It infuriated Seth that such was necessary.
Darnell glanced at him over the laptop. “It’s only until we defeat Gershom. Don’t let it upset you.”
Seth shook his head. “I think Chris is right.” Chris was the head of the East Coast division of the human network that aided Immortal Guardians.
“About what?”
“You’ve been spending too much time around David and me. Our paranormal whozeewhatzit as he calls it is beginning to wear off on you.”
Darnell laughed and leaned back in his chair. “Anything I can help you with?”
“I need a blank piece of paper and a pencil.”
Rising, Darnell strolled past Seth to Ami’s smaller desk. “Sounds like Chris’s whozeewhatzit is starting to wear off on you.”
Seth chuckled. Though Chris was a technological wizard, the man carried a pencil and small tablet around with him and preferred to jot things down the old-fashioned way when ideas came to him. “Maybe so.”
The overhead light glinted on Darnell’s shaved brown head as he bent and opened a drawer. Stacks of paper resided therein. “How much do you need?”
“Just one sheet.”
After retrieving a sheet, Darnell closed the drawer and drew a regular pencil out of the can of colored pencils on top of the desk.
Footsteps approached in the hallway.
Sheldon, Richart’s young Second, poked his head in. “Hey, Darnell? Where did Roland come down on letting Michael play with weapons? Was he for it or against it?”
Sighing, Darnell handed the paper and pencil to Seth, then headed for the doorway. “Are they sharp or dull?”
“Dull,” Sheldon answered, stepping back to let Darnell pass. “Or dull-ish.” Both men left Seth’s sight. “I mean, it’ll still hurt if he pokes himself in the eye, but the blade won’t cut him.”
Seth shook his head and let their voices fall away as he set the piece of paper on the desk. Leaning down, he sketched the woman from his dream at preternatural speeds. It was a good likeness, resembling her almost as well as a black-and-white photograph would.
He studied her. She was pretty. Not in a glamorous, perfectly coiffed, expertly made-up, Hollywood kind of way, but in a fresh-faced, girl-next-door kind of way. Again he felt that odd sense of familiarity, as if he had seen her before outside of the dream. But he couldn’t recall when or where.
Nor could he erase her from his thoughts.
Setting the pencil down, he teleported to UNC Chapel Hill.
Two beeps sounded simultaneously. Ethan and Heather were still battling the vampires Seth had heard over the line when he’d called them a couple of minutes earlier.
Heather was kicking ass. Since Aidan—a nearly three-thousand-year-old immortal who could heal with his hands—had transformed her, she was significantly stronger and faster than Ethan.
Undaunted, Ethan divided his time between kicking a little vampire ass of his own and ogling his wife as she had accused.
Seth folded the drawing, tucked it inside his coat, and drew his katana. A quick perusal of the vampires’ features assured him that none were Gershom’s immortals. Not really necessary. Ethan’s memory recall was incredible, exceeding even Seth’s. He would’ve memorized every pixel of every photo of the missing gifted ones turned immortals and would’ve recognized any immediately.
Two vamps charged toward Seth, their faces twisted in snarls, their glowing eyes devoid of sanity. Their thoughts revealed the same. These young men had been transformed three years ago, long enough for the virus that infected them to eat away at their healthy young brains and decimate their impulse control and honor. Both had been good men before their transformations. It was a damned shame they were monsters now. Neither would have wanted that.
Seth swung his katana with sweet precision, liberating one vampire’s head and opening arteries on the other.
Heather and Ethan struck down the last three.
Bending, Seth cleaned his blade with the shirt of one of the fallen vampires.
He heard Heather laugh and straightened.
She stared at her husband as she cleaned her own blade. “You are so freaking weird.”
He glanced at Ethan, whose eyes glowed amber with desire as he smiled unrepentantly. “I can’t help it. Watching you kick ass turns me on.”
She shook her head. “I’ve heard Étienne tell Krysta the same thing.”
Seth sheathed his sword. “Because immortal males all adore strong women.”
“Exactly.” Ethan sheathed his own weapons and turned to Seth. “So what can I do for you?”
Seth withdrew the drawing and held it out to him. “Do you know this woman?”
Ethan wiped his hands on his shirt, then took it and gave it a look. “I don’t know her, but I’ve seen her.”
“When and where?”
“Two years ago. May twelfth. She was in the line next to the one I was in at the Whole Foods on Franklin Street in Chapel Hill.”
“Did you catch her name?”
“No. She was alone and the cashier just called her ma’am. Why?”
“I’m trying to locate her.”
Heather joined them and studied the picture thoughtfully. “I don’t know her either. But Chris Reordon may be able to help you. His contacts can use facial recognition software to search their databases and maybe find out who she is.”
“Excellent idea. Thank you.”
She shifted, reluctance entering her expression. “Do you want me to ask my dad to see what he can dig up on her?” Heather’s father was a four-star general in the army and had risked his life more than once to help them in the past.
Seth drew out his cell phone and dialed Chris Reordon’s number. “I’ll see what Chris can come up with first, thank you.”
She smiled with relief. “Okay.”
“Reordon,” Chris answered absently.
“It’s Seth. I need a moment of your time.”
“Sure. I’m in my office. Let me turn off the alarm.” A slight pause ensued. “Okay. You’re good.”
Seth pocketed his phone and teleported to Chris Reordon’s office at network headquarters.
2
In the original manuscript, this scene took place right after Chris showed Zach and David the video of Seth dancing with Leah.
Sean Linz felt his Second’s stare boring into him as he wolfed down the lasagna she’d prepared for them.
“So what’s up?” Nicole asked before she stuffed another forkful into her mouth. The fact that her appetite rivaled his own never ceased to delight him. He’d had too many dates with women who only picked at their food because others had made them feel self-conscious either about their weight or about eating what some might consider an indelicate amount in public.
Both were utter bullshit.
Nicole, however, ate as much as he did. She had to. She needed the extra calories for the hours she spent training with the other Seconds and with him, though it had taken him a long time to feel comfortable sparring with her. He hadn’t known how much speed or force he could safely use without hurting her and had panicked every time he’d knocked her down until she’d started to knock him on his ass.
“What do you mean?” he countered.