Chapter 20

Allie felt a strong tremor of nerves as she followed Gregg down the long corridor.

“Go on, red, my office is just across from Nae’s. I’ll join you shortly.”

She wandered into the masculine study. It reminded her of an old castle library, with its massive shelves of books and stone walls draped with the tartan of his ancestral clan. The room was comfortable and inviting, despite the arsenal of weapons on display at every interval. A cheery fire burned in the fireplace behind a giant oak desk, and a billiard table with a fully stocked bar encompassed the rear of the room. It was the ultimate man cave for an old Scots.

As she waited, Allie’s nerves spiraled into irrational anger, her pulse raced, and her power churned. The nausea threatened to overwhelm her as her body responded with a fight or flight response—and she was definitely in fight mode.

“Okay, let’s get started!” Gregg burst into the room with a flurry of activity.

“Stop,” she snarled.

“Whoa, Allie.” He took several hasty steps back and dropped to the floor, swearing softly in Gaelic. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he said in his soft Scottish burr. “It never occurred to me to warn you. You’ve no need to fear me.”

“I’m not afraid.” She sneered, not entirely sure why she was treating him with such disrespect.

“Aye, your eyes are crackling like green fire.” He sounded amused. “You’re a powerful girl, making rapid progress. I can see that now. I wouldn’t have thought it possible for you to react so strongly to me so soon. Your instincts are responding to the oppressive weight of my lifeline, and it is only natural you feel threatened by my experience.”

She felt a rush of shame for her behavior. She was standing over him, every muscle in her body tensed as if some unseen force threatened her very existence, but she was only reminded of a lion cub roaring at its father to prove it was fierce.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I will not hold it against you.” He winked.

“So, how freakin’ old are you?”

“Really freakin’ old.” He laughed. “I would like to show you a bit of my story, if I may?”

She nodded warily, still trying to suppress the anger boiling just under the surface.

“I’m really not sure when I was born, but I believe it must have been sometime around one-hundred-fifty BC.”

“As in before Christ?”

“Aye, I met the man named Jesus; he was brilliant and recognized me the instant he laid eyes on me. It was not long before his death. He was preaching his famous Sermon on the Mount, and I was one of many in the crowd. As he passed, he said, ‘You are one of my father’s most precious creations. Never forget your purpose for the extraordinary life you have been given.’

“Those words have always stayed with me,” he said with a faint smile at the long distant memory. “Jesus himself gave me the strength to believe we have a greater purpose. We are beloved by God, and our gifts, strength, and everything we have are because of his benevolence.”

“You actually knew Jesus?”

“Aye, I witnessed his crucifixion. Something I’ll never forget as long as I live. I was in the crowd when he carried his cross down the Via Delarosa. The sorrow and fear among those who loved him was palpable. The crowd taunted him, and the soldiers beat him as he struggled to carry his cross, but his burden had nothing to do with the weight of the cross. It was a burden I felt heavy on my own heart, so I stepped from the crowd when he stumbled and carried the burden for him. He was suffering from more than physical wounds, but he still had the grace to thank me. I stayed with him through his ordeal, and the moment he died, it felt like nothing would ever be the same. I’ve seen some amazing things, but I have never known anyone quite like Jesus of Nazareth.”

“You carried the cross for Jesus Christ? That’s kinda ironic.”

“Allie, we of all people have cause to believe in God. It’s impossible to live a miracle every day of our lives and believe we are here by mere chance. We have a purpose,” he said passionately.

“Two thousand years old? I can’t even imagine. You’re not really Scottish then, are you? You’d be a Celt or a Pict?”

“Celt, although much of my early life was spent among the Romans. Eventually, I returned to my Celtic roots of my homeland. I’m not nearly as gifted at sharing my experiences as my lovely wife, but I’ll do my best. Close your eyes, try to relax, and as I talk, you might drift into my memories.”

She nodded as he continued.

“I was born in an age of war, and my skills are well suited for battle. Subtle weapons I could use without detection, allowing a slight manipulation of the clouds to offer favorable conditions for my troops and a hindrance to the enemy. I can even generate a magnetic force into my sword, but it’s also a handy tool when faced with one of our own. Unfortunately, it’s a gift many have coveted, and I have fought often to protect it.

“My life changed dramatically one day when I was out with my scouts. We stumbled upon a small camp of slavers, and I sensed a young Immortal in their midst. When I ventured close, I saw him weak and starving. I couldn’t leave him.” Gregg’s voice grew faint as Allie’s mind whirled with fuzzy images.

“We can take these slavers, Greggory,” his second in command argued.

“All right, but the lad comes with us.”

Gregg moved silently. Allie marveled at the use of his gift. The clouds followed him, keeping him well hidden among the shadows. As he drew closer to the camp, he saw the two soldiers closing in a moment too late when the first arrow was loosed. Allie felt a distant stab of pain, like an echo.

He’d taken an arrow before, but this one burned like fire—a magnetized arrow. The second and third lodestone bolts caught him sooner than he anticipated. There were far more soldiers here than he realized. The boy was bait, and he’d fallen for their trap.

“On your feet, Immortal!” The soldier removed the arrows none too gently, and Gregg found himself restrained with shackles made of strong magnetite. He would heal, but it would be slow.

“What are you called, lad?” Gregg asked the boy.

“Leik. You needn’t have bothered.”

“You’re a Northman?”

“Yes.”

“It seems we are both very far from home. They murder your parents?”

“Yes.”

“I’m deeply sorry for your loss, but we’ll get out of this,” he promised, though he wasn’t sure how.

“Do not worry about me.” The boy scowled. “I will take care of myself.”

Gregg shook his head with a grimace; he felt like he was looking at himself about a hundred years ago.

“I’ll not leave without you, but if you manage to get free on your own, you best be taking me with you,” he said. His smile vanished when something happened he hadn’t anticipated. Somehow, he’d bonded this child as his brother, and there was no undoing it.

The world swirled in a black cloud until Allie found herself watching as a spectator. Gregg and Leik were taken to serve the house of Octavian—Master of the Coalition, a secret title he inherited from his uncle, Julius Caesar, upon his death. She watched as they were beaten and used for their gifts—their brotherly bond exploited to gain their cooperation for countless years.

When the parade of horrific visions finally stopped, Allie’s mind reeled. Gregg now sat confined to a dark cell. Leik was a grown man with a dark and dangerous countenance.

“I will not be gone long, brother,” he vowed. “My gift will lead me to Marc Antony. He is hiding somewhere in Egypt, and when I close in, he will have no choice but to return with me.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll listen when I tell you not to return?”

“Of course not. When have I ever listened to you?” Leik’s grin was a familiar one.

Allie shivered as the memories that were not hers grew dim.

“How long were you slaves?” she asked hoarsely when she returned to herself.

“Far too long.” Gregg sighed. “I waited patiently for the opportunity to escape with my young brother, but Rome was a powerful nation, built on the backs of the slaves they conquered. It took many years to accomplish our escape.”

“You’ve seen so much history,” Allie said in awe.

“Aye, but I chose to share this experience with you to illustrate how we develop powerful family bonds that are more deeply rooted than simple genetics—and how the Coalition can use those bonds against us. Leik—called Liam now—is as much my brother as if we shared blood. In time, you’ll forge similar bonds, but it will not diminish your relationships with your mortal family. But there will come a time when they’ll no longer be with you,” he said sadly. “I hope someday you can think of Naeemah and I not as parents, but maybe as an overly protective aunt and uncle?”

“Of course,” she murmured. She didn’t like to think about how utterly alone she would be when her mortal family passed.

“Now, on to today’s lesson. We’re going to get you armed so you can protect yourself and I can rest easier.”

“Weapons?”

“Buck up, red.” He towed her into his private gymnasium. The room was spacious with blue padded mats covering the floors. The high stone walls were adorned with swords, shields, and other frightening artifacts she couldn’t identify.

He led her to a glass case where several items were on display.

“Really?” She met his amused gaze when he handed her a harmless pen. “It’s heavy.”

“Push the cap down and twist counterclockwise. Now, you have a weighted dagger, perfect for throwing. Keep that on you at all times.”

Allie twisted and sheathed the blade. “What’s next?” She tucked the pen in her back pocket.

“This is something special I made just for you.” He presented a beautiful, coiled bracelet.

“Now you’re talking, big guy.” She admired the large pewter beads and reached to snake the coil around her wrist. “How is it a weapon?”

“This clever little thing functions like a Boleadora throwing weapon. I knew you would need something easy to use that would offer a great deal of protection. If you ever have need of it, simply grab the last bead and pull.” He demonstrated and the bracelet relaxed into a long chain of weighted beads.

“Flick the switch here and a potent tranquilizer will engage, triggering a chemical reaction to give the serum one hell of a magnetic kick. Whomever you face, mortal or Immortal, this will drop them where they stand. Just aim for an appendage, twirl the chain like a lasso, and release. If your aim is decent, the weights will tighten and sharp hooks will embed into the skin, releasing the poison. Your attacker will be out of commission in seconds.”

“Couldn’t I just get a Taser?”

“No,” was his immediate and curt response. “This one will require some training time, but I want you to keep it in those fancy boots the girls gave you.”

The slim metal cylinder was heavy and about six inches in length.

“Press the large button at the center just under your thumb,” he instructed, wrapping his arms around her to demonstrate. With a slight jerk, the cylinder extended into a five-foot quarterstaff.

“Should you need something more deadly, press the button again to extend the blades. I know this is all very foreign to you, but it will only be a matter of time before you’re an old pro. For now, I’m much happier knowing you’re armed.”

Gregg walked her through some basic self-defense exercises, utilizing her new weapons, and she left their session feeling more confident in her ability to defend herself. But Allie wasn’t sure she would ever be comfortable with the idea of hurting anyone.