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FENELLA
F enella sat on the edge of the bed in her new room, the white box containing her clan phone resting on her lap. After the tour of the village, she'd been escorted to a two-bedroom house that looked very much like the ones Ingrid had shown them earlier. The other occupant was a clan member who worked in the city, and she wouldn't be returning until much later.
Fenella hoped that Ingrid had remembered to notify the woman so she wouldn't be surprised to find a stranger in her house. What was her name? Shirley something? Or was it Shira?
She should have written it down. Now, she would have to call the woman darling and dear until she volunteered her name.
The house was absurdly nice—all clean lines and tasteful furnishings that probably cost more than Fenella had won gambling in the last decade. Even the sheets on the bed felt expensive, with a thread count that mocked every dingy hostel and fleabag motel she'd stayed in over the years.
This level of luxury made her uneasy. Nice things came with strings attached, and she'd learned long ago that the higher the quality of the accommodation, the steeper the eventual price.
Yet everyone here acted like this was normal. Just another day in their hidden paradise.
Fenella flipped open the box and removed the sleek phone, turning it over in her hands. It looked like the latest iPhone model but wasn't. It was a clan satellite phone that worked from anywhere and everywhere in the world and had the best security. Jasmine had shown her the list of contacts that had been pre-loaded, the map of the village that was tucked in the notes, and all the different applications that were similar to what was available on other phones but not quite the same. All the social apps were there, but they were funneled through security filters or something like that. Jasmine didn't know how to explain it, and even if she had, it would have flown right over Fenella's head. She barely knew how to use a computer and had never owned one.
She scrolled for Din's name and number among the contacts. Jasmine had found it for her and added a ridiculous heart emoji beside it so Fenella would have an easier time finding it.
Naturally, she'd immediately deleted the stupid heart .
Nevertheless, she needed to call him so he would stop bothering Jasmine every time he wanted to talk to her.
The phone rang only three times before he answered, but each ring stretched her nerves.
"Fenella?" Din's voice—deep and rich with that Scottish burr of his—transported her back to smoky pubs and rain-slicked streets. "You got your own phone now?"
"Yeah. It was waiting for me in the village." She winced at how stilted she sounded. "That's where I am now. I got a room in Shirley's or Shira's house or whatever. I don't remember what Ingrid said her name was. She's not here right now."
"I'm so glad you called." The warmth in his voice loosened something tight in her chest. "Are you settling in alright?"
Fenella leaned back against the headboard, kicking off her shoes and drawing her legs up onto the bed. "I suppose. Everything is so posh. It's like living in a luxury hotel, just without the obnoxious drunk tourists."
Din chuckled. "After a while, you'll miss the drunks. It gets pretty boring in the village. All those chirping birds and clean air are just too much."
Was he mocking her?
"You've been here before?" she asked.
"A few times," he confirmed. "Weddings, mostly. Some clan-wide celebrations that everyone was invited to, and I couldn't wiggle out of with a good excuse."
Fenella tried to picture Din at a wedding—brooding in the corner somewhere and being antisocial. The man she vaguely remembered from the pub fifty years ago had been quiet, serious, and lurked in the shadows.
Not really the friendly sort he sounded like on the phone.
"What's Scotland like these days?" she asked, changing the subject. "Still wet and miserable?"
"Gloriously so," he replied with a smile in his voice. "Though I've got a decent flat in Edinburgh now, not too far from the university. Bit different from the old days."
"The university? What do you do there? Are you studying something?"
"I teach archaeology."
That caught her by surprise. "Get out of here. Archaeology? I didn't peg you for a scholar."
"What did you peg me for, then?" There was an edge of amusement in his question.
Fenella considered it. "I don't know. Something more technical, perhaps? Security work, computers, or engineering."
"When you've got endless time, you can try out all kinds of things. Archeology has been my latest obsession. I fell into it by accident—I started taking night classes to pass the time and found I had a knack for it. There's something satisfying about piecing together the past." He paused. "Plus, teaching in the university has other benefits. Lots of pretty lasses who fancy a young-looking professor."
Fenella laughed. "Naughty, naughty, Din. You shouldn't play with your students."
"Never from my department. But others, well…"
Maybe that's how he'd become more friendly and confident.
"Speaking of archeology, there's this exhibition in the glass pavilion here—artifacts and such. Somebody's personal collection. Quite impressive, actually."
"Aye, I've seen it. Kalugal rotates the displays regularly. He's got a storage facility in the underground with countless items that he's collected over the years."
Fenella sat up straighter. "Is that the bloke who owns the plane that got us to California?"
"That's him."
"I didn't know that there was so much money in archeology."
Din chuckled. "There isn't unless you steal and sell artifacts. Kalugal steals them, but he never sells them. He's a collector. He makes his money from all kinds of shady businesses."
An idea occurred to her. "You should talk to him. If he has a lot of money to throw around, you could interest him in a dig, and he could finance it."
There was a pause long enough that Fenella wondered if the connection had dropped .
"I've never considered it," Din said finally. "I don't know Kalugal well, and he's... well, he's a former Doomer. Makes me uneasy, to be honest."
Fenella felt her brows shoot upward. "A Doomer? Here in the village?" Her hand instinctively went to her throat, the memory of Durhad still inducing a flare of panic. "I thought they were the clan's enemy."
"They are," Din said. "But Kalugal's different. He collected others like him, and they escaped from the Brotherhood. It was a long time ago, and he's been living a semi-legit life."
"What is he doing here, though? Why was he accepted?" Fenella couldn't keep the incredulity from her voice. "I understand maybe not going after him because he wasn't harming anyone. But this is too much."
"There's more to the story, and I don't want to get into details, but the bottom line is that none of Kalugal's men ever believed in Navuh's hateful ideology, which was why they escaped. They are immortal, they have military training, and they are bound by an unbreakable treaty to defend the village. The alliance makes us stronger."
Fenella digested this information. The world wasn't black and white, she knew that, but after what she'd been through, it was difficult to think about anyone and anything connected to the Brotherhood as not pure evil.
"I met a Doomer," she said. "He wasn't the redemption-worthy type. "
"I know," Din said quietly. "I'm so sorry about what you've been through."
Fenella swallowed against the sudden tightness in her throat. "Yeah, well. I survived."
"You always do," Din said. "It's one of the things I admire about you."
Something in his tone made her uncomfortable—the weight of his regard, the implication that he had spent decades thinking about her, forming an image of who she was based on a handful of interactions.
"You don't know me, Din," she said. "You didn't know me then, and you know me even less now. I'm not the same girl you remember from that pub."
"I know that," he said, his voice steady. "I'm excited to get to know you as you are now."
She rolled her eyes. "Why carry a torch for fifty bloody years based on what—a few smiles across a bar?"
In fact, she couldn't remember if she'd ever smiled at him, or he at her.
There was a long pause before Din responded. "It wasn't just a few smiles, Fenella. You were full of life in a way that made everything else seem dull by comparison. But you're right—I don't truly know you. That's why I'm flying over. To find out if the woman you've become might be interested in the man I am now."
"Look," she said finally, softening her tone. "I think we should start afresh. No expectations based on the past. Just two people getting to know each other now."
"That's all I'm asking for," Din said. "A chance."
"Yeah, I get that." She tried to sound just the right amount of excited but mostly indifferent. "So, Professor Din, tell me about this animosity between you and Max. Was it really because of me?"
Din's laugh was short and without humor. "No, it was because of him and the insensitive, selfish ass he was."
"I take it you're still not fans of each other?"
"We made our peace after he called me with the good news," Din said. "But there was a time when I couldn't stand the sight of him."
"Because of me?" Fenella prompted.
"Because he was supposed to be my friend, but he pursued you, knowing how I felt about you. You didn't know, so it wasn't your fault, but he did, and he didn't care that he was crushing me."
"He left me the moment he realized how you felt, and then I became sick, and after that, I started noticing strange things about myself that I couldn't explain. The truth is that you both screwed me over with your stupid games."
"I'm sorry."
"Oh well, so is he. But this girl is the one who suffered."
He sighed. "I promise to make it up to you."
"You can't. There is no fixing everything that went wrong with my life, the family I had to leave behind, the nomadic life I had to live. While you and Max were indulging in your stupid grudge."
She didn't know why she was getting so angry all of a sudden. Up until Max had told her what had happened to her, she hadn't known who to blame for her transformation, and after, she didn't really have time to process it and get angry at the two idiots who'd ruined her life but had also given her immortality, so she couldn't be entirely pissed at them.
"Fifty years is nothing for an immortal," Din said. "I realize that it hasn't been easy for you, but you can live like a queen from now on."
"It was a lifetime to me," Fenella countered. "I've lived a dozen different lives since then. Been a dozen different people."
"And who are you now?" Din asked.
Fenella hesitated. "I'm still figuring that out. But I know who I don't want to be—a pawn in a stupid testosterone contest between you and Max."
"That's fair," Din conceded. "And for what it's worth, Max and I are okay with each other now. No more contests. He told me that he found his one and only."
"Yeah. That takes the fun out of the whole feud between you."
"What is she like?"
Fenella laughed. "Why? Do you want to fight over Kyra now?"
"Can you stop doing that? I'm just curious about the female who's caught Max in her net. He's such a butterfly."
"Kyra is amazing. A strong woman. A warrior. He doesn't deserve her, but neither do you."
"Ouch."
"Yeah." She let out a breath. "Sorry about snapping at you. I don't know why I'm so irritable. Let's talk about archeology. It's safer."
"I love it," Din said, warming to the subject. "There's nothing quite like holding something in your hands that hasn't been touched by anyone else in thousands of years. Makes you feel connected to the sweep of history."
"I never thought about it that way," Fenella admitted. "I've spent so much time running from the past, I never considered digging it up on purpose."
"Perhaps it's time to stop running," Din suggested.
The comment hit closer to home than she liked. "Maybe," she allowed. "This place seems secure enough, if a bit boring for my taste. It's like a retirement community, you know? Do they have bingo night here?"
He laughed. "Is it really that bad? Was someone mean to you?"
"No. They are all disgustingly nice. It's just a big adjustment. Going from complete freedom to this gilded cage."
"Complete freedom," Din repeated. "Is that really what you had out there, Fenella? Living hand to mouth, always looking over your shoulder, never putting down roots?"
The question stung because it contained more truth than she wanted to admit. "Freedom is priceless, and I survived."
"Surviving isn't the same as living," Din said.
"God, you sound like one of those inspirational posters," Fenella groaned. "Next, you'll be telling me to 'live, laugh, love.'"
Din chuckled. "I wouldn't dare."
"When do you arrive?" she asked, changing the subject.
"Saturday evening your time."
"Another delay?"
He sighed. "Please don't start with the bad omen nonsense."
"Fine. Maybe we can get a drink at that hobbit bar Ingrid showed us."
"I'd like that," Din said.
An awkward silence fell between them, both seemingly unsure how to end the conversation.
"Well," Fenella said finally, "I should go. Jasmine mentioned dinner at Ell-rom's sister's, and I'm starving."
"Of course," Din said. "Thanks for the call."
"Don't make a big thing of it," she said, discomfort rising at the emotion in his voice. "It's just a phone call."
"Even so. I'll see you Saturday."
"Saturday," she confirmed and ended the call before anything else uncomfortably sincere could be said.
Fenella set the phone aside and fell back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. Talking to Din had been easier than she'd expected but also more disquieting. There was an intensity to his interest in her that both flattered and alarmed her. Fifty years was a long time to carry a torch for someone you barely knew.
When her phone rang, she was sure it was Din calling her back, but it was Jasmine.
"We're at your front door. Are you coming?"
"Yes. Give me a minute." She ended the call and pushed herself off the bed.
On her way out, Fenella caught her reflection in the entry mirror and groaned. Her hair was mussed, and a faint flush still colored her cheeks from the phone call.
"Oh, stop it, you fool." She brushed her hair with her fingers. "He's not worth getting excited over."
Table of Contents
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- Page 42 (Reading here)
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