Gart firmly wrapped his fingers around the grip of his broadsword, making sure his palm met the leather. The length of his chosen weapon was more than the usual forty-five inches given his large size.

The door opened at the far end of the gym. Mrs. Gast walked in before Jean. Both were similarly dressed as him, wearing leggings, athletic shoes and compression shirts. Jean was taller and not quite as heavy as her companion. With an attempt at nonchalance he didn’t remotely feel, he noted how the younger woman’s garments made every splendid curve stand out. There was something to be said for women’s modern workout clothing.

The older woman walked to a rack where her weapon of choice, a crossbow, hung carefully. Its use was taught by him long before she ever became a claviger.

When she’d shown an interest, he hadn’t hesitated in giving Mrs. Gast instruction. Now, she was very good with that form of either defense or offense. Crossbows were good to use when one faced any human criminal who needed to be silently dispatched.

Both women chatted amicably. He tried not to pay attention to their friendly banter, choosing to remain aloof while surreptitiously gauging Jean’s response to the gym and its accoutrement.

Mrs. Gast picked up her weapon. She lowered the front end of it to the ground, put her foot into the foothold and loaded the bolt. She then raised the crossbow.

Without much time spent aiming, she fired at a target set up on the other side of the gym. Jean responded with a congratulatory hoot.

Mrs. Gast, as usual, hit the target so close to dead center that a mere quarter of an inch, one way or the other, made no difference. He’d trained both her and Ben with that weapon because they’d become enamored with its accuracy as well as its silence. While it was quite true that it couldn’t take out any rogue who might appear in their part of the country, it could certainly stop any human criminal who hunted immortals out of sheer hatred of the lifestyle.

Now—whether by coincidence or by home office’s consideration over her already having been instructed on the device—Anna Gast was his new claviger. She and Ben could easily defend themselves or other humans on the premises.

There were parts of the world where crossbows were illegal, but any such laws in the UK were waived if his claviger, or her husband, was protecting a government-sanctioned immortal.

There were other perks to being a claviger. Mrs. Gast would have a great deal more information to process, most of which would be highly classified.

He only hoped and prayed that the woman, and her husband, would never have to learn the downside. Clavigers could and had been killed. They were hunted by rogues, just to get even with law-abiding immortals.

As for Jean, a crossbow might later become part of her personal arsenal. As an immortal working in a law enforcement capacity for the government, she could carry anything she wanted. However, since most of the individuals she’d be sent to apprehend would be rogues, she’d first be trained with something that could stop their onslaught. A swift beheading was the usual course of action.

For that task, a broadsword fit the bill. Once he knew what Jean’s strengths and weaknesses were, he’d have a sword crafted particularly to accommodate them.

Today, and until she was proficient, she’d train with what was available. He had many blades with which he constantly trained so as not to lose the ability to be proficient, at a moment’s notice. There were swords hanging near or above many of the fireplaces upstairs if the need arose. He preferred the weapon now in his right hand—a trusty English broadsword.

He waited until the women finished their conversation, and Mrs. Gast was done instructing Jean over the basics of her crossbow. When their chat lulled, he took the opportunity to gain Jean’s attention, and tactfully ordered the older woman away.

Jean’s gushing over her friend’s capabilities bordered on frivolous revelry. There was no time for that now. Not anymore. Not after some immortal trespassed on his property, without so much as a by your leave.

He sensed Jean’s hesitation, but not over the use of weapons. Indeed, she seemed fascinated by the crossbow and had insinuated as much to Mrs. Gast.

No, her concerns had to do with disappointing him. She feared she’d be sent away if found wanting.

Jean walked toward him. As he suspected, dread was etched all over her lovely face.

“We need to train alone. At least for a while,” he told her.

Jean glanced at the door through which her friend had just left.

“First, I want you to tell me everything you’ve been told about rogues. Don’t leave out any detail. I need to know if you’re information is based on fact or fiction.”

She swallowed hard. “I was told that there were essentially two groups.”

“Go on.”

“Though they’re living outside the parameters of the law, the first group has no intention of causing trouble. They just want to be left alone.”

“They can be dangerous if cornered. Especially if they’re discovered and hunted for failure to register. They know they’ll be imprisoned and for a very long time.”

“Yes. And then…there are the others.”

“Define,” he curtly instructed.

“The second group operates outside any and every law. They never register. They think immortality gives them the right to do whatever they want. They steal, kill…they’re the ones that mortals read about in the newspapers.”

“Quite so. Of them, the more beneficent will take that pretty head of yours rather than submit to the law. The less charitable…they’ll take their time killing you, just because you had the unmitigated gall to enforce laws over your own kind. They see you and me as traitors who bow to authority when there is no authority they recognize. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“They’ve started conflicts in countries, chaos in communities, and have committed untold, horrific damage. All because they can. Lawful immortals working for each of their country’s respective agencies stand between rogues and the rest of the world. That’s why they’ll kill us.”

“Understood, sir.”

“There’s a sword on that table over there. Pick it up. Let me see how you handle it. Tell me how it feels in your hand.”

She drew herself up and seemed to take the situation quite a bit more seriously than she had when she’d first entered the gym.

She grasped the sword’s handle, but with her left hand. She held it loosely hanging in her palm, the way he wouldn’t hold any kitchen knife. He waited to see what she’d do with it. When she continued staring at it, he issued verbal instruction.

“You want to hold it in your left hand?” he asked.

“Is there anything wrong with that?”

“No. Most immortals, like many people in the population, are right-handed. You could have an advantage in that criminal immortals tend to train against other right-handers.”

“I like advantages.”

“First, let’s work on how you hold that sword. We’ll then move on to a few maneuvers that will include stance as well as swing. If you have a question, ask. Each morning, we’ll build on the previous day’s work. I expect you to pay attention. When home office deems you’ve been sufficiently trained…as determined by my reports…they’ll release your photo to the press. On that day, you’ll be on a short list for any rogue wanting to take out their anger on a newbie.”

“I don’t think home office should release our photos. It doesn’t seem fair. Especially when they wouldn’t even send Jon Merdwyn’s image to you.”

“I agree. For now, these are the rules.”

“Maybe that’s why some immortals won’t register.”

“It’s precisely why! Buy that’s the law, we all know it. That’s the way things are. For the privilege of never growing older, never knowing disease, being paid obscene amounts of money to protect the normal population from thousands of rogues, we pledge our lives.” He lifted his free arm, and gestured toward it with his sword. “If I take my arm off right now, as long as I bandage it back against the open stub-wound, it’ll regrow. It’ll heal and won’t even take long to do it.”

She backed away from him; shocked by his words.

“That’s a gift many people would beg to have. Now, you have that ability. So, decide right now what you want, Jean! Train and work with humanity, or walk out the door and let someone like me hunt you down one day. Even rogues will kill another rogue to take control of a territory. Or even if the moon is in conjunction with Mars. They don’t give a damn. The choice is between living with chaos…or supporting the law. Make up your mind. I won’t train someone who’ll later be a danger to others. That’s not going on my conscience. In fact, if anyone I ever train goes rogue, I’ll personally take their head.”

She gasped. “I…I…was only making conversa—”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion. No one in the immortal world wants it. Now, train or not?”

He inwardly flinched when the harsh sound of his voice rang off the walls, but he had to get her attention. After the previous day’s events, he’d have thought she’d come to the gym prepared to work instead of questioning the law.

Jean just stood there, staring at him as though he’d struck her.

It took everything he had not to ask forgiveness. Especially since rules concerning Jon Merdwyn’s existence had been altered, waived, or completely abandoned. He felt like a total hypocrite given his conversation over the rules with David Harrington. Still, he had to reinforce the norm. He didn’t have the power to make things fair. Nobody did.

The appearance of Jon Merdwyn changed everything. Whoever that man was, Gart was consumed with suspicion. He didn’t want to take out his angst on Jean, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

No matter what happened, no matter who Merdwyn was or how he got such omnipotent power, he must give Jean the best training anyone could possibly have. He’d give her the best chance at living the immortal existence Fate delivered.

Still staring at him with wounded sorrow in her eyes, he knew he couldn’t flinch. He mustn’t show remorse. There must be no sign of anything approaching softness. She mustn’t ever question the law or its reasoning. Up to now, he’d been overly indulgent. No more.

No rogue would ever show her mercy. He’d have to harden her to that fact.

Almost expecting her to run crying to Mrs. Gast or Ben for comfort, she did something far more courageous. She lifted the tip of her sword toward him. Fierce anger filtered over her exquisite features, and raw determination shimmered in the depths of her bright blue eyes.

“Teach me!” she demanded.

Knowing he’d mentally and emotionally pushed her where she needed to be, while ardently regretting the red anger he’d employed to get her there, Gart took a deep breath.

“Let us begin,” he told her.

* * *

Days turned into weeks.

Each morning Jean did her best to not only please a man whose strength and sense of honor inspired many, but she took pains to make each movement count, in exacting detail. She knew what was at stake. This was her life now.

In what little free time she now had, she wandered the estate under the watchful eyes of employees and her claviger. Yet, she still didn’t feel imprisoned.

Observing the news on the television each night, she realized that there were those on this planet who truly were trapped in hellish locations; places whose names she’d never heard of. Like most people, she’d spent the mortal part of her time in this world trying not to get weighed down by political events over which she had no control.

She saw things differently now. She had to pay attention to uprisings and upheaval. Sooner or later, home office might put her right in the middle of some world shattering event.

There was only one thing she missed. That was the closeness she and Gart shared at first.

Resolute in his will to teach her what she must know to survive, the man had taken on an entirely new personality. This extended to every facet of life on the estate.

They no longer played music and danced in the evening hours. There were no impromptu lunches on the back patio overlooking the gardens. She had little time for hobbies, which left less time for her and Anna. Her guarded walks were short indeed.

She understood all the reasons for the changes. She blamed the gloomier atmosphere on Jon Merdwyn’s impromptu appearance.

Still, she persevered.

After training in the gym one morning, and then listening to her assigned foreign language tapes until she could stand no more, Jean went to the kitchen, poured herself a mug of coffee, and headed into the garden for a quick break.

As usual, landscape employees acknowledged her presence but weren’t as anxious to speak as they once were. Master Bloodnight probably made it clear that her position as a trainee was firmly fixed. He’d likely told them not to speak to anyone about her presence or her immortality. Laws being what they were, and Gart’s authority in the community being what it was, they’d comply readily.

If anyone took issue with ending her studies early, they said nothing.

Shrugging off the consequences, she wandered a bit farther than normal.

She opened the gate to the paddock where Gart’s lovely horses grazed peacefully. They lifted their heads simultaneously, walking closer in hopes of a treat.

“Sorry, my loves,” she crooned, “I walked out of the kitchen without any apples. I’ll make up for it another day.”

Still dawdling near, she petted each mount in turn. She now knew all their names. The responded kindly to the sound of her voice, even if she’d neglected their delicacies.

All the creatures Gart rescued were her friends now. Because they accepted her unconditionally, she lingered longer than normal. The afternoon waned. Oddly, no one came to fetch her back to whatever training Anna scheduled. Either Anna and Gart were engrossed in other matters, or they assumed someone on the staff was watching her.

The garden staff would report her every move, assuming they were paying attention.

Sounds of lawn equipment reached her ears.

She concluded that someone had dropped the ball, and wasn’t watching her as they were supposed to. Perhaps assignments had gotten confused. Still, anyone looking out a northern window would see her if she took one step more, away from the castle. Did she dare? Was it worth the long-winded lecture she’d surely receive?

Wind from the hills blew softly toward her. The horses suddenly lifted their heads, and turned to face the largest of the nearby peaks.

“Orion…Mars? What’s wrong, lads?”

The big draft horses flicked their ears in response, but didn’t alter their gazes. All eight of the horses near her froze, just like statues.

An eerie sensation came over her. It was like someone had just walked over her grave. She was being watched, but it felt far different than previous scrutiny from staff.

The woods on the hillside were thick indeed, but something there—some infinitesimal glimmer—caught her attention within the greenery. It was like a firefly hovering deep within the trees, glowing faintly green but larger than she’d have thought possible. Indeed, she’d never seen a firefly on the property at all.

She stepped forward.

Fireflies traveled in groups. This was only one light, and it hovered in place. Then, it began to slowly move back and forth, as if someone was swinging it.

Who’s up there? Why are they trying to get my attention?

She glanced back toward Bloodnight Hall. It loomed in the coming twilight. Its presence suddenly became overpowering. The need to get away grew with every passing moment. Like a fish being tempted with bait, she couldn’t withstand the call of the hills.

The lure of the cool, green woods couldn’t be denied. Somehow, it felt right to go there. There was no one near to stop her. Consequences be damned.

Minutes later, she climbed the hillside with fierce purpose. The light guided her on.

If she’d been fearful before, she wasn’t now. The need to see what the light was, and what it meant, drove her forward.

Pushing past bushes, shrubs, and grasses that were nearly waist high, Jean followed the small beacon. No larger than her fist, it led her forward.

Eventually, she was deep within a grove of very old trees. Some were oak, others she couldn’t name. The vegetation all grew in a circle around a ring of megalithic stones. These tall, gray pillars had never been mentioned by anyone living in Bloodnight Hall, but had obviously been around for many centuries if the moss on them, and grass around them, were any indication of passing time. There were thirteen stones, and pieces of stones, that had once been upright. These were placed equal distance apart. The diameter of the circle they formed was about twenty yards.

Someone or something had drawn her to this place. She was meant to be there. That feeling was as strong as any she’d ever had.

That little light was close now; barely a hundred yards away. It hung in the air, on the other side of the stone circle. The orb had nothing to do with any human. It simply hung there, about five feet off the ground.

From the far side of the circle, a man emerged. When he did, the light faded away.

She stepped carefully forward, into the circle of stones.

“Jon Merdwyn…what are you doing here?” she angrily asked.

“My dear, I’ve been living on this old hill for some time now…ever since I found out you’d been taken to Bloodnight Hall. Each evening since we met, I’ve sent out that energy orb, hoping you’d see it and respond. I daren’t do more to entice you to come to me. Not with Garrett Bloodnight watching you as he does. And not as angry as he is over my presence.”

“How do you know what Mr. Bloodnight does? What’s an energy orb?” She glanced back over her shoulder, but the castle was nowhere in sight. The tree line hid everything behind her, even the slope leading down to level ground.

“I know a great many things, but we’ll discuss that later. As to an energy orb…it’s that small light you followed. Being what you are, you’d feel the pull of its power and respond. You could have turned back, but didn’t. You felt a natural call of magic power and surrendered to curiosity.”

“Sir…I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I shouldn’t need to remind you that this land belongs to Garrett Bloodnight. If he finds you here, he’ll tear a piece out of both of us. I wasn’t supposed to leave the castle grounds.”

“Don’t worry. Now that you’ve responded to the orb, as I believed you would, that was the last bit of proof I need to inform the London office of your special circumstances.” He moved closer.

Unafraid, but disliking the encroachment on her personal space, Jean backed up several steps.

“You know I won’t harm you. Surely, you sense this and have all along, my girl.”

“Mr. Merdwyn, what are you doing here? What was that light? Why in the world would I have followed it if not out of pure curiosity? You’re not making sense,” she persisted.

“My dear, you have the same ability as me. We can both pull energy from the environment and create light. This small demonstration, as well as many more, are what most humans would refer to as…magic. Beings like us can conjure things, though to different degrees.”

She glared at him.

“First, you may call me Jon. Second, Garrett Bloodnight is singularly incapable of training you for more than anything but the most standard immortal confrontations.” He slowly shook his head. “No, my dear girl. You are meant for much, much more than lopping heads off rogues.”

She briefly held up her hands “Okay. Just stop! What the hell are you talking about? Aren’t you afraid of Gart and what he’ll do to you?”

“Let me reiterate the particulars of your case, my dear. Your car crash occurred in October of last year. My people tell me you were brought into a trauma room exhibiting some unusual symptoms, beyond those which most new immortals display.”

“What unusual symptoms?” she insisted.

“Your eyes.”

“What about them?”

“They were glowing. Bright green. Greener than that light I used to lead you up the hillside.”

“W-what?”

“This phenomenon was recorded by the emergency rescue staff who picked you up. Such unusual circumstances are kept highly secret, but I was notified as policy dictates. Anytime anyone changes into an immortal, and has that peculiar characteristic, I’m always notified. I allowed you stay with Bloodnight so that I could read his reports on your progress. You’d been through so much already that I didn’t dare burden you with what you really are. Not then. But the time, I think, has finally arrived.”

She stared at him. “What the hell—”

“You, my dear Jean, aren’t just immortal. You’re an Ethereal. If anyone at home office ever suggested that you had no choice except to work for the agency, that’s the likeliest reason why. Though very few of the agency’s staff know of such creatures, those who do would never let you out of their sight. We’re quite rare, you see. So much so that less important government stooges, like David Harrington, are never informed about us. As of this time in history, there are probably less than a few hundred people who know about us at all…worldwide. That’s including staff personnel in the UK. This secret, I’m proud to say, is one that has outlasted most.”

Jean simply stood there glaring at the man, watching his long white hair blow in the wind, and mingle with his flowing beard.

Either he was crazy or she was. In either case, the meeting needed to cease. She shouldn’t have let her curiosity get the better of her.

“I…I need to leave,” she mumbled. “Mr. Bloodnight will be looking for me. If he finds me here…with you…there’ll be hell to pay.”

“I fully expect he’s called out every employee to search for you by now. Not to worry, Jean. No harm can come to anyone in this circle, not from any source,” he told her as he walked into the circle of stones. “This is a sacred place. Anyone attempting to harm another here will find themselves quite debilitated. That includes me. It’s barely possible to lift a sword within these megalithic stones, nor a fist. At least, not in anger.”

She glanced at the stones of which he spoke. “Plenty of people have died in these old places. I’ve read about it. Granted, I’d not heard of this site before, but it’s surely like all the others. Ancient people used to make sacrifices in these places all the time. I saw a documentary—”

“They made sacrifices in other stone circles. Not this one. This one is special. There are a few more like it in the world. You’ll need to learn the location of all of them. They’re actually referred to as protective circles.”

She was as bewildered by his nonchalance as she was her patient participation in the entire conversation. Why was she standing there listening to such ridiculous blather?

“My dear, this is one of the places to which you may retreat if you find yourself beset by anyone looking to harm you.” He waved one hand in dismissal. “Luckily, such sad tidings rarely befall Ethereals. We’re very powerful.”

“What?” She felt like a broken recording, uttering that same query over and over.

“To date, we’ve never even figured out why or how we exist…let alone what we are or how we came by our powers. This is one of the prime reasons our secrecy has been so seriously maintained. Criminals confronted by Ethereals never see us coming. If they’re rogues, they think we’re simply immortals. That’s if we don’t hide our powers and mask our presences from them entirely, which is quite possible. Of course, it will take some time to teach you that little trick. At any rate, whatever our enemies think, they’re either under arrest, or their heads are on the ground before they know what hit them. Bloodnight only felt my immortality because I allowed him to—”

“Wait! Wait just a minute! Slow the hell down!”

“Yes?” he softly responded.

“You had access to my accident records? You’re saying that my eyes glow, and that you’ve been reading reports on me to see how I’ve been progressing. Do I have all that right?” she breathlessly asked.

“Quite so. Anytime an Ethereal appears on the world scene, I’m notified, as I’ve told you. I train and keep track of them, you see. To date, none has ever shown any inclination to becoming rogues. We’re quite fortunate in that respect. Then again, there are so very few of us to begin with. And…we’re so very kind-hearted, and good. Becoming a rogue is likely out of the question.”

“Uh huh. I see.” She shook her head in anger. “Okay…I’m leaving now. I suggest you do the same,” she slowly and carefully told him.

“I know you don’t believe a single world I’ve said, but it’s all true. Sadly, it’s already too late to get back. If I’m not mistaken, the sound I hear is coming from a very large man…someone who’s not attempting to hide his approach.” Merlin snorted. “The man isn’t acting professional. He’s using no stealth at all. However, given the circumstances and his probable outrage, I suppose his bounding up the slope like a bull after a cow is to be expected.”

“Crap!” Jean blurted as she picked up the sound of which Jon Merdwyn spoke.

“Jean! Jean Long! Where the bloody devil are you?”

She winced at the angry timbre of that baritone voice.

“I know you’re here, woman. You left the grounds after I explicitly told you not to! Where are you?”

Jean slowly turned toward the sound of that blustery, angry-sounding call.

“We’re here, Bloodnight. Head this way, lad. You’ll find us,” Jon shouted.

She briefly closed her eyes, gulped and waited.

For the first time, she literally felt the fury of a very large man who, heretofore, had never been in such a bad temper.

I wish I was anyplace else in the world.

She slowly faced the sound of bushes being pushed aside, and old wood snapping as if someone with a lot of power and motivation was shredding it all to bits.

There was one thing about which she was certain. Gart would never let her out of the house again. After this, she’d probably be chained to a post, with Anna Gast feeding her porridge from a bowl.

When Gart appeared, he stopped suddenly and surveyed his surroundings. She guessed that he hadn’t known this old, overgrown stone circle even existed. He seemed shocked to find such a place on his own property. But then, it was totally surrounded by brush and almost completely hidden by a stand of large trees. It was on a hill that was difficult to climb, and on land that most people in the vicinity would likely deem off limits by the owner.

The peace of the circle in which she found herself didn’t last long. The larger and younger of the two men raised his right arm. A massive broadsword was clutched in his hand.

She opened her mouth to warn him of the circle’s powers, even though she wasn’t sure Jon told the truth in that regard. Before she uttered a syllable, a bright green light flashed, and her would-be savior was literally thrown against one of the stones. The speed and force of that unholy attack would have been unbelievable but for the fact that she was standing there and saw it with her own eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Bloodnight,” Jon called out. Then, the older man turned to Jean again. “He’s likely never brought a weapon into such a place, or he’d know these circles have magnificent powers.” He shook his head slowly and passed one hand over his forehead. “I suppose I should let that bit of top secret information get distributed from home office, for the sake of other immortals working with the government. Still, it just doesn’t happen except in movies. No one has sword fights in megalithic circles. At least they haven’t for centuries.” He tilted his head. “Now that I think of it, there are quite a few things I’d better bring to Bloodnight’s attention. It’s high time he knows about me…about us,” he corrected.

Jon moved forward and tried to help Gart to a standing position. Gart angrily pushed the older man’s arm away, and very slowly stood on his own. His sword had been flung to the ground when the energy bolt struck him, the handle of it was well beyond his reach.

Jean stood still, unable to process anything except events occurring in the precise moment. This had to be a dream. It must be.

Gart wobbled like a buoy on water. His expression displayed bewilderment. It occurred to her that some enterprising rogue could take his head at that moment. The man couldn’t defend himself. He blinked as if he couldn’t yet see his surroundings.

For Gart not to know of such protective stone circles, they must be rare indeed. But Jon Merdwyn knew of them. That was when truth began to slowly sink in.

Jon was telling the truth. At least, he was telling the truth as he believed it be.

She slowly put up her hands in a defensive posture. “Don’t hurt him, Jon.”

“My dear girl, you saw what happened when he practiced aggression within the boundaries of a protective circle. Even I am not capable of doing harm here.” He let out a loud, frustrated sigh. “I’m not here to hurt anyone.” Jon then put his attention on the younger man present. “We need to have a talk, Bloodnight. I can think of no better place than here or now.”

Jean held her breath. Gart was still wobbly, from the intense backward thrust into a massive stone. That green blast had done its work well. It’d be some minutes before her trainer could probably speak. Internally, almost every bone in his ribcage must have been shattered, never mind his spine. Gart seemed to be healing fast enough to use his legs. No matter what had been broken, he could still glare. He did so now—at her and Jon Merdwyn.

“I should do away with pretense,” Jon loudly announced. “I didn’t have time on the last occasion, Bloodnight. You weren’t ready to listen when we first met. Now, perhaps you will.” He held out his hand, expecting it to be shaken. “The organization knows me as Jon Merdwyn. In another life…in another century long ago…you might have heard me referred to as Merlin.”