Chapter 7
Bartol
Anyone who thought becoming immortal would lead to a glamorous life full of excitement, easy living, and adventure would be surprised if they took a peek into Bartol’s world. Humans didn’t realize most of his kind suffered through the same boring chores as everyone else, and while they might not live by quite the same rules, they still had their own set of laws to obey. Adventures were few and far between, especially the older one became.
He’d been everywhere and done everything a thousand times. Sheer boredom—and perhaps a bit too much to drink—had gotten him into the mess that landed him in Purgatory. After the first few years there, he’d sworn that once he got out, he’d live a quiet and unexceptional life, which was what led him to clean his gutters on a Monday afternoon when he could have been sleeping, reading a book, or at least taking a nice walk through the woods. He couldn’t seem to sit still during his waking hours anymore, and outdoor work calmed the inner turmoil always raging in his mind from a century of mental and physical torture. It was still difficult to believe he’d finally left the prison that had kept him for so long.
He stood precariously on the ladder he’d borrowed from an unsuspecting neighbor a few miles away—a middle-aged man who worked in the Fairbanks Mining District. Bartol reached as far as his arm could go, grabbing hold of a handful of leaves and pine needles, and dropped them on the ground. They landed in the pile he’d already started.
Footsteps crunching nearby drew his attention. A moment later two men came from around the side of the cabin and into the backyard. They stopped, each of them frowning up at Bartol where he stood on top of the ladder.
“There are easier ways to do that, you know,” Lucas said.
“True,” Bartol agreed, having considered that over an hour ago when he started this project. “But I prefer doing it this way.”
Tasks that got his hands dirty somehow made him feel more real and a part of this world. After all those times he’d been strapped down and helpless while his body was mutilated over and over again, he needed something simple to concentrate on if he were to ever get those memories out of his mind. And this cabin belonged to him, so he could do whatever he wanted to it and no one could stop him. Freedom—a word that meant little to him until it was completely stripped away, and even his next meal had a large question mark next to it.
Lucas nodded sagely, having spent quite some time in Purgatory himself. “I understand.”
The younger man next to him—Tormod—studied Bartol and the gutters. His violet eyes gave him away as being the only nerou with demon blood in him. He had light skin, shaggy brown hair, and a muscular build. Tormod might be fully grown, but his youthful facial features gave him away as still being young and inexperienced in the world. Looking past that, though, the mischievousness in his gaze and the quirk of his lips also revealed the troublemaker he was purported to be.
“What is he doing?” the nerou asked, glancing at Lucas.
“Cleaning the gutters.”
Tormod knitted his brows. “So there actually are gutters? Didn’t you teach us in our English slang class that if one’s mind was in the gutter then…”
“…it is filthy,” Lucas finished. “Much like yours.”
Merriment danced in the young man’s eyes. “Won’t they just get dirty again?”
“Actually,” Bartol said, coming down the ladder. “You’re going to help me with this project, and you’ll be doing it by hand the same as I have been.”
“You’re joking, right?”
Bartol stared hard at the young man. “I joke about little these days.”
“That is true,” Lucas said, his tone implying he wasn’t too pleased about that.
Tormod shifted from foot to foot. “I came here to train, not to be somebody’s slave.”
Bartol had expected this reaction. In fact, he’d counted on it, but with someone like this particular nerou, he had to create a difficult situation for a reason. “Before I teach you anything, I need to get a sense of who you truly are—your strengths and weaknesses. This little exercise will help me with that.”
Tormod gestured at the gutters. “I could have that finished in five minutes with no problem. So what then?”
It wouldn’t take five minutes if Bartol made him clean it with his teeth. “Why don’t you let me worry about that?” He turned to Lucas. “I can handle it from here if you have somewhere else you need to be.”
The nephilim nodded. “Keep him here as long as you need, but try to have him back at the compound by ten tonight. He has a bed time, and we wouldn’t want to ruin his beauty rest.”
“I can handle whatever this guy has for me—no matter how late I have to stay,” Tormod said, crossing his arms.
Lucas narrowed his eyes at the nerou. “Behave yourself, or you’ll be cleaning the gym every day for the next month.”
“But…” Before Tormod could finish, the nephilim flashed away.
Bartol went over to the side of the house, took hold of a rake resting against the wall, and handed it to his new student. “You can begin by cleaning up the mess on the ground. Get it all in one pile, as well as anything else I throw down for you, and then we’ll dump it in the woods after we’re done.”
“Fine.” Tormod grabbed the rake, annoyance flashing in his eyes.
The other nerou were merely long-lived since they were only a quarter angel, which meant they matured faster, but Tormod was more like a nephilim since he was only half human. Young immortals tended to be full of energy and hot emotions. Left to his own devices, he would always be looking for trouble and anything to entertain his curious mind. Bartol couldn’t blame him for his nature, but he could attempt to teach the young man how to slow down and take time to observe the world around him.
He pointed at Tormod. “Do not use any magic—no flashing or super speed.”
“Why?” he asked, impatience in his tone.
“Because you need to learn patience,” Bartol explained. “Your future job will include dealing with supernaturals far older than you, as well as humans who may be frightened and upset. Perhaps a vampire will have just killed someone’s daughter. Not only will you need to learn how to track a dangerous murderer down who may be stronger and more experienced than you, but you will also have to provide comfort to the girl’s family. You will need patience for both, and a full understanding of how this world and the people in it works.”
“I still don’t get the point of this,” he said, gesturing at the pile of leaves and twigs.
“You will.”
Bartol left Tormod to rake the ground and climbed back up the ladder. He took his time clearing the gutters, forcing his student to wait on him. Little by little, they made their way around the entire cabin until all the gutters were clear. Then they used a hose to do a final rinse and make certain nothing was left. Tormod remained quiet for all of it—to Bartol’s surprise—and did what he was told. It was difficult to say if that was a good or bad thing.
“We’ll take our lunch break now.”
“Thank God.” Tormod rubbed his stomach. “I’m hungry.”
They went into the cabin, each taking turns at the sink to wash the dirt off themselves. Bartol may have “accidentally” dumped a clump of mud from the gutter onto his student’s head at one point, which meant Tormod had to scrub his hair and scalp as well. After finishing, they heated the leftover barbecue chicken sitting in the fridge.
“Did you make this?” Tormod asked after savoring his first bite.
“No. Cori grilled it last night and gave me some to take home.”
The nerou took another bite and closed his eyes, chewing slowly before swallowing. “We should hire her as a cook for the training compound. This is way better than anything we can make for ourselves.”
“She runs her own business already, so I doubt she’d be interested.” And regardless, Bartol didn’t like the idea of her being in that place with so many hot-blooded men around. The very idea of it bothered him far more than expected.
Tormod grinned. “I can be convincing when I want to be.”
“You will not try to convince her of anything,” Bartol growled.
“Damn.” The nerou leaned back in his chair, eyes widening. “I didn’t mean it like that. I know she’s Melena’s friend and a human.”
Before Bartol could respond, the sound of a vehicle pulling up the road drew his attention. “Someone is coming.”
“It’s just Emily,” Tormod said, shrugging.
“How did you…”
“Part sensor, remember?” The nerou tapped his temple. “My range isn’t very far—just a couple of hundred feet—but I can pick up auras if someone is close enough.”
Bartol had forgotten about that. It was one of the reasons the angels thought Tormod and the others would be such a threat to the world. They had many of the same abilities as sensors, as well as that of immortals. It was a dangerous combination.
“Bartol!” Emily pounded on the front door. “Get your lazy butt out here.”
Couldn’t anyone knock like a normal person?
“I’ll take care of her,” Tormod said, starting to get up.
“No.” Bartol pointed at the nerou’s plate. “You will finish eating, and I’ll answer my own door.”
He flashed out of the cabin and reappeared behind Emily. “What do you want?”
She jumped about twenty feet in the air, landed, and spun around. “Don’t scare me like that! And since when do you go sneaking up on people?”
“I am training one of the nerou. You should not be here.”
Emily lifted her chin. “I know, but I figured you might want help since it’s Tormod.”
“You don’t think I can handle him?”
“No one can handle him,” she said in a grave tone, but then brightened. “But he’s not so bad when I’m around, and maybe I can help.”
“The last thing I need is assistance from a seventeen-year-old.” She would either get in the way, become a distraction, or both. Bartol didn’t like to be rude to the girl, especially considering she’d suffered a lot for one so young, but he couldn’t have her around right now.
Emily put a hand on her hip. “Right, because you do so well on your own that you’ve figured out how to work all your appliances and your phone all by yourself. Oh, and pulling money out of the ATM—you’re a pure genius at that!”
Bartol was not about to discuss the ATM incident with her. He’d gotten a new bank card since losing the first one, and the bank had been very understanding about him destroying their machine…after a little compulsion told them a random lightning bolt had struck it. His more recent attempts to pull money out of his account had gone much more smoothly—only one caught on fire for a brief moment before he put the flames out.
“We agreed that topic is off limits for the rest of your life,” he said.
Her shoulders slumped. “I just want to help. School sucked today, and I just need to get my mind off of it.”
“What happened?” he asked, softening his tone.
She ducked her head. “You know how sometimes it only takes one small thing to remind you of someone you lost, and then you can’t shake it for a while?”
Bartol had lived for more than eighteen hundred years, and many people he’d cared about had died in that time. He was almost an expert on the matter. “I do.”
“Well, I was going past Hunter’s old locker, and I usually don’t look that way, but for some reason I did today. The guy who has it now was standing in front of it, and he sort of looked the same with his back to me. For a moment…it was like my boyfriend was there.” She hugged herself. “I know he’s dead and never coming back, but for some stupid reason I keep expecting him to pop back up even though it’s been seven months.”
“What you’re feeling is normal,” he said, wishing he could provide some sort of comfort for the girl. “We live in a supernatural world where magical things happen, and you wonder why someone can’t be brought back from the dead.”
She nodded. “Exactly. Melena can retrieve a fallen angel from Hell, and the nerou from Purgatory, but no one can save Hunter.”
He gave her a sympathetic look. “They were all still alive and had their physical bodies—that makes a difference.”
“I know.” She gazed up at him with sad, sensor-blue eyes. “But it doesn’t make it any easier.”
Bartol was a sucker for individuals as lost and hopeless as him. He could hardly turn her away now without feeling like he’d just stepped on a kitten. “Come inside. We were just eating lunch, and there may still be some left if Tormod didn’t eat it all.”
“Really?” Her expression lit up.
“Yes, but you better hurry before I change my mind.”
Emily pushed through the front door before he could take a step toward it and entered his home. Very few people had ever been inside, but she was one of them because she rarely took no for an answer, and he could hardly refuse her.
“Hey, Emily,” Tormod called out from the kitchen. “I saved you a piece of chicken.”
Bartol trailed behind the girl and found the nerou had given up a portion of his own food, putting it on a separate plate for her. He’d also given her a large helping of the beans and potato salad Cori sent with the meat. This surprised Bartol. He hadn’t realized Tormod and Emily were friends, but as the two of them chatted, he concluded they must have gotten to know each other since the nerou came to Earth.
He sat down, keeping quiet and letting the young people talk. Except for when he first moved into the cabin and Lucas and Melena helped him furnish it, there had never been more than one guest inside at a time. He might not like being around people as much these days, but at least these visitors didn’t expect any conversation from him for the moment.
“So did you try that underwear freezing trick I told you about?” Emily asked, cocking her head.
Tormod finished chewing his food before grinning. “I waited until the girls were asleep and then stole all their panties and bras. Stuck them in the freezer in the common kitchen. They didn’t figure out where their stuff was until after physical training and showers when they went to make breakfast. You should have seen how angry they were.”
Bartol choked on a piece of steak, and it took a full minute of coughing to clear his throat.
Emily gave him a concerned look before returning her attention to Tormod. “What happened after that?”
“Well, let’s just say I had to wait a week before the new mattress for my bed arrived.” He shook his head. “They used to never retaliate, but I think someone suggested they should make me pay for the things I do to them.”
“My guess is it’s the cantankerous one who tipped them off.” Emily cast a side glance at Bartol. “Old silver eyes would scheme against you like that.”
It didn’t take much to figure out she meant Kerbasi, though he was grateful the girl refrained from speaking the brute’s name in his presence. Bartol didn’t need his mood souring when he had a nerou to train and a teenager to distract from her woes.
Tormod pushed his empty plate away. “So what’s next, instructor?”
“Now that I have an assistant,” he said, gesturing at Emily. “My plans have altered slightly.”
“What do you mean?” Tormod asked.
“We are going to work on your tracking skills.”
He frowned. “They haven’t taught us how to track yet.”
“We’ll keep it simple today. I’ll show you how to identify footsteps on the ground, whether they are a man’s or a woman’s, and how to spot other disturbances that could indicate someone has passed through an area.” Thanks to Cori’s former husband, he had good examples to use. It would also keep Tormod and Emily engaged and learning something that would be useful in the future.
“Sounds like fun to me,” Emily said, getting up. She helped Bartol gather the dishes and take them to the sink. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to track.”
“Actually, I will also need you to create some prints of your own in the woods, but we’ll get to that after I’ve shown you both an example from a man first.” He started washing the plates, giving them to Emily to dry. “You’ll need comparisons to help you tell the difference.”
“Will we get to do any real tracking?” she asked.
“If you want to return for future sessions, you will.”
Her eyes lit up. “Definitely.”
He was surprised by her enthusiasm. Were all modern females into such outdoor activities these days? There was a time when most women would have balked at the idea of spending an afternoon in a remote stretch of woods getting filthy, and especially doing so with two men who were not their relatives. Times had changed quite a lot during Bartol’s absence.