Chapter 5
Bartol
His cupboards were empty. Bartol opened them one by one, searching for a can of soup, crackers, or anything else he could possibly eat. All he found was a dead spider in a dark corner whose carcass he had to throw out. He might be hungry, but not that hungry.
He always put off buying food for as long as possible. Making his way through modern grocery stores left him uncomfortable and confused. Never mind that the English language had changed more than expected during his century-long absence, so many things no longer made sense. What did they mean by something was “cool” when the temperature had nothing to do with it or “epic” when it was hardly that impressive? And how in the world did using a thin plastic card become an acceptable form of currency?
Melena’s adopted daughter, Emily, came to visit him sometimes. She explained these things to him as best she could, but he still had some difficulty making sense of it all. Immortals could handle the steady evolution of language over time as long as they were around to experience it. Or if they went into a deep sleep for a few decades, they came back refreshed and able to take in a great deal of information at once. Bartol had neither of those advantages.
After a final glance at the empty refrigerator, he resigned himself to a trip to the store. He focused his attention on his preferred place in Fairbanks, caught a brief glimpse of the parking lot as it currently appeared, and then flashed himself to a spot between two trucks where he wouldn’t be noticed. Thankfully, it was mid-morning and not a lot of people were out shopping.
He headed toward the front doors and went inside, taking in his surroundings before moving farther into the store. A cashier glanced over at him, cringed, and looked away. While the reaction was typical, it never failed to bother Bartol. When he’d been on Earth before, women—and even some men—practically swooned in his presence and fawned over him and his good looks, but this young man today only saw his scars and showed revulsion. Cori was the only one who never appeared to notice them or care. Bartol didn’t know how she could so easily ignore such a thing, but it was one of the reasons he tolerated her visits, aside from her food. She made him feel…normal. She had no idea how much that meant to him even if he’d rather she stay away.
Grabbing a hand basket, he walked briskly through the store. Bartol grabbed half a dozen cans of soup, a bag of potatoes, milk, cereal, and a few pieces of fruit—thinking he should vary his diet a little more. He paused in front of the meat section, frowning at the display. It still baffled him how everything was already cut and prepackaged. They’d even ground the beef, though he recalled a time when they did not do that until after an order came in for it. Did he dare try making something like hamburgers?
For all his life, someone else had prepared his meals for him—either his current lover or a cook at a public establishment. The only exception was when he hunted for a fresh kill and cooked it over an open fire, which was a skill he’d learned at a young age. He’d only begun to master the art of heating soup on an electrical stove in the past couple of months. If he didn’t try new things, though, he would never learn. Bartol was getting very tired of soup and baked potatoes as his primary sources of nourishment.
He stuffed two packages of ground hamburger meat into his basket and went to look for bread. He stared at the variety of offerings with a sense of bewilderment. How could there be dozens of types of bread and each for a different thing? There was a time when one went into a shop and found only one or two kinds. He spotted a package labeled for hamburgers and grabbed it. Surely he could not go wrong with such a choice if it was named for the food he wished to cook. He selected a plain bottle of ketchup as well, remembering he liked it on the last hamburger someone else prepared for him.
Bartol’s basket was overflowing by the time he reached the cashier. He didn’t go to the man who had cringed at him. Instead, he went to the checkout stand with a female at the register. She had seen him before and didn’t act as uncomfortable since she was there almost every time he came into the store.
“Hamburger meat?” She ran the two packages he’d gotten through the scanner. “I see you’re getting brave.”
“We shall see. I may very well poison myself trying to cook and eat it,” he replied, not quite meeting her gaze. He could feel her staring at him and did not want to see if she had disgust in her eyes.
She let out a small laugh. “You’re supernatural or something, right? Is it even possible for you to get sick from food poisoning?”
Bartol glanced up, surprised to find her expression friendly. “For a brief time, we can feel ill if the food is bad. How do you know I am not human?”
“For one, your eyes are unnaturally golden and your skin sort of glows. For two, I was outside on a break once when you appeared out of nowhere in the parking lot, and another time when you disappeared after buying your groceries.” She set the fruit on a scale and typed something into the register. “If I could do that, I’m not sure if I’d stick around long enough to pay.”
Bartol grunted. “I have been many things in my life—some of them not good—but I am not a thief.”
She ran his total up and smiled. “Good for you.”
He handed her the cash for his purchases, and she gave him his change. Though paper currency had altered somewhat in appearance, he was grateful it was not so much that he couldn’t handle the differences—as long as he steered away from credit cards.
“Have a good day,” she said as Bartol took hold of his bags, then gave him a wink. “Just cook the meat until it’s brown, and you’ll be okay.”
“Thank you. I will try that.”
He nodded at her and made his way out of the store. Outside, a mother and two children—a boy and girl—were walking across the parking lot coming straight for him. The boy gawked at Bartol and pointed. “Mommy, look. That man’s face is half melted.”
The mother glanced at him, horror filling her features. “Shh, you shouldn’t say such things.”
Her daughter buried her face into her leg and cried.
The woman grabbed her kids and gave Bartol a wide berth as she made her way to the entrance. He stood frozen for a moment, loathing himself for upsetting children. There had been a time when he loved kids, and they loved him. Now they looked at him as if he were a crazed animal or something. The experience made him sick to his stomach.
Not caring if anyone saw him disappear, he flashed to his home. The world around him moved by in a kaleidoscope of colors, and a moment later, he stood in his kitchen. It was warm and welcoming after his trip. Bartol recognized that his cabin might not be anything luxurious, but at least he could be comfortable in it. If he could find a way to avoid going into town again, he would do it. It seemed as if every time he went out something happened.
Bartol quickly put away his groceries, leaving out an apple to chew on while surveying the kitchen. He noted a bit of dust on top of his refrigerator. It had been a few days since he’d performed a thorough cleaning of his home, so it was about time he did it again. Once he finished, he could heat up a more proper meal.
After finishing his fruit, he tossed the core in the garbage. Then he took a washcloth from one of his kitchen drawers, moistened it, and started wiping down every surface. After that, he swept the floors and mopped them, noting that the wax he’d put on the wood recently still appeared unmarred and shiny. All his busy work took up no more than an hour. Bartol washed his hands and heated some soup. He’d worked up enough of an appetite that he consumed the large bowl in less than five minutes. There was nothing left to do after that, and he wasn’t tired enough to take a nap as he often did after eating.
An image of Cori entered his mind, and he recalled the attack from two nights ago. He’d found a few boot prints near the area where she claimed her assailant had been lurking in the woods, but there’d been no other sign of his presence or where he went from there. It was highly likely that if he came once, though, he would return.
There was something else that bothered him. The fear in Cori’s eyes hadn’t been for a stranger, but rather for someone she knew and had not expected to see. It annoyed Bartol that she would not tell him anything more about the man. If he had any sense at all, he would do as she asked and stay out of it. Yet he’d never seen the human woman frightened of anything, and he found himself bothered by the idea of her coming to harm. She might annoy him at every turn, but that did not stop him from feeling a certain level of protectiveness for her.
Deciding on a course of action, Bartol turned himself invisible and flashed into the woods near Cori’s house. If the man did return, it was best to catch him off guard. Cori had left for work a couple of hours ago, but if he was a stalker it could be that he’d return to her house while she was away. He might even try to break into her home.
Bartol wandered the woods, searching for any sign of the man’s return. There were no new boot prints, and he didn’t find any of the brush disturbed. Could this person have been supernatural? Without getting the full story from Cori, he had little to go on.
He let out a growl of frustration. Since returning to Earth, he had taken little interest in anything, but now he found himself plagued with the need to resolve this situation before it became worse. Sitting inside his home alone would accomplish nothing. He might not wish to be around people but tracking his neighbor’s attacker was something he could do without having to socialize. Walking in the woods was something he did for exercise anyway.
He broadened his search to farther out. After an hour of wandering the woods and flashing back to check the interior of Cori’s home, though, Bartol came to the conclusion there was nothing more to be found that day. He returned to his home, turning visible again, and paced between the living room and kitchen. He felt like a lion trapped in a cage, except his was of his own making.
Bartol’s gaze fell on the cell phone sitting on the side table by his front door. It was still attached to a charger just as it had been since Lucas gave it to him several months ago. He had a general idea of how to use it courtesy of Emily’s instructions, but he’d never had anyone to call, and the strange device made him nervous. Telephones had changed quite a lot in the past hundred years. It was as if the world had conspired against him while he was away to ensure he’d feel as out of place and bewildered as possible once he returned.
But something inside him was changing. He didn’t want to sit around his house all day with nothing to do other than clean, sleep, or eat. And though he might not wish to stray far, Lucas had given him another option. Bartol could help with the nerou, who were likely as lost in this world as him.
He picked up the phone, detached it from the cord, and pushed the button at the top. The screen lit up, and he entered his passcode. It was the year he was born with a zero in front—0210. He’d heard using significant dates was a bad idea, but no one knew the precise time of his birth except him, and perhaps the archangels. Even Melena could only estimate his age to within a couple of decades with her sensor abilities.
The lock screen went away, and a message appeared telling him he needed to do an update. An update? The damn phone was only a few months old. He muttered a curse and tapped the screen to cancel the message. It led him through a couple of more prompts before he finally reached the “home” screen he recognized from Emily’s instructions. He searched for the address book where several of his friends’ names and numbers had been programmed. Finding Lucas, he tapped the nephilim’s name. Bartol’s large finger accidentally hit the wrong spot on the screen, and the phone started to call Cori.
“For God’s sake!” He tapped madly, barely able to stop the call before it went through, and tried Lucas again. He was much more careful aiming his finger this time.
“I can see you’ve finally moved into the twenty-first century,” Lucas answered after one ring.
Bartol snorted. “Hardly. You have no idea what I just went through.”
“It cannot be worse than when Kerbasi learned to use a cell phone. He broke three of them before he learned to make his first call. It took two more phones before he mastered it.”
Though Bartol could hardly stand to hear the guardian’s name, it did bring him some comfort to hear Kerbasi had fumbled with technology even worse than him. “My phone is still in one piece, though I was tempted to throw it.”
“Do not feel bad. Even the most technologically adept humans are known to toss their phones into walls for one reason or another.” Amusement colored Lucas’ tone. “I have a few more phones on standby in case you break that one.”
Why did that not surprise him?
“I wanted to speak with you about training Tormod,” Bartol said, wanting to get to the point of his call.
“What have you decided?”
Bartol paced across his living room, clutching the phone to his ear. “I am willing to give it a chance.”
“Good.” There was a brief pause, and it sounded like Lucas was shuffling through some papers. “I will bring him by Monday afternoon after his physical training to introduce him to you. If all goes well, he can get there on his own after that.”
“Monday?” Bartol hadn’t expected things to move that quickly. That was less than two days away.
Lucas chuckled. “He grows restless at the compound. The sooner we get him out of there for a while, the better.”
He supposed he could understand that, considering his own reasoning behind taking up the offer. “There is something else I wish to speak with you about as well.”
“Yes?”
“Have you heard about the man who attacked Cori?” Bartol asked.
“Melena told me. She believes he was a vampire, and she’s already working on a way to track him down,” Lucas replied.
That would make sense. Bartol couldn’t see any other way the man could have disappeared that quickly the other night. “I should tell you that I got the sense Cori recognized him. Did she happen to say anything to Melena about it?”
Lucas was silent for a moment. “He is a man from her past, but my wife swore me to secrecy on the details, and she will likely remove my entrails if I tell you anything. You must ask Cori if you want to know anything else.”
“She denied she even knew him,” Bartol growled.
“I am surprised you are this concerned. Cori is just a human after all.” There was more than a little curiosity in Lucas’ voice.
“She brings me food sometimes,” Bartol said, using the first excuse that popped into his head. “And her meals taste far better than your wife’s cooking.”
Lucas laughed. “Cardboard boxes taste better than Melena’s cooking.”
“This is true.”
“But something tells me Cori bringing you food is only part of the reason you’re being protective of her.” Lucas paused. “Is there any other reason?”
Bartol couldn’t get anything past his old comrade, but it wasn’t any of his business. “She is your wife’s friend. The last thing I want is for Cori to die on my watch, and Melena to come after me. I prefer my entrails to stay inside my body, the same as you.”
“A wise choice.” Lucas chuckled. “But you are only fooling yourself if those are your only reasons for helping a human. Be honest, Cori can be endearing…in her own way.”
“There is nothing more to it,” Bartol said, refusing to acknowledge the mixed emotions he felt on the matter.
“Try talking to Cori again,” Lucas suggested. “She needs you, whether she realizes it or not.”
Bartol didn’t know what to think of that. “Very well, I will.”