Eternal Eden
“You will all learn a great deal more about Immortal gifts, including how to develop your own, in your second phase of training.” Our professor began on our second day of class.
In true gentleman fashion, he was waiting outside my door again this morning when I emerged early for my new favorite subject. I’d decided not to tell him about the generous gift John had bestowed upon me last night, and I hated that I had to keep something from him—it felt deceitful. But I couldn’t tell him the man he already had an aversion to me being around, had given me a seven figure vehicle as if it’d been nothing at all. I couldn’t risk William’s reaction, and whatever would happen to him as a result.
“Our purpose today is to merely scrape the surface of this most mystical of Immortal makings, and answer any general questions you may have.” William turned from the chalkboard, where he’d just scribbled today’s extensive agenda in the same amount of time it took Annabelle to write the date on her notebook.
“Have any of you had any presentations of your gifts yet?”
Chris smiled, and it caught my attention since this was an unusual facial expression for him, but I was suddenly distracted by William’s hand moving like a flash of lightning to grab something that soared at him from behind. He caught the white, cylinder-shaped item before it collided into his head.
“Thank you, Chris,” William announced in a level voice, before turning back to the board with the piece of chalk in hand, and writing down Mover.
I looked over at the gloating Chris and glared at him. He exchanged my glare with a wicked smile.
“As we’ve all just witnessed, Chris is a Mover.” William dropped the chalk back down where it had been resting prior to the show-off sitting next to me willing it to fly at his head. William didn’t appear concerned, but I kept my eyes on the piece of chalk, making sure it stayed in its current resting place.
“Cool,” Annabelle said, sounding awed.
“What’s your cool gift Annabelle,” Chris jeered. “We all know Bryn’s a no show in this department so far.”
I had a very sudden urge to take my index and middle fingers and jab them into Chris’ smug eyes, but found enough willpower to resist.
“Well Master Patrick says he has a theory on that,” she responded, beaming. “He says my gift is being exceptionally beautiful.”
“Ah, Master Patrick . . .” William said, as if in explanation, as he shook his head. A smile of mild disapproval graced his mouth.
“Actually Chris, it can take several weeks for a new Immortal’s gift to present itself, and even when it does, it is quite weak and underdeveloped. So Bryn and Annabelle,”—he looked between the two of his mesmerized female students—“there’s no need to worry that either of you are some kind of Immortal mutant. Just give it some time.”
My smile back at him was timid, Annabelle’s was the opposite.
“Of course our gifts are not meant to use casually, or for our enjoyment.” William shot Chris a look of accusation. “They’re to be used to further our cause, and subject to the Council’s ruling.”
My face did the confusion thing, but my eyes stayed focused on the motionless chalk. William answered my internal considerations. “No one says we can’t have a little fun with our arsenal of capabilities and talents.” His eyes followed mine to the chalk, demonstrating what he was explaining. “However, if Chris were to be so inclined to move a house and hurl it into the Golden Gate Bridge, the Council would not look so fondly upon his action should he have done this without their commission.”
Annabelle’s eyes popped. “He could do that?”
William nodded his head. “With the proper training and development—possibly. Although it all depends on the magnitude of the latent gift we were born with. Development and training cannot compensate for a meager gift.”
Chris sat taller in his seat, no longer looking like an uninterested slouch. Annabelle viewed him with appraising eyes, and I had to admit, I felt a little jealous.
“What would happen if he did that?” I asked.
William glanced to the side, looking as if he were gathering his thoughts, before answering, “It depends upon the magnitude of the offense. Immortal codes are strict and meant to be followed. There is very little leniency for ignoring these codes. This is why Immortals are such good citizens—mercy is in short supply when an Immortal breaks the rules.”
“But we’re Immortals, what kind of punishment could really be persuadable?” I pressed, not understanding. I knew William had put his own Immortality in jeopardy that night I’d entered his world, but that had been his choice. Not the punishment of a Council.
“Gosh you’re slow. Do you really think everyone would be so civilized and well behaved if they could do whatever the hell they wanted without worrying about putting their necks on the chopping block?” Chris snarled at me under his breathe.
And though I wasn’t a Mover (at least not that I knew of), I could still pick up the open book sitting before me, and smack him on the head with the strength of my own hands. Despite my formidable desire to do so, I didn’t. My patience seemed to have increased when I learned I’d be around forever.
“In similar fashion to creating an Immortal, an Immortal can be killed in much the same way.” William’s words were slow, deliberate. “The same energy that is surged into your body to create Immortality, can also be drawn from it as well. Again, a team is needed for this—a team with the same seniority of discipline and focus to draw the radiant energy out.”
I kept my expression flat because his gaze didn’t move from mine. I didn’t want him to censor this part of Immortal destruction because of my internal fear showing itself on my face.
“The energy that runs within us is transitive. It is exchanged between one another when we touch. It can even be exchanged without physical touch when the tie is strong between two beings.”
This, I was familiar with.
“When an Immortal has broken one of our codes and is sentenced to death, this transient energy—that is naturally exuded with touch—is pulled in vast, compressed quantities from the Immortal by the team carrying out the punishment.”
“Big whoop-dee-doo.” Chris twirled his index finger. “So what do I do with all the extra time on my hands now if I have to get the Council’s approval before I can have any fun with my gift?”
“As I mentioned yesterday, in addition to your gifts and the missions you will be tasked with, you will have a Station,” William said, gliding back to the chalkboard and grabbing up the piece of chalk I was still watching. “As young Immortals, your Stations will be menial—maybe a groundskeeper or a cook here at Townsend Manor.”
“A cook?” Annabelle repeated, her face wrinkling with its displeasure.
“Every Station is critical to our ultimate goal. As you mature and prove yourself, your Station will as well.”
“So, other than glorified dishwasher and lawnmower, what could we hope to mature into?” Chris asked, and I wondered if in his Mortality, he’d sounded as sarcastic and troubled as he did in Immortality.
“There are hundreds of Stations, Chris,” William answered, his patience with the Immortal on my left much more advanced than my own. “For example, you could become a Professor or an Instructor, or perhaps an Enforcer—”
“An Enforcer?” Chris said, leaning forward in his chair.
“They’re the Immortal equivalent of police. They see to it that our codes are followed, and if they are not, it is their duty to remind the errant Immortal.” I could make an educated guess what Ben and Troy’s stations were, and which code they’d been reminding William of.
“That sounds like my kind of Station. Is it too early to put in my request to be considered for an Enforcer position when I’ve proved myself after a few decades?” Chris’s eyebrows danced.
“Try a few millennia,” I mumbled to Annabelle.
“So, there’s actually some wit behind that pretty layer of skin, eh?” Chris’s eyes trailed down my body as he le
aned over and whispered, “What else have you got hiding in there?”
My temper, which had never been much of a vice before this lanky Immortal entered my life, exploded. I didn’t consciously command it, but somehow my right hand balled into a fist, and just as I was contemplating my target—his throat, nose or mouth—our professor lost his normal cool, and interrupted my right hook.
William skirted around the table and stood over Chris “You’re excused.” William’s eyes pointed at the door.
Chris narrowed his eyes in reciprocation at the formidable professor glowering over him. Chris shot up in his chair, sending it backwards to the ground, and marched from the library. He glanced back at me with a look that made me feel he’d never hated anything more in his life.
“I’m sorry about that, ladies,” William said, recovering himself. “It can be difficult for new Immortals to accept the change with as much grace as you two. I think we can make an educated guess as to what Chris’s additional gift might be.” He winked, and by Annabelle’s response, I could tell she’d thought the wink all for her.
“Surliness . . . extreme surliness.”