Page 82 of The Immortal’s Mark

Anyone who punishes those who hurt innocents can’t be all that bad.

He nods and gestures to the two duffel bags sitting next to the dresser. “Are you prepared to leave tomorrow? Is there anything else you think you might need?”

“No, you and Eshe have taken care of everything.”

While the alliance leaders plan strategy and security measures, Gregory and Eshe have meticulously planned for my departure.

Their packing includes clothing for every conceivable climate, toiletries, and enough movies and books downloaded on my tablet to keep me occupied for days.

Gregory shrugs. “You will thank me and Eshe when the stakeouts last for hours.”

The door swings open. “Thank me for what?”

Eshe walks into the room without knocking. She glances between the sitting Gregory and where I stand, still in my robe.

“For overpacking for me,” I answer with a smile, then push off the vanity when my stomach grumbles.

“You’re welcome.” She moves over to the dining cart and lifts a domed lid. “Have you eaten?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, you should change and get a quick bite. We’re due to leave within the hour.”

“What?” Gregory and I ask at the same time.

The vampire shakes his head. “But we weren’t meant to leave until tomorrow.”

“There’s been a change of plans.” She plucks a grape from the fruit bowl and pops one in her mouth. “And if you don’t want to be left behind, we need to get moving.”

“On it.” I rush to the dresser to grab my clothes and then hurry to the bathroom.

I close the door and lean my forehead against the wood, inhaling slowly.

This is what I wanted… to be included… to stop being sidelined.

To prove I’m more than a liability.

I remind myself I’m excited. That this is progress. A little anxiety is normal.

So why does it feel like I’m about to waltz into yet another dangerous situation that I might not walk away from on my own?

21

DES

Months ago - Athens

Not wanting to risk the chance Darcie changes her mind, I offer up the first café that comes to mind.

After a leisurely walk through the center of Athens, we arrive outside of Tinos.

The family-owned establishment has always been one of my favorites. Lome and I discovered it in the early sixties, back when blending in required far less effort.

We spent years indulging in the homemade meals before our unchanged appearances drew too much attention. Only after the original owners passed did I dare return.

The hostess leads us to the second-story balcony and seats us beside the wooden railing. Our shaded table overlooks the Athenian skyline, the city’s golden glow stretching endlessly, while crowds weave through the streets below.

Our waitress arrives, and we order cups of coffee.