Page 20 of Destined for Shadows
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.
