Page 14 of Destined for Shadows
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.
