Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ IMMORTALS ❯ Reality Bites ( Chapter 2 )

 

 

 

CHAPTER ONE:

 

“Sometimes we read something that makes no sense to us. We take in the words as the author wrote them, but can't quite get to where they want us to go. Our understanding is limited to our own life experiences and sometimes those are not enough.”

 

Hands raised as he finished his lecture. With a sigh he allowed a brief question and answer session before closing the session, dismissing the students. It had been a long day and the words written in the journal were not helping his headache. He'd had to dissuade his students from believing that immortals truly existed.

 

With a smile, he shook his head and lifted his briefcase.

 

“Do you really believe that there are no immortals?”

 

The voice startled him. Looking around, he spotted the figure obscured by the shadows in the room.

 

“I think that many people fantasize about them and they make for good movies, but no I do not believe in them.” Kenneth spoke his words carefully unsure who he was talking to, the voice was low and indistinguishable. “I've seen Highlander and the like but as for meeting an actual immortal, I can honestly say that I haven't.”

 

“Would you like to?” There was a definite smirk in the voice now, but the person had yet to step into the light.

 

Pro. Kenneth March, honorary of archeology and theology, was a studied man. He spent his youth and his younger adult years attempting to answer all the questions he's had. Life, death, the many things in between. He'd traveled over the world to seek those answers and had met with some of the most famous and infamous people alive. And while a man's words and philosophy could be immortal, the body was not.

 

“I think that the joke has gone far enough.” He lifted his case to show his intentions and took a step toward the aisle that would lead him out of the room. “I've traveled the world over and while there are some fantastical legends there are no immortals.”

 

“Don't you think that after so long they would have learned to make themselves nearly invisible to the mortals around them? Don't you think that being one such as they, that there is a certain inherent danger to being discovered?”

 

March stopped and looked hard at the shadowed figure. “You're not one of my students are you?”

 

There was a tiny laugh before the voice spoke a soft, “No.”

 

March gave a nod. Probably one of those pesky theater majors looking for a quick reference for a play or something. “There are no immortals. The journal is merely the fanciful musings of a person who had little else to do. He was more-than-likely working on some new book or such and wanted attention.”

 

The laughter was light and caught him by surprise. He was about to speak when the person stepped out into the dim light. If the voice startled him the visage left him in awe. He was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen, if a male could in fact be called beautiful. He stood shorter than Kenneth's own six feet, but looked to be solid muscle wearing a tight short sleeved blue tee and jeans. He was tan with hair the color of mocha, loose around his shoulders and down to his elbows. There were streaks of variegating colors woven in the tresses but the light did not allow for their color to be distinguished. Nor would it clarify the color of his eyes, only allow that they were dark.

 

“To say that something doesn't exist because you have not seen one merely invites it to visit you.” The youth stood with a hand on his hip and his head cocked to one side.

 

Kenneth was unsure as to whether or not he should laugh or run. Considering the next words spoken, he wish he'd done the latter.

 

“We do exist and we do come calling when our attention is peeked.” The youth captured his eyes and seemed to keep him locked in place as he stepped slowly forward. “Heralds have sung songs of us since the beginning of time. Play writes have used us for their muse and painters seek to capture our beauty in any medium they can find, but none have ever admitted to meeting us.”

 

Kenneth swallowed as the boy got close enough so that he could now see that his eyes were a strange amber shade. It was all he could do to breathe as the boy whispered to him. “Would you speak of us should someone ask?”

 

“Chorus!”

 

The shout caused both boy and man to jump. The boy stepped away, spinning to face the newcomer.

 

Kenneth froze as a figure flew down to face the beautiful creature claiming to be an immortal. The other was also male but if the one was beautiful this one was breathtaking. He stood taller than the other boy and wore clothes similar to him but his hair was longer and blonde, tied behind his head in a loose ponytail.

 

“What are you doing here?” The first boy sounded bored as he faced the other youth.

 

Eyes made quick contact with Kenneth's so that he could see that they glowed a soft baby blue hue before switching back. “Confrontations are not allowed.”

 

Chorus, if that was the first boy's name, merely shrugged. “I simply wanted the journal back.”

 

A frown creased the other boy's face before he lunged. An open hand slammed into the first boy's chest and sent Chorus flying across the room to slam into the wall.

 

Kenneth looked at the second boy and noted that he wasn't even winded. “We do not retrieve things lost to us by taking the minds of mortals.” His voice fairly growled as he took a few steps toward the fallen boy.

 

“You always were a bit of a zealot, Criss.” Chorus spoke softly as he wiped blood from his lip. “Where's your keeper? Surely Harlot wouldn't let his little toy out by itself?”

 

“You may want to come over here, Professor.” Kenneth jumped as he turned to see another boy standing next to him.

 

He allowed this one to pull him toward a row of seats and out of the way of the two facing off. “It's like this every time they meet.”

 

Kenneth stared at the new boy completely fascinated. This one smiled at him and reminded him of the angels he'd seen in old paintings. There was an air of innocent sin about him and yet one could tell that he was a danger to cross. He stood two inches shorter than the Professor and wore black, both jeans and shirt, with a choker of leather around his wrists. His eyes were brilliant purple, no other way to describe them. His hair was longer than both the other boys, chestnut in color with amber and red stands woven into a thick braid.

 

“I'm Syn.” He smiled.

 

“I'm sure.” The words slipped out before Kenneth could stop them causing the boy to tip his head back and laugh. It sounded like music filling the room and made the two combatants stop and stare in their direction.

 

“Damn, Syn.” Chorus murmured as he took in the other boy.

 

Criss grabbed Chorus' arm and dragged the boy over to where Kenneth and Syn stood in the shadows.

 

“What the hell was that for?” Criss demanded as he reached them. “You were suppose to wait outside and not reveal yourself.”

 

Syn merely arched an eyebrow and gave the Professor a wink before stepping over to touch Chorus on the forehead. Kenneth gasped as the first boy closed his eyes and fell into the second's arms.

 

“You take too long.” Syn smiled then shrugged. “Harlot was getting worried.”

 

Criss frowned and shifted the first boy more firmly in his arms before heading up the aisle and out the door.

 

Kenneth looked at them before turning back to the one calling himself, Syn.

“Um. . .”

 

Syn smiled. “You have a choice, Professor Kenneth March.”

 

Kenneth swallowed as the beauty stepped closer. His voice was like a caress as he whispered to him. “I can grant you forgiveness and let all this seem a dream or . . .” A soft hand touched his cheek, cupping it as if to kiss him. “I can let you keep these moments with the understanding that we will seek you out eventually.”

 

Kenneth fought to breathe. How the hell could this boy do this to him? He'd never in his life considered males of any race pretty let alone so beautiful he'd leave his wife for them. Looking at the smile that graced Syn's face, he was able to tell what he was thinking and that alone unsettled him.

 

“Choose, Professor.”

 

Kenneth swallowed, his voice leaving him as he whispered. “I, I want to remember.”

 

Syn's smile became sensuous as he placed a chase kiss on the Professor's lips. Kenneth felt as if his breath was being stolen and then replaced with a cool breeze from just that small contact. “So be it.” The whispered words stroked his skin through his clothes as if he were naked and he gasped. When the boy released him, he fell back into one of the seats as if he had no strength left.

 

“T J K, Thomas Jericho Kennedy.” Syn spoke lightly. “A name that means more to us than our own. Remember that name, Professor, he is your savior.”

 

With those words the boy turned and glided up the aisle and out the door as if he were nothing more than a dream. Kenneth sat there for several minutes before he reached into his briefcase and removed the journal. Passed down to him from his grandfather, he had never known what the initials stood for.

 

What had the man known that he should have passed along to his grandson along with the book he'd kept treasured for so long.