Free Immortal Mine by Cindy C Bennett Page A

back into
his voice. “How long ha’ it been since we’ve seen one?”
    “Too long,” I answer. “But why does it have
to be her?”
    We sit in silence for long minutes, both
considering. When Shane speaks again, he’s back under control, all
traces of his true heritage lost in his American accent.
    “Okay, well, it is what it is,” he reasons.
“It’s not completely unheard of for an immortal to bond with
another immortal.”
    “But we don’t know for certain that she is . We only suspect. And there’s only one way to find out
for sure.”
    Shane nods. He understands instinctively
what I’m talking about. It’s bad enough to bond with a mortal, and
have to watch them die. The only way to take that nightmare to a
new level is to add in the possibility that she might be
immortal, but not know unless she dies—and comes back—before her
fifty-third birthday. To watch her pass that benchmark and not
“die” beforehand means an eternity of living with if . To
lose her before that and have her not be immortal is
unthinkable.
    Leave it to me to bond with a temperamental,
stubborn, pig-headed, possible immortal.
     
     

Chapter 12

Niahm
     
    Gotta love Saturdays. I can sleep in ‘til
six. I don’t have to get ready for school, before I get up and
start my chores. I don’t even bother with makeup or doing my hair.
I can get to that later.
    “Hey, mom,” I say as I walk into the
kitchen. She’s already up, making me breakfast.
    “Morning, baby,” she says, walking over to
kiss me on the head as I drop into a chair. I don’t get to be
babied too often, so I take advantage when I can.
    “Where’s dad?”
    “Oh, he’s out in the stable, admiring those
Coleman horses.” She puts a plate of food in front of me—the kinds
of food I never eat when I’m home alone, like bacon, eggs, and
toast—and sits down across from me.
    We talk about her and my dad’s newest book,
which the publisher is pushing for a completion date on, and I
update her on the nothing new that’s been going on around the farm
and in town.
    “Why don’t you invite the Coleman’s out to
dinner, Niahm?” Mom asks, taking a bite of her dry toast. Ugh. I
can’t eat toast unless it’s slathered with butter and jam.
    I roll my eyes. “I’m sure they’re inundated
with invites, mom. I’ll bet they haven’t eaten at home once.”
    “Well, now, if everyone assumed that, they
wouldn’t be getting a single invitation, would they?” I huff out a
sarcastic sigh at her words. “Just ask them, okay?”
    She knows I won’t deny her. It’s so rare
they’re home, that when they are, there isn’t much I won’t do for
them.
    I stand up and kiss her on the head, as she
had done to me. “Sure, mom, I’ll ask. Just for you.”
    “You’re a good girl, Niahm,” she says as I
walk out the door.
    As I near the stable, I can hear my father
talking. Not so unusual, for him to talk to himself, or Bob. I hear
a familiar voice respond and pick up my pace. As I round the
corner, my fears are realized as I see my father standing in
conversation with Sam.
    I’m surprised to see Sam here so early,
especially after his strange behavior the day before. He seems
happy this morning, his anxiety gone. He glances up at me and
smiles, his smile open, but behind it just a tinge of the wariness
resides.
    “Hey, Sam, Dad, what’re you two up to?” I
ask, rubbing Bob who bounds over, excited, as if he hadn’t just
left my room thirty minutes ago.
    “Well, there’s my princess,” my dad says,
pulling me into a one-armed hug as he ruffles my hair. I groan—it’s
bad enough that he calls me that in front of Sam, but his ruffling
of my hair recalls to my mind that I haven’t even brushed it, let
alone put a spot of make-up on. I guess I should at least be
grateful that I brushed my teeth.
    “Your dad was just telling me about his
experiences, photographing other countries,” Sam says, trying to
hold back a grin at my obvious