Like animals on a fresh hunt, the village people chased them through the dark forest. Briannon remembered the sounds of their
shouting voices and the smell of their warm mortal flesh. With each frantic step they took, the villagers gained ground. As fear
alone kept them going, they ran from the maddening sounds of the hunters.
Despite their abilities, the two immortals could not outrun horses. Although Devin could have saved herself by transforming into
a bird, Briannon was still too young to have mastered such a skill. Rather than leaving her behind, the tall woman remained by her
side as they tried to outdistance the mob. With the night quickly disappearing, they found they had little strength to outrun their
pursuers and felt their strength ebbing with the rising sun. At one point, Briannon was aware of her lover’s hold on her arm.
Before she realized a change, she felt her mate pull her close.
“Briannon,” Devin’s voice was harsh, yet firm, “Go Briannon!” In that instant, she saw into the pools of Devin’s dark eyes. A
love that held no bounds gripped her in its warm embrace. With a deep inhale of breath, the lass tried to keep her emotions at bay.
“We go together, my love,” the fear of losing Devin settled hard within Briannon’s mind.
“No, not this time,” Devin’s voice grew suddenly calm. As they stood in the shadows of the night, Briannon felt the taller
woman’s cold touch against her face. “You must go; you must survive, my beloved. Live as I’ve taught you to live! If possible,
I vow to return to you in another life – another place and time,” the tall woman promised before kissing her one last time.
With a slight cry, Briannon reined in her discipline. Like an obedient child, she ran from the noise as the men’s shouting voices
rose through the air. She heard Devin’s defiant screams echo through the vale. As the surviving immortal reached the top of the
hill, she glanced down in time to watch the men descend upon her lover. As if Devin were nothing more than a child’s doll, they
tore her apart while the woman’s anguished cries of pain screeched through the air.
The young immortal felt Devin’s emotions like they were hers. The searing hotness of the early morning sun drowned the
excruciating pain of the tearing flesh. As her beloved’s existence ended, the redheaded woman felt Devin’s eons of years fade
away in the sun’s rays. With tears streaming down her face, Briannon moved instinctively. She remembered little except the feel
of the earth as she dug a shelter for herself….
As the memories crossed her senses, Briannon heard a voice beckon through her dreams. Familiar and soft, the sound came like
a whisper in the night. At its warming tone, the immortal woman inwardly smiled. “Briannon, jân,” the soft accented voice
brought her closer to reality. She felt the ancient memories of the past disappear from view as new remembrances formed before
her sleeping eyes…
When Briannon met her current servant, she had gone for so long without a mortal beside her. Her life, her existence was filled
with sating her own needs. As an immortal from years ago, she had the maturity and wisdom to live in both her world and that
of the mortals. With her skills she had amassed a small fortune, and although she had been able to gather all of the material
possessions that her heart desired, there was one passion that had eluded her. Never had she given up her search for her beloved’
s soul.
Briannon did not know if immortals were capable of retaining their souls once brought into the darkness. She had contemplated
the idea many times but could not find an answer within herself. All she clung to was Devin’s last promise to return to her if at
all possible. So with this single promise, she never gave up hope of finding her true love.
With every tall woman Briannon met, the question remained in the back of her mind. Is it you? Are you my beloved? The
whisper rose within her thoughts. Yet each time she met a mortal, she quickly discovered that their memories and past lives were
not Devin’s, so she began the search again.
On the night she met Sahar, she had not been searching; instead she had been supervising the delivery of a valuable art piece. As
the international flights arrived and the people from around the globe disembarked from their planes, Briannon stood next to her
business assistant. With a clipboard in hand, the thin mortal man scribbled her instructions onto a notepad.
“Remember to tell the movers that these items are to be treated gently,” Briannon had instructed.
“Yes Madam, gently,” the assistant echoed as the freight doors opened on the large Boeing.
Within the cargo hold, Briannon recognized the handpicked group of men and women. Their crisp clothing, all similar yet void of
military insignias, showed their level of organization. As their leader waved at her, she inhaled deeply as she watched the others
begin to move the crates and boxes onto the lift.
Briannon was so intent on supervising the delivery that she barely noticed the handsome young man walking down the steps from
the passenger’s side. Tall and modestly dressed, the foreign man looked out at the dark airport for a moment, and then began to
cautiously make his way down the steps.
At a sound from the cargo hold, Briannon quickly turned her attention away from the stranger to the delivery of her boxes. The
moment she saw one land roughly on the tarmac, she moved away from her assistant. “Attention imbéciles! Ces trésors ont plus
de valeur que toutes vos vies mises ensemble!” she yelled, then added, for the benefit of those in the group who were not part of
foreign crew, “I said, be careful, you fools! These items are worth more than all of your lives put together!”
At the sight of the cracked wood, Briannon hissed in anger as she began to open the wooden slat that held the treasure within.
She quickly pushed aside the straw packing to reveal the canvas within. Beside her, her secretary stood scant inches away as the
flashlight in his hand lighted up the painting. “Oh my!” a slight gasp escaped his control as he looked at the picture.
“My thoughts exactly!” Briannon smiled proudly as she carefully lifted the painting from its protection. Sealed within a plastic
case covering for protection, the canvas remained fully intact. “Just look at it, Michael,” she smiled as he turned off his
flashlight. “Even with these runway lights, the beauty is still intact. You will never be this close to The Concert again,” she
referred to the precious painting she held.
“Ummm,” her assistant’s feminine stance remained unmoving as he stood staring at the painting over thin, framed glasses. With
his small hand to his lips, his eyes gazed at the prize with awe. “Madame, if I might be so bold to say, this is quite possibly the
greatest painting that Johannes Vermeer ever created!” his voice was a soft whisper.
“Yes, I agree,” Briannon smiled as her eyes gazed at the scene portrayed in the painting. “Just look at the tenebrism. The
contrasting shadows and light are magnificent!” her words were filled with respect for her old friend from the provincial city of
Delft. As she gazed at the sheer beauty of the picture, her memories took her to the exact moment of its creation.
“Poor Jan,” she tsked. “No one ever appreciated him while alive,” she whispered, almost to herself. When she heard the banging
of crates, she quickly returned the container to its protective box.
“Putain, je vous ai dit de faire attention! Damn you, I said be careful!” she shouted at the mercenaries as she ran to the other
crates. “Espèce de mauviettes maladroites, je vous ai recrutés pour votre experience! Allez, Allez! You clumsy fools! I hired all
of you because of your expertise! Hurry up, hurry up!” she shouted at the movers, then shook her head and turned away from
them. The group merely nodded, as they continued to carefully load the crates and boxes into a waiting truck.
Before she could call to him, Michael was by her side. “Make sure that all of these are set up in the climate controlled showcases
at the house,” she instructed as she walked quickly away from the scene. When she glanced at the gate and noticed the customs
officials standing ready, she turned to the thin assistant.
“Have you made certain that all of their offshore bank accounts are in order?” she nodded toward the uniformed personnel.
“Of course, Madame, as per your instructions.”
“Good…good,” Briannon said, almost to herself as she began to walk back toward the terminal. She passed a portly woman with
her clipboard ready to begin the inventory of the shipment. As Briannon cast a beguiling smile, the uniformed official winked
knowingly and nodded as she turned her attention to the paperwork that Michael was handing her. Ever efficient, these people
would see to it that the immortal’s precious cargo leave the airport safely.
Once inside the terminal, the bright lights and loud noises assaulted Briannon. Assured that her invaluable cargo would arrive
before the sun rose over the mountains, the redheaded beauty began to make her way to the waiting car. As she passed a
stranger, a familiar form caught her attention. Stopping in her tracks, she stood silent as she watched the tall young…no, she
instantly realized that her initial impression was mistaken. This tall beauty was no man but in fact a woman. As she gazed longer
at her, she realized that the person was nothing more than a child, perhaps sixteen or seventeen years old.
Briannon smiled to herself as she moved toward the nearest wall. All sounds and movements in the busy terminal seemed to slow
to a deathly pace as her eyes honed in on this figure. The man’s suit worn by the girl was baggy and ill fitting. Although its
design was a decade old, the tall, dark-haired teen was striking as a young man. With shoulder-length dark hair and blue eyes, the
lithe form held Briannon like a magnet. Just as time seemed to hold still, its pace quickened to hyper-speed when the noise from
the nearby crowd shouted out to the girl.
“Hamish?” an old man called out to the stranger.
As if caught committing a crime, the young teen grew pale as she looked up at the aged man. Her eyes darted around in an
attempt to find a quick escape.
“Hamish!” the toothless man started to make his way toward the young woman.
So, you are hiding! The immortal realized as a wry smile crossed her lips. Thinking quickly, she moved with confident steps
toward the tall beauty.
“Salam, Omid! Khīsh āmadīd America! Welcome to America!” Briannon called out to the surprise of the exotic teenager.
Extending her hand, she held the most beguiling smile as she waited for the stranger to talk. “Do you speak English?” she asked
the foreigner under her breath.
“Y-Yes,” the tall girl replied as she glanced nervously at the extended hand.
“Good, because my Farsi is not that good. Et le français? Any better? Betekallem Araby?” Briannon took control of the
situation.
“Oui… Shwayah, a little,” the soft voice replied.
“Good, then we have some common ground.” Briannon cast a sidelong glance at the group of Persians who were gathering
nearby. They spoke amongst themselves as they pointed toward the two. “Now, if you want me to get you out this mess just
follow my lead, fahem?” she smiled.
“Yes,” the dark haired teen glanced nervously around and then lowered her eyes when the old man’s voice grew louder as he
continued to point their way.
“I trust your trip went well? We were worried about you when your plane was delayed,” she said loudly for the benefit of those
around. When she saw the tattered suitcase next to the luggage carousel, she leaned down and picked it up. “Come now, I hope
you are ready to work first thing in the morning! Your services are greatly needed,” she added as she walked confidently past the
group of Iranians.
“Ummm,” the young girl stammered as she ran to catch up.
As Briannon walked through the airport she kept up her chatter knowing that the girl was not comprehending a word of it. When
they were stopped at immigration, Briannon only had to wave her special papers that allowed her and her guest through
unstopped. It was not until they entered the comfort of her private car that she turned her attention on the young woman.
As she sat next to Briannon, the girl’s alert eyes darted at the interior of the Mercedes. When she looked at the driver in the front
seat, she gulped as she looked at the commanding woman, and then shyly turned away. Smiling at the girl’s reaction, the
immortal pressed a button on her side of the car that closed the glass partition separating the driver's seat from the passenger
compartment.
“Again, salām. Esman é Briannon. Esmetān chī st?” she introduced herself in the girl’s native tongue, and then asked her name.
