Gifted

Gifted

by

Alice Benton Shryock

SMASHWORDS EDITION

*****

PUBLISHED BY:

Alice Benton Shryock on Smashwords

Copyright © 2011 by Alice Benton Shryock

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

ISBN 978-0-615-43723-1

Thank you little sister for harassing the hell out of me.

Chapter One

She held back an anxious giggle. For the past two hours she’d been hiding in the top of a very tall pine tree. A shiver of anticipation shimmied up her spine as she contemplated what they would do today. Play games? Sing? Tell jokes? From her post high above, she scanned the well-traveled path for any sign of their arrival

No one yet, but they would come. She was sure of it.

And when they did, she would be able to see everything. The branch she sat upon was high enough to allow her a perfect view of the rocky lakeshore, the small copse of trees, and the grassy meadow. Humming softly to herself, she nestled into the crook of the branch and waited. Eventually her eyes grew very heavy and she fell asleep.

Excited cries woke her. She sat up and looked around, wiping the sleep from her eyes. There—not far below her were three boys. What were they doing? She leaned forward listening intently to their shouts.

Shut your eyes and let go!

I can’t; I’m afraid Johnny!

How exciting, a game! Two of them were watching a third, Peter—if memory served, in complete bewilderment. The poor boy had a white-knuckled death grip on a frayed rope; it was attached to a limb that jutted in a wide arc over the lake. She watched them closely—entranced by their actions.

Don't be afraid Peter! It's only a rope swing for goodness sake. Let go!

No! shouted Peter who swayed gently in the breeze.

The two boys shook their heads in disappointment. What the devil was Peter so afraid of? The water wasn't that deep—it wasn't dark or murky. It was actually quite inviting.

I told you he wouldn't do it Nick; let's help him back up before he goes into fits.

Reach up Pete, said Johnny, leaning down with his hand extended.

I can't. If I let go, I'll fall.

Nick scooted further down the branch and called out: Just reach up you ninny, Johnny's right above you! Hurry before the others get here.

Peter let go with his left hand for a split second, but immediately grabbed the rope again. He dangled. And began to cry.

For goodness sake Pete, do not start bawling. We will just have to go get some help. I'll get Alastair from the stables. He won't laugh at you. Jonathon looked back at Nick and rolled his eyes. Together they shimmied their way back up the branch. Nick had just reached the little knobby part, where the branch was beginning to show signs of a burgeoning fracture, when he heard laughter from below.

William, look at the birds! Have you ever seen such an ugly species?

Great. William and Richard had arrived. It wouldn't be long before they started throwing—

Ow! shouted Johnny as a rock clipped his shoulder. The two boys on the ground laughed hysterically and pointed from the shore. Nick opened his mouth to tell them to shove off when a wicked crack split the air. He had less than a second to wonder if someone had fired a gun before he found himself gasping for air in the crisp cool water of the lake. He thrashed around for a moment before finally catching his breath and swimming toward shore.

As he reached shallow water someone yelled out, Well, Pete's finally done the rope! All heads turned to Peter, who stood in ankle deep water shaking from adrenaline and fear. Nick started to laugh—he couldn't help it. Within seconds, they were all doubled over with laughter. They held their stomachs, slapped one another on the back, and wiped their eyes. Even Peter managed a meager smile.

In high spirits now, they shed their clothes and jumped in the water, splashing and dunking one another exuberantly. They were a glorious sight as they scampered about the shoreline. The others finally arrived and the seven boys spent the afternoon cooling off and splashing around the lake.

The watcher in the trees could not have asked for a more exciting day. Well, in actuality she could, but—no she couldn't. Could she? She looked at the boys again. They lay on their backs along the shoreline, reflecting, as boys often do, about life and ambitions. Cautiously she climbed down the tree, listening intently to the boy's conversations.

I wish to go sailing, said Stephen. Father has promised me a schooner to take to Dover this summer.

What hasn't your father promised you, murmured Nick in a bored tone; he was very close to falling asleep.

Stephen scowled in response.

Don't be such an arse Nick, replied Johnny, hoping to keep the peace before it escalated into a brawl. For some reason, the playful banter of their youth wasn't as funny anymore, especially when the subject of class came up. Nick, Stephen, Richard and William were all sons of British nobility who summered together in the English countryside. The other boys were sons of servants who served the nearby estates year round.

I am not being an arse, responded Nick rolling over. It was a simple question addressed to someone else. Why you felt compelled to comment is beyond me.

Johnny ignored the jibe and smiled easily. I'm just being nice because of your infirmity.

What's that? asked Nick looking up in confusion. I'm not ill.

No, not at all. Not really, responded Johnny laying back and folding his arms behind his head. I mean you can't help it if your bits are so much smaller than mine, he said with a smile.

Nick opened his mouth, prepared to launch a brutal counter-attack, but decided to let Johnny win a round for once when he saw the other boy's good-natured smile. He lay back down. You wish, he mumbled as he closed his eyes.

Peter rolled over lazily. I only want to lay here forever. Isn't it lucky for us no one knows about our spot? All seven boys nodded in agreement, drifting back to quiet reflection. They were startled when a stranger's voice broke the silence.

Yes, it is truly a lovely spot Peter!

Nick, whispered Johnny. Who was that?

I don't know, but…listen—someone's singing—

Sweet and melodic, the lilting tones drifted toward the shore accompanied by light splashing. Nick looked over his shoulder and drew in a deep breath. A long arm whipped from the water, followed by another; a willowy body glided in a perfect backstroke across the surface of the lake. It was a lady. He swallowed thickly. She turned her face to the side, winked and began to sing again softly.

With a fluidity the likes of which Nick had never seen, she turned smoothly in the water and breast stroked toward the boys, stopping when the water reached her shoulders. Bobbing up and down, she treaded water, her head tilted to the side as she studied them. Nick started to feel lightheaded and then realized he'd been holding his breath. He let it out and she smiled in response.

Someone coughed and the boys snapped out of their stupor. Their initial shock was quickly replaced with alarm. Modesty overpowered them; they scrambled about, looking for clothes, and covering with their hands what they couldn't hide behind the rocks and bushes lining the little beach.

You there, said Nick, stepping forward. He was always the first to take charge, although in this case he was simply the first one in a pair of breeches. Who are you? Do you realize you are trespassing on the Earl of Whittingham's lands? He used his most impressive command voice; he'd been working on it since he'd noticed it deepening earlier in the spring. Unfortunately today it broke and he sounded more like an angry barn owl than a sophisticated man of authority.

She laughed and lay on her back in the water, floating and staring at the blue sky. I did not realize land truly belonged to anyone, she said in a soft dreamy voice.

Land not belong to anyone? He didn't quite know how to respond to her remark. What had she meant by that? Of course people owned land. By title and by right. What a silly girl. This land belonged to his father, so by rights it belonged to him.

As he tried to come up with a polite response, he failed to notice Johnny lean forward and nudge him. Surprise pulled him from his thoughts and he slipped on a wet stone. Embarrassed, he regained his bearing in as dignified a manner as possible and edged closer to the water with a purposeful stride. Well, yes it does actually. Land that is—it can belong to anyone who inherits it or can buy it. This land belongs to my father. Are you one of the servants?

She moved forward and swam to the shallows; as she rose from the water, her white gown clung to her like a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination. The boys stood in shock; William actually passed out.

I am no one's servant, she said matter-of-factly.

Who are you then? asked Nick weakly, trying to be a gentleman but unable to drag his gaze away from the dark triangular thatch at the apex of her thighs.

She laughed again, the sound like the ringing of tiny bells, fairy bells his mother would have called them. She stepped forward and caressed his cheek. How you have bewitched me this day, she said looking at the seven boys shivering and trying to painfully hide their reaction to her wet gown.

Who are you? asked Nick again, his voice barely a whisper.

She didn't answer—simply moved from boy to boy—smiling sympathetically at their discomfort. Please, do not be embarrassed. Such a delight you are! The scent of vanilla filled the air, growing stronger as she walked among the boys.

Nick breathed deeply. He'd never smelt anything so wonderful in his life. Why is that? I mean why do you find us delightful? he asked. Swimming and napping do not constitute a party. 'Tis simply relaxing.

Ah, that was just the thing I needed though, was it not? You see, I set off this morning on a most unpleasant task, but found myself wishing I could be someplace else—someplace warm and inviting. Then I remembered the boys from the lake. Many times have I passed this spot and longed to join in your games. So from the trees I watched you and eventually decided a swim might be the perfect thing to cheer me up. Thank you for the inspiration, for I believe it worked quite well.

She studied them closely. I believe I will leave you with a gift.

What kind of gift? asked Stephen.

Oh a very special one indeed. You must use it wisely though and never for ill intentions. Do you agree?

The boys looked at one another, considering. What could possibly be bad about a gift? They shrugged and nodded.

Good. She held her hands out. Come, gather 'round me, quickly now. Peter drug William by the arm, while the others scrambled to her side.

Now shut your eyes, she said.

They complied and heard her whisper softly, "largior vita."

Nick frowned. Latin may not have been his strongest subject, but he knew enough to understand their gift was—life? But that made no sense. They were already alive.

When they opened their eyes she was gone.

Nick stumbled back. What? he looked at his hands—looked around for the lady. What was that? Where did she go?

Some gift, grumbled Stephen. I was hoping for my schooner.

I rather thought it would be something a little warmer and softer, said William, trying painfully to adjust his swollen member in his damp breeches.

Johnny shoved William playfully in the arm. As if she would have chosen you over me.

Doesn't matter anyway, Peter remarked neutrally.

Wretched bitch. If she has something so special, we should have it too. Lots and lots of it, said Stephen, kicking a pile of rocks.

Let's go find her. Give her a gift of our own, said Michael with a scowl.

Nick just shook his head in disgust. Just forget about her. She was nothing special. In truth, I wasn't impressed with her from the beginning. She was probably just one of the easy women from the village. Come along. Let's head back for the day.

One by one they gathered their things and left their special place. It was hot as they trudged home. Nick wished for a breeze to cool them off. Seconds later, when a gentle wind lifted the sweaty hairs around his face, he paid it no mind, his thoughts already on what cook had planned for the evening meal.

Chapter Two

Nick Chambers paused midstep on the cracked sidewalk across the street from his apartment. The abandoned industrial district of St George, Michigan wasn't the most scenic neighborhood in the area, but what it offered in privacy was worth the view of overgrown lots and crumbling buildings. Tonight, however, the ambience was a tad unsettling.

From his right, he could hear grass rustling softly. Movement caught his eye, a vague silhouette lumbering through the vacant lot. Someone was walking towards him. Quickly at that.

A familiar voice cut through the darkness. It’s been awhile old chap.

Nick sighed. The voice was one he had not heard in some time—one he'd hoped desperately never to hear again. He cursed himself for not picking up on the other man's presence earlier. He was getting careless in his old age.

Assuming a defensive stance, he watched as a tall blonde man stepped through the weeds and high-growing brush. With a look of disgust, the man brushed dirt and grass from a black leather coat. He stopped and faced Nick. Then he smiled. Lit from behind by the artificial glow of a street lamp he appeared angelic, but Nick knew appearances didn't mean shit.

Jonathon Duncan had come for a visit. He held back a sigh; he really didn't need this tonight. Unease filled him, but he kept his face expressionless as he regarded the pale-faced man. Though it had been many years since they’d last met face-to-face, he was totally unchanged. They both were. And it wasn’t due to healthy living.

Before he could say a word, Jonathon smiled and mumbled something softly. A streak of white light lit up the lot as Nick dove behind an abandoned car for cover.

"Agito!" he shouted quickly in response. The light shot upward shattering a street light on impact. Sparks lit the darkness before fading into nothingness—leaving the sidewalk directly in front of him deep in shadow.

Panting, he leaned back against the car. He counted to three quietly then raised his head to try and sight Duncan, only to find he had disappeared. Where the hell did he go, he thought standing slowly and looking around the lot. Had he disappeared back into the trees? Just like the pansy bastard to show up and then run away.

He tried to stay low, but at 6'5 there was no comfortable way to crouch behind a car so he stood. "Ventus," he whispered, gazing intently toward the trees.

The wind picked up—blowing in from the north—bending and cracking branches in its wake. Picking up speed, it barreled across the lot, whistling and screaming through the trees. Smiling in satisfaction, he watched as Duncan walked out of his subterfuge, struggling against the wind. He held his hand in Nick's direction; his mouth moved, but Nick couldn't make out the words. The