The Deathless Trilogy

2.3. Gunther Quail

Jane opens the door. "Isla Blume, sir," she says, bowing her head.

Gunther Quail stands at the end of the room, a shadow in front of the illuminated stained glass window behind him. The grey glass sheep graze in a green field with a rising sun just on the horizon.

My eyes adjust to the light from the stained glass, and his wide face comes into focus. He's smiling, and upon seeing me, he shoos Jane out the door. I glance back at her and place my hand on her shoulder. She squirms beneath my touch, and then darts her eyes to the floor before hurrying out of the room.

"Isla Blume," Gunther sighs. Now that we're not talking in the middle of a battle zone, I can hear the true timbre of his voice. Deep and melodic.

He slowly takes a seat, and I notice that he's behind a U-shaped golden table with three empty chairs on either side of him. This must be where the Leaders here meet.

A single empty chair waits in front of the desk, where a platter of steaming rice has been prepared, and he motions for me to sit. As I lower myself into the seat, he pushes the platter and a gold fork toward me. "Eat up, Ms. Blume." I lift the fork with caution. "It's not poisoned," he says, "don't worry."

I hadn't even thought of that, but now that I am, the growling in my stomach calms. "Poisoned?"

He chuckles and rests his elbows on the desk. "It wouldn't be. I don't need to kill you... yet."

I drop the fork, not quite sure what else to do with his threat, before he bursts into laughter. "That was only a joke. The rice is perfectly safe, and you look famished. Eat."

I grip the fork in my palm like I held the shiv I made in the cell in case Gunther's joke had a hint of truth to it. I poke the prongs into the side of the mound of food, and he laughs again. "Eat," he insists, smiling like we're old pals. Like he didn't just try to blow me up.

I pick at a few bites, telling myself I'll have the patience to eat slowly, just in case; but once the salts touch my tongue, I dive in, unable to pull back even if I wanted to. I'm too hungry.

He watches me eat, his elbows still resting on the desk, and smiles. Beneath his suit jacket sleeves, I can't see if he has controls on his arms; but he wouldn't, would he? He's the one putting them in everyone. He's smart enough not to do that to himself.

My entire body tenses like the air is made of pins and needles, so I take a few more bites to satiate the gobbling monster in my belly and put the fork down.

"Where's Daniel?" I ask, swallowing the last few bites.

He slides his sleeve up to look at his wristwatch. "Took you, what? Two minutes to ask? I feel like, as his friend and colleague, I ought to tell him exactly how excited his wifey-to-be is to see him."

"What are you talking about?" says the anger in my chest.

"As soon as Crowley woke up from being knocked out, your name was the first word out of his mouth, so I was really hoping for a Romeo and Juliet situation here, you know? Two lovers from opposing sides, fighting to stay together, even if it's in death. That would have been heartwarming."

"Daniel isn't on your side."

"Aw," he coos. "That's adorable, but yes. Yes, he is. How do you think he sent that transmission asking for you? You think we just let our captives run around the bunker?" He laughs to himself and pinches some rice between his fingers. "This isn't the Immortal." He dangles the rice over his mouth before dropping it in.