Immortality

Chapter Ten - A Daughter of Suffering

Chapter Ten - Author's note: Okay, so as I have mentioned in various messages, I am holding a fanfiction competition (with prizes!) for those who write a fic about Inamorata/Immortality. Interested? All the information is on my profile in a story titled The (Great) Inamorata Fanfic Competition! Here is a link to the info: http://www.wattpad.com/68889670-the-great-inamorata-fanfic-competition I would love it if I got hundreds of fics! Ask me if you have any questions.

Nightingale, despite the length of time Detective McCrae had been explaining the case - in all its intimate detail - did not find her mind wandering. She was as keenly focused at that moment as she had been at the beginning. Leaning forward with her forearms resting on the table, her eyes fixed on Detective McCrae, she listened intently.

"Amartya will be your handler, Agent Brightley," Detective McCrae explained, waving his hand toward Agent Rasal. His warm eyes caught hers and he inclined his head in what looked like modest deference. "He's the one who's the handler for the asset who can set him up undercover as an Inamorata dealer. A contact within the black market."

"And what contact is that?" asked Nightingale. She'd had experience in the past with enemies turned friends in the service of a case. Hank was a testament to that.

"I have no idea, actually," said Agent Rasal. He had supplied information several times before this point but once again Nightingale admired the smooth lilt of his voice in comparison to Detective McCrae's rougher rasp. "Calls himself Renatus. We communicate through coded messages. Handwritten. Very secretive. He could be anyone within the business, but he must have at least some sway with the triumvirate because he arranged for me to meet them."

"So this mole has given you a cover?" It was Caroline who spoke this time, and Agent Rasal acknowledged three people this time when he replied - Nightingale, to whom he spoke directly, Caroline, who had posed the question, and David, whose face Nightingale could not see.

"Yes," he said. He inclined his head again. "And I've been working for the past year on creating a new identity that will hold up to scrutiny if they inspect it. I'll be posing as Arun Tijare, salesman in illegal Inamoratas."

"And I'll be a Nightingale copy?" asked Nightingale. She flinched nearly imperceptibly when she said it and hated herself for that. David's hand, which was lying by hers, brushed her skin for the briefest of moments.

"Yes. The best one. When they get a look at you they won't be able to resist you."

The offhanded manner with which Agent Rasal said it - took for granted that she would simply once again become the whore that everyone had liked so much - made the bile rise in Nightingale's throat. She clenched her teeth against it before she spoke.

"What if I'm too convincing and they suspect me of being the real Nightingale?"

"That's where Sorcha comes in," said Agent Rasal, gesturing to the woman who was currently sitting with both hands folded before her on the table, staring intently at Nightingale. When Nightingale saw that her own position was precisely the same, she immediately shifted. "She's a chameleon with a specialty in mimicry."

Nightingale lifted her gaze to meet the searching one of Agent Brennan and found the woman staring back at her. "So she'll-"

"Pose as you, Agent Brightley," said Agent Brennan. It was the first time Nightingale had heard her voice. It was a handsome thing, but with an odd cadence. Her accent was impossible to trace. "I will need to spend some time studying you."

"And you'll then be able to convincingly pass yourself off as me?" said Nightingale, trying to keep the fact that she was scoffing at Agent Brennan hidden. "There's a resemblance between us, but you're not-"