Original Grace – Look Inside

“You’re not talking me out of this, Lukkas!” Grace shouted in exasperation after having made her intentions clear for the tenth time.

“Why do you have to do this now, and why do you think you have to do it alone? I don’t want you out there on your own. It’s too dangerous,” Lukkas snapped back.

“Seriously? Too dangerous for me? Are you afraid if I find them, I won’t come back?”

“Do you really think I don’t want you to figure out who’s looking for you? I am the only one who has helped you! Maybe when you finally know what happened, we can have a normal life!”

“Normal? How could you ever consider our life normal?” Grace sighed and walked across the large bright bedroom to Lukkas, placing her hand on his arm. The patio doors behind her were open, letting the breeze lift the sheer white curtains, creating an illusion of wings. She reached out her other hand to stroke his cheek with the back of her fingers and spoke softly.

“I know you’re afraid and I’m scared too, but I have to do this, and you know I have to do it alone,” she said. Her forehead wrinkled with worry.

Lukkas sighed, and Grace lowered her hand to pat his chest. “We’ll talk more after I get cleaned up.” She looked up at him before turning away. “The west field was tough today. I forgot how much work it is to prepare the vines for winter.”

She grabbed a clean towel and headed for the shower. Stopping in the doorway, Grace turned back to Lukkas with an encouraging smile. “Can you have Mrs. B. send up dinner tonight? I’d like to set up on the patio and finish this conversation in private. No need to involve the family until we agree on how I’m going to handle this.” Ever the peacemaker, it wasn’t in her character to leave a conversation on poor terms. In her experience, fate didn’t always allow one to make up for harsh words.

Lukkas raised his hands in a gesture of surrender and backed out of the room. “I doubt we’ll agree on anything, but at least we can enjoy one last meal before you disappear again.” Disappointment permeated his voice as he shook his head at her.

He continued his retreat, closing the massive wooden doors to Grace’s room behind him. Lowering his head in defeat, he proceeded down the hallway toward the open balcony on the second floor. On the way, he passed another set of double doors to his own room on the left. There was something different about today that made the hallway feel longer than usual.

When he reached the last door of the wing containing his office, tension built in his neck. Lukkas let out another deep sigh before reaching the grand staircase on his right. The breathtaking view from the foyer balcony greeted him with the soothing warmth he needed. The entrance hall jutted out from the south side of the building in a semicircle, with windows covering the entire top of the curve. Lukkas could feel the sun on the right side of his face as he looked out over the fields to the south and west. A view like that made it impossible to be tense. His body sagged against the railing while he unwound his feelings.

The early autumn view of the land his brother persuaded him to purchase calmed him. This was becoming one of the best vineyards around the city of Kelowna. Rows of vines becoming dormant stretched over rolling hills to the mountain bases in the distance. The vineyard sat on the edge of the Okanagan Valley, with mountain views on every horizon. Lukkas would never have considered a vineyard in Canada. Italy or California would have been his preference, but this was better than either. More land, fewer people; it was ideal for their small clan.

He lost track of how long he had been standing there when his peaceful sunset was interrupted by his youngest niece, Asta, and her Uncle Vito—her mother’s brother, not his. Vito was a great guy and all, fiercely loyal to his family, but too loud and conspicuous for Lukkas’s taste. Vito was the guy you noticed in a room while Lukkas was the guy who hung in the back, observing everything.

The pair blew into the main hall, just under the staircase, engaging in an extremely lively debate, not noticing Lukkas on the upper balcony. They were both loud and animated speakers. The image of Vito, with his thick Italian accent, waving his hands with every word and Asta making surgically precise gestures to Vito’s exaggerated ones was a comic experience. Vito was a towering man, standing tall and thick as a tree, with darkly tanned skin and coal-black hair. Asta was barely a slip, slender and gangly with bleached blonde hair and the bright blue eyes of youth, coming in at less than half her debate partner’s weight. It was apparent they had just returned from thinning the west fields. Both still wore dusty shoes, and one of Asta’s hands clutched an oversized sun hat and gloves. With her other hand, she was attempting to unravel a thick tangled tie from her unruly hair. They were both laughing and jabbering back and forth in a maddening mix of Italian and English, far too quickly for Lukkas to keep up.

“What the hell are you two arguing about?” Lukkas shouted at them.

“Hey, Uncle Luke. We’re discussing medieval folklore and the differences with the way vampires, werewolves, and other creatures are depicted in movies and TV. It’s outrageous that people think a cross or holy water will do anything to a vampire, isn’t it? Does no one ever consider that they are anything other than Christian? Do they think there aren’t any Buddhist or Hindu or even pagan vampires? Vito thinks that most of this stuff was made up because the religious leaders of the time were trying to instill fear, making people think they would be safer if they were Christians. They wanted people to believe that they were the only religion that could defeat what they said were monsters to be afraid of. What do you believe in?” Asta put her hand on her hip after finally taking a breath.

“I believe you finished your sentence with a preposition.”

Vito chuckled at Lukkas’s remark.

“I don’t find that particularly funny. If you didn’t want to give me your opinion, you could have just said so.” Asta pouted childishly, cutting her eyes at him.

“Asta, stop listening to campfire stories and grossly misrepresented mythology. No one’s skewed opinion should matter more than the facts, and you shouldn’t rely on the romantic imaginings of unrealistic human beings who fantasize about being immortal. I will not let you draw me into this debate. Good luck to both of you, especially when Mrs. B. sees what you’ve done to her clean floor.” Lukkas descended the stairs, chuckling to himself, turning right past the two verbal combatants and down the back hall to the kitchen. As he moved further away, he could hear Asta throwing a few Italian curses at his back along with some other non-lethal words mixed in that he couldn’t quite make out. He smiled at the thought of working her up into a fervor that would surely last for several days. She was not the type to let things go once she dug into them. He was glad to be having dinner with Grace upstairs tonight rather than continue this never-ending conversation. He also didn’t want anyone to see how worried he was.

As he made his way down the hall, he could hear soft rock music playing below the clatter of metal utensils. The commercial-grade kitchen took up most of the first floor in the north wing. It was the only room on the estate that was modern, and they had remodeled it to perfection. At least that’s what Grace kept telling him. Personally, the sleekness of modern styles made him a little uncomfortable. The one thing he did appreciate in this design was that they kept the gas appliances. Cooking without an open flame wasn’t really cooking at all, as far as he was concerned.

He carefully made his way between the huge gas cooktop in the center island, which held a six-burner grill and rotisserie, and the two large ovens on the wall perpendicular to the door.

The sun was slowly dipping below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow across the oversized marble island. The open folding wall allowed a cool breeze to waft into the room, carrying the green scent of freshly cut vines, mingling with the deep notes of roast pork Mrs. B. was braising on the rotisserie while swaying to the music.

Lukkas slid out the last barstool at the end of the counter, closest to the open wall, and reached for a large stemmed glass hanging in the rack above his head.

“Evening, Mrs. B. Beautiful sunset out there, isn’t it?” Lukkas glanced back over his shoulder at the opening behind him.

“It certainly is, Lukkas. White or red?” she asked, pointing at his glass.

“Dealer’s choice, my lady. What are you having?” Lukkas answered, giving an overly animated bow to the woman before he sat.

“I’m having last year’s Pinot Grigio brought up from the cellars this morning. It’s a little more citrus than I normally enjoy, so you should appreciate it.”

“Sounds perfect.” Lukkas accepted her recommendation.

Mrs. B. was an incredible find in a place like this. She had worked in local vineyards all her life, and she also ran a tight ship with the house staff. It had been more than a decade since she retired from the fields, but she knew her grapes and loved being able to stay around the vines. There was no one they could have trusted more to run the household for the family, and she was worth her weight in gold.

“Would you mind having one of the staff set up dinner for me and Grace on her terrace tonight? She’s leaving on another trip tomorrow, and we need to discuss some things without the rest of the family around.”

“That woman has given me most of these gray hairs,” she said, pointing to the top of her head.

Lukkas could clearly see thin streaks of silvery gray intertwined with her natural deep red.

“What’s the mission this time?” she asked, grimacing with a mixture of annoyance and concern.

“Something I don’t like one bit,” he replied with a dire glance.

“I’ll be glad when she stops looking.”

“I’m sure you’ll be dead long before that.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” Mrs. B. gave a hearty snort and turned back to the stove. “I’ll send up a bottle of the Pinot with dinner. Maybe you can get her to say yes, this time.”

“I’ve asked her a thousand times, and she’s never said yes.”

“Well, she’s never left you, either. At least you know she’s not in it for the money.”

Lukkas chuckled, “You’d better send up two bottles then. It’s going to be a long night.”

He topped off his glass and headed for his room to shower before dinner. As he passed his office, he stopped for a moment to grab a folder from his desk. The atmosphere of the office was rich and dark, with a heavily carved wooden desk at the back of the room near thickly draped windows. It smelled of aged mahogany with a hint of lemon oil. Usually, the soothing, cave-like feel of the dim space comforted him. Tonight, with the file in his hand, the room was stifling. He needed to review the information before showing it to Grace. He had to make sure that everything was as it seemed. Glancing through the file satisfied him that nothing had changed since the last dozen times he had looked at it. With a decisive nod, he snapped the folder shut and headed down the hall.

His bedroom was just the way he left it. Housekeepers were a wonderful luxury, but he never felt right allowing someone else to clean up after him. He didn’t work the land like the rest of the family and often felt he didn’t contribute as much. Managing the money was where his expertise lay. He sold the wines, arranged the tours and tastings for prominent clients, and made sure the portfolio was always in the black.

By leveraging the family’s extensive wealth, he was able to establish connections with individuals of questionable character, ultimately obtaining the information that would completely upend their lives. Looking back, he wished he had never told her what he had found, but it was too late for that.

He took a big gulp of wine and climbed into the shower, hoping to wash away an ominous feeling that had enveloped him.

~~~~

The evening was crisp and cool enough for a thick sweater. Grace enjoyed eating on the terrace under the stars. It was peaceful and could be romantic, although she didn’t think this particular evening would end in romance. Lukkas hadn’t arrived yet. The man was late for everything. Sometimes she thought he enjoyed making everyone wait for him. While she sat contemplating the possibility of life in a far-off universe, Grace poured herself a glass of wine. There was a knock at the door, jolting her out of her head. Before she could answer, Lukkas burst through with a huge smile on his face. He was physically attractive, but it was his confidence that made him irresistible. It permeated the room when he entered. His ash-blond hair was still damp, with strands clinging to the sides of his neck. He wore a thin deep-blue sweater that matched his eyes, and pulled slightly taut over his chest and arms. Maybe this night could have some romance after all, she thought. She couldn’t resist matching his smile with her own.

Lukkas walked across the room, dropping a folder on her desk without breaking stride, continued onto the terrace, and ended with his arm around her waist. He took the glass from her hand and sipped it before giving her a playful kiss on the lips, letting her take in the inviting scent of his sandalwood soap. She snatched the glass back and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before spinning out of his grasp with an impish smile grazing her lips. She set her glass down on the table and poured Lukkas one of his own. “Glad you could make it.”

“Have I ever passed up a chance to spend time with you?” he asked as he grasped her hand and kissed the back of it. “You know there is only one thing I would ever want to change about us, but you keep telling me no.”

“I already adopted your surname.”

“That was convenience. You didn’t have one.”

Grace’s entire demeanor collapsed. “I don’t need a ceremony or any of that sentimental, archaic stuff. It’s not my intention to change who we are. Your family accepts me without ceremony, and it’s not like we don’t already sleep together. If you move into my room, we will never have to be apart.”

“You mean except for the times when you go on your missions?” Lukkas sounded playful, but Grace detected resentment.

“Or the times you go on your business trips?” Grace bit back, matching his tone. “I don’t want to change you, so why do you feel the need to change me? No matter how long we’re apart, we inevitably end up together.”

“I guess I’m a traditionalist. I just want us to be happy.”

“We are happy,” she sighed and smiled.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, kissing the top of her head. “You’re right, we are happy. When you get back, if you still want me to move in here, I’ll think about it.”

It seemed to be all the commitment she was going to get from him.

“Well, that only took seven hundred years of convincing,” she said in a sarcastic tone.

“That doesn’t say much for your powers of persuasion.” He laughed and ducked from the napkin she threw at his head.

Dinner had finally arrived, and she was starving. The aroma rising from the plate was tantalizing. Lukkas turned to the young man who had brought up the food. “Thank your mother for us and tell her not to wait for the dishes; we’ll make sure they get to the kitchen before breakfast. Have a good night.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Luke. You have a good night too. Is there anything else you need before we go down to the house?”

“No thanks, Billy,” Grace added. “Make sure you take the blue golf cart tonight. The battery on the yellow one died earlier, and I don’t think it will have charged yet.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Billy said, pulling the doors behind him as he spoke.

“Okay, Gracie, explain to me again why you feel compelled to find these people who dumped you in the middle of nowhere with no memory.”

“Don’t call me Gracie. You know I hate it,” she growled at him as she sat back, taking a sip of her wine. “You know, it’s a lot more complicated than that. They’re looking for me, and we don’t know if they’re the same ones who dumped me or not. What we do know is that if they are looking for me, they know something about me. I have to go to them to keep you all out of it. I don’t want them to track me here. I won’t risk losing everything we’ve worked for or endanger the family.”

“Won’t you at least consider letting me come with you?”

“Absolutely not. You are recognizable, which means you are traceable. If they see you, they’ll make their way back here, which is exactly what I want to prevent. They are looking for me for a reason; I don’t think they want to hurt me. I think they need something from me.”

“How can you know that? I should tie you up and lock you away in a safe place.”

“As appealing as that sounds, you realize that I’m the one with the knife in my hand.”

“You couldn’t hurt me,” he said, feigning injury.

“Couldn’t and wouldn’t are two different things,” she scoffed, waving the knife in his direction with an evil little half smile.

“I surrender. Since you’re so set on it, let’s figure out how to get you in and out in the safest possible manner. Finish up; I have some things to show you.”

Once they finished eating, they topped up their wine glasses and went to the desk inside the terrace doors. Lukkas opened the folder he had left earlier.

“Let’s look at some of the major players first. This guy is in charge, Ben Olsen.” Lukkas took the first photo from a stack and laid it on the desk in front of Grace. “We don’t have much information on him. Until last year, he didn’t appear to have existed. He’s definitely military trained.”

Grace looked at his picture. Ben was muscular and tall, though not as tall as Vito, with medium-length, wavy dark hair that touched his shoulders. There were several visible tattoos, but from the quality of the photo, it was not clear what they were. She couldn’t see much of his face, but somehow, he looked familiar. He resembled a guy from one of those Viking/barbarian TV shows. How does someone like that not show up on anyone’s radar before now?

Lukkas continued, “He speaks several languages and hasn’t shown any violent tendencies. At least none that we’ve received reports of. The next three guys are former military, all with elite forces from different European countries. One of them always travels with Ben, but all three usually do. They are all the same age, born on the same day to different families in different countries, but they look identical, possibly altered by plastic surgery. Their names are Alex Johnson, Erik Johnson, and Michael Johnson.”

Grace slowly collected the picture. She could discern differences between them, but she didn’t want to give Lukkas any indication that they looked familiar. Her eyes fixated on the photo giving her a sense of déjà vu. She remained silent, unwilling to alarm him into shutting the whole thing down. Some indistinct feeling was telling her that these men were her sons. Names flashed in her mind as her stomach sank—Aleksander, Erik, and Mikkel. Her head was spinning as their names swirled around in the distance like a tornado that hadn’t reached the ground. Dizziness clouded her thoughts, and she felt like she was going to pass out. Her stomach clenched tight. She had no idea how she knew they were her sons, but she felt it scratching somewhere deep in her memory, pushing to get out.

Even through the black and white of the photo, she knew in person they would have her distinct green eye color. The photo showed them to be in their twenties, although looks could be deceiving in her world. She turned her back on Lukkas and walked over to the chair on the other side of the desk, hoping to get there before her knees buckled. Grasping the photo, she traced her fingers over their faces and sat down as her legs gave way.

“Hmm, this is unusual,” she managed to say in a manner that was surprisingly nonchalant. “Maybe they were adopted?” She phrased it as a question so that he would think she was looking for options to his plastic surgery theory. It took intense concentration to keep her breathing and heart rate under control. Fortunately, Lukkas was too preoccupied with his conspiracy theories to pay her any attention.

“Well, that would be a twist, placing them in different countries. Leading them to elite forces and managing to put them in the same task force/secret unit. Maybe they’re clones. Could be more of them,” Lukkas offered excitedly. Cloning had only recently become plausible, but since he was heavily invested in science fiction, in his mind, it was a practical answer.

“Or …” She looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “They have fake papers?”

“Well, yeah … or that.” Lukkas’s words dripped with disappointment.

“Who’s next?” Grace asked, placing the photo on the table, increasing the distance between it and the gnawing in her mind. She had to get away from the subject of the three young men, or Lukkas would start asking her questions she couldn’t and didn’t want to answer.

The two of them went through photos of people Lukkas’s sources called sentinels. There were various people of all ages and backgrounds who observed without interfering. They were simple intelligence gatherers of little importance to her. Grace had seen a few of them over the years, but she didn’t know if they were watching her specifically, or if they were monitoring some events she was involved with. Either way, she was sure their reporting was how she had gotten on Ben Olsen’s radar.

Lukkas handed Grace the last piece of paper in the folder. “There’s no picture of the last person on the list. They call her the Keeper. She is also known by the name Seshet and seems to be the organizer of the group. We don’t know if she is the only Keeper, if there are others, or if her name is what they call all Keepers. We have found Seshet in texts dating back to ancient Egypt, so our informant tends to think it is more of a title than a name. As far as we know, she has never been seen or photographed.”

“So, how do I contact them?”

“We don’t know where their specific location is, only a general geographical area. What we do know is that most of them have been seen, often in small groups, at a coffee shop in Helena, Montana. They appear to be communicating with one particular barista.” He fished out a picture from the stack they had already discarded.

“Maybe they just really like coffee. Doesn’t mean he knows who they are or how to contact them. It’s not unusual that if you want to order a coffee, you talk to the person behind the counter. All you can conclude is that it is an occasional gathering point, and he works a lot. Whenever I go to Tokyo, I visit the Skytree. Would you assume I live in Tokyo?”

Lukkas bristled at the dismissal of his theory. “Throughout the day he makes calls from a pay phone in the mall even though he has a cell phone.”

“Sounds like he could have a gambling problem,” Grace retorted.

Lukkas continued, undeterred. “What you need to do is order a coffee and tell him you’re there to see Ben. If he doesn’t know anything, you’ll get a long trip and a cup of mediocre coffee. If he does know something, you’ll find out pretty quickly.”

“Sounds like a plan. Do you have open surveillance?” she asked. Not that she was endorsing his theory; she had simply become tired of challenging it. A lot of effort had gone into gathering this information and the least she could do was follow the lead until it went dry.

“Yes, we’re tapped into local street cams, mall security, and the security cameras in the coffee shop itself. We’ll be able to monitor you from anywhere.”

“Whatever happens, promise me you won’t interfere. If I have to, I can get out on my own,” she said, not waiting for him to answer. “How do I get in and where is the exit?”

“I’ve set you up as a crew member on a plane to Helena, shipping in aircraft parts. You’ll meet your contact at a restaurant in that mall on the other side of town,” he said, pointing to an area on the city map. “Change clothes, exchange credentials, then she’ll come back here, and you’ll go to your destination.”

“Who’s my contact?”

“Violet.”

“So, I’ll wear platform boots and she’ll stuff her bra.”

“Yeah, sounds right,” he chuckled. “She’s happy to be home for a few days and she isn’t due back at the Napa office for another week, so they won’t even miss her.”

“What time is the flight?” Grace asked. It was already after eleven. The drive would be about four hours and crew check-in was an hour earlier, so she didn’t think she’d be sleeping tonight.

“Departure time is six in the morning, so you have two hours before we leave.”

Grace grinned at Lukkas. “I’ve already packed a bag. What else can we do for the next two hours?”