Seduction of the Senses - 7
When he paints again, the subject matter surprises him. It’s not the usual scene that he’s become accustomed to; instead, the Bennet family graces his canvas. Noah, Sandra, Claire, Lyle, and that ball of fluff Sandra insists is a dog are vividly painted, and are standing in front of a hotel sign. His telephone floats into his hand, and staring at the sign in the background, he calls the number listed on it.
“Hello, I need to make a reservation for one please, for Gabriel Suresh. Starting tomorrow, and for the next two weeks please.”
If they haven’t shown up by then, he’ll just have to extend his stay. However, he doubts it - something tells him that he’s going to be meeting up with the Bennets real soon.
- - - - - - - - - -
He’s got one of the prime lounge chairs out by the pool, the perfect spot to keep his eye on Claire. She’ll never see him; never see beyond his disguise and the book that he’s hiding behind. He takes another sip of soda, and discretely watches as Claire stretches and turns on her lounge chair, perfecting her tan and capturing everyone else’s attention in her eye-catching red bikini. The bikini surprises him - he would have been sure that Noah Bennet would never let little Claire-bear out of their hotel room in that particular piece of swimwear. He’s not complaining, of course, it’s just something unexpected and the unexpected disturbs him.
Closing his eyes for just a brief second, he starts his second illusion. A tall freckled red-headed teenager strolls out of the hotel lobby and almost immediately cannonballs into the pool, splashing Claire and several other sunbathers. Claire looks up for a second, rolls her eyes, and goes back to her reading. A brief smile crosses his lips as he marks that particular glamour off of his list - she’s obviously not attracted to that sort of boy.
While the redhead frolics in the pool, another illusion walks out of the men’s changing room. The muscular blonde joins the redhead and starts a game of Marco Polo, calling out loud enough to catch everyone’s attention. When she fails to look up from her book, a wave of super-chilled water droplets fly out of the pool and splash across her upper body. That catches her attention, and she can’t stop herself from crying out in surprise and jumping out of her chair. The blonde waves at her, and asks her to join them, but she ignores him, and after toweling off, Claire retakes her lounge chair.
Sylar smiles again as he wonders what type of boy will catch her eye. He’s still pondering his next move when he notices that Claire’s looking at the boy standing in front of the vending machines. The boy could be a younger version of himself - dark hair and pale skin, as awkward in his own skin as Gabriel was at that age. Maybe, just maybe, he won’t have to use a disguise to catch her. The thought intrigues him, and reinforces his previous idea that she was made for him, and he her.
- - - - - - - - - -
Noah watches the scene at the pool from the balcony of his hotel room, handgun in one hand and binoculars in the other.
“This is insane, Noah.” Sandra grumbles at him. “What do you think you’re up to?”
“Just watching the kids at the pool.” He doesn’t bother turning around to answer her.
She scoffs at him. “With a gun? Look at me, Noah.” The tone of her voice clues him into the fact that he doesn’t have any other option. “Now, tell me what’s going on.”
He sighs, but puts the gun down, making sure that it’s not too far away to grab in an instant. “It’s Sylar. Again.”
“Oh.” Sandra visibly deflates. “I thought he was dead.”
“I did too. He’s back, and I’m fairly certain he’s after Claire.” He scans the pool area again. There’s something not right about the situation, but he can’t put his finger on it. Every protective instinct he has is screaming at him that they’re in danger, but he can’t identify the source. “He was last spotted fairly close to home. I thought we could get away for a few days, until he strikes again. If he’s still close, then I’ll come up with a better plan. If he moves away or is seen on the other side of the country, it might be safe to go back. I might be wrong about all of this.”
Sandra reaches out and rubs his shoulders, and he leans into her touch, sighing. “Oh, honey, you’ve not been wrong about him yet. What are we going to do?”
“For now, we just need to keep an eye on Claire. I’m banking on the fact that he’s never done anything in broad daylight in a crowd. If we can keep her in the public eye during the day and safe with us at night, I’ll feel better.” He leans forward again, and grabs the binoculars.
“So that’s why you didn’t throw a fit over that so-called bathing suit. I wondered.” Sandra watches her husband as he scans the pool area again, back ramrod straight and shoulders tensed. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s just something… off… down there.” He hands the binoculars over to her. “You look, tell me if you see something that I’m missing.”
She shrugs, but doesn’t verbalize the fact that he’s trained to do this and she’s only good at housekeeping and dog breeding. Picking up the binoculars, she finds that it’s easy to spot Claire; she’s in the exact middle of the area, a bright beacon with her hair falling down around her shoulders and that red bathing suit. Sandra still doesn’t approve of that particular suit - in her view, it’s just a small step above obscene - but she at least understands why Noah subtly encouraged her to wear it. A group of boys are rough-housing in the pool, and Sandra notes that Lyle has joined that group and appears to be one of the ring leaders. The shallow end of the pool is occupied by small children and harried parents, a veritable sea of floats, life vests, and screaming infants. Teenaged girls and young women lie around the pool, coated in layers of SPF 20 or coconut oil, baking in the sun. Further back, closer to the shadows, older men and women lie about, either watching their kids in the pool or reading.
“Noah?” There’s something about that one old woman that sets her teeth on edge. “Did you see that one woman, the one in the purple muumuu?”
“Yeah, you saw her too then.” Noah doesn’t sound pleased. “What caught your eye?”
“Her book’s upside down and she appears to be staring right at Claire.”
“Damn. I’m not imaging it.”
- - - - - - - - - -
Even while he’s focused on watching Claire, he’s not entirely unaware of everything else around him. All the surrounding conversations filter through his conscious, and he’s aware that he’s been caught when Noah and Sandra begin discussing him. He doesn’t think that Noah will do anything, but discretion is the better part of valor, and he’s learned enough about her preferences that he can approach her now. Rather than blowing his cover entirely, though, he comes up with an alternate plan quickly. Standing slowly, making sure to act like an elderly woman, he gathers his things and makes his way to the side of the pool.
“Boys?” He calls out, making sure to mask his voice as well. “We need to go now.”
The redhead and the blonde look up at him, and frown. “But grandma…”
“No buts, come on.” He waits for his illusions to pull themselves out of the pool and grab their towels, and then he leads them back into the hotel. As soon as they’re out of sight, the boys fade back into nothingness, and he lets shakes off the illusion of the old woman. Making his way into the men’s bathroom, he locks the door, ensuring he has privacy as he sets up a new illusion. His reflection in the mirror shrinks just a few inches, until his new body is just short of six feet tall. His hair stays the same color, but grows just slightly longer. The well-defined muscles, evidence of his years of exercise and way of life, disappear and a new lanky frame emerges. His skin pales a few shades, until it’s the same sun-deprived shade of white that he’d perfected in high school. A few pimples pop out, just to make this teenage form a bit more believable. The biggest change is in his eyes; they’ve become a startling shade of blue, just like the waters off their beach house. The standard black jeans and wife beater fade into a bare chest and a pair of bright blue trunks that highlight the darkness of his hair and brilliance of his eyes. The hardest illusion to maintain is the easy-going smile and look of slight innocence and gullibility that mask his face.
Peering into the mirror, he makes sure everything’s perfect, and then unlocks the door, walking back out towards the pool. He looks around the pool area, acting like he doesn’t know what to do or where to go. Hesitantly, he makes his way over to the lounger next to Claire.
“Um… sorry to disturb you… is this chair taken?” Sylar tries to be as awkward and shy as he possibly can be, mentally channeling high school memories.
She doesn’t even look up. “Nope. All yours.”
Well, that didn’t go exactly according to plan, he thinks as he tries to find a comfortable position on the chair. Even though he appears to be shorter, he hasn’t actually shrunk, and his legs are a tad bit too long to fit on the chair without twisting into awkward positions. Quickly glancing over at Claire out of the corner of his eye, he determines what book she’s reading and pulls an exact replica out of his bag and starts pretending to read.
Even with all his maneuvering on the lounger, she still doesn’t look up. Sylar starts humming, just loudly enough to disturb the people around him, determined to make her interact with him. Claire still doesn’t respond, and when he looks over again, he sees that she’s pulled out her mp3 player. She can’t hear him; no wonder she’s not annoyed. The headphones die with just the slightly tweaking of their wiring via his telekinesis, and she sits up with a huff, trying to fiddle with the connection to get the sound back.
“Problems with your headphones? Maybe I can help.” He smiles shyly at her.
“Nah, I go through at least a pair every month. It was time for these to die.” She finally looks at him, and notices his book. “Oooh, I’m reading that one too!”
“Isn’t it great?” He mentally blesses his high school English teacher for making him read it. “I’m just amazed by the story.”
“I know. What’s your favorite part so far? Where are you in the book? Oh, by the way, I’m Claire.” She beams at him, and he knows he’s in now.
“Andrew, but you can call my Andy.” Really, it’s not that much different than his Drew alias.
- - - - - - - - - -
It’s fascinating to watch the Bennets at supper. They’re laughing, and sharing food back and forth, and in general, acting in a completely opposite way of what he grew up with. The hotel restaurant is completely packed; everyone at the resort decided to eat there that night, it seems. He sees a small table for two right next to the Bennet table, and he gets the maître d’ to seat him there. He’s just settled into his chair when Claire spots him.
“Andy!” she calls out, and he looks up like he hadn’t even noticed her there.
He gets out of his chair and walks over to their table. “Hi again.” He makes eye contact with Noah, and introduces himself. “I’m Andy, and you must be Claire’s family. It’s such a pleasure to meet you.”
“Well aren’t you polite,” Sandra smiles at him, “it’s a pleasure to meet you too. I’m Sandra, and this is my husband Noah and our son Lyle. It looks like you already know our Claire.” She looks over at his table. “Are your mom or dad running late?”
He looks away for just a second, just long enough to give the right impression, and when he looks back, there’s a sad smile on his face. “Just me tonight. My dad and new step-mom dragged me along on their honeymoon, didn’t want to leave me alone at home, but I haven’t seen them since we got here.”
Sandra falls for it, hook, line, and sinker. “Oh, you poor boy. Now, you’ve just got to sit with us. I won’t take no for an answer. Here, sit in between Claire and me.”
“I can’t, Mrs. Bennet. I just can’t intrude like this.”
She motions over the waiter, and tells him to set an extra place at their table. “You don’t get a say in this, Andy.”
He does his best to hide his smirk at he takes a place at the family table, but Noah catches it anyhow.
- - - - - - - - - -
“Why did you tell him who we are, Claire? You know better than to give out first and last names.” Noah takes off his glasses, trying to massage out the growing tension in his temples. Supper had taken longer than usual, and the headache got worse every time he looked at that Andy kid sitting in between his wife and daughter. There was something about him that was just so familiar, but he just couldn’t place it.
“I didn’t. I just told him my first name.” Claire frowns as she remembers how he’d addressed her mom as Mrs. Bennet. “I have no clue how he knew.”
“Are you positive that you didn’t slip up?”
“Maybe Lyle told him. Or… we were discussing a book, maybe he saw my name on the inside cover.” Claire bites her lip, trying to remember if there was anything that had given them away.
“Bring me that book.” Noah doesn’t like this, not one little bit. Claire pulls the book out of her tote bag, and hands it to him. There’s no name written on either the front or back covers. She hadn’t written anything on the spine, and there’s nothing written on the inside cover. He flips through the pages, and finds nothing. “It’s clean.”
“Then how did he know?”
Father and daughter look at each other for a minute. Noah puts his glasses back on and stands from his spot on the couch. “Ok, gang, pack it up. We’re leaving.”
“Dad! No fair!” Lyle whines, not looking away from the TV.
“Sorry, kiddo. We’ve got to leave - quickly. Grab your stuff, toss it in a suitcase. Pack everything you can get your hands on, we’ll sort it out later.”
Leaving Claire and Lyle to packing, Noah walks into the bathroom where Sandra’s taking her shower. He calls out, loud enough to be heard over the water. “Sandra? Know what we were talking about earlier? I think he’s here - hurry it up, we’re leaving as soon as you get out of the shower.”
It ends up being the quickest shower she’s ever taken in her entire life.
- - - - - - - - - -
Invisible in the shadows, Sylar almost cackles as he watches the Bennets throwing suitcases into their car, looking around them furtively, like they expect the boogeyman to attack them right there in the hotel parking lot. Noah had fallen for his feint at supper just as expected, and reacted in his predictable manner. While the family’s fighting with the luggage, he crawls into the van via the open doors, settling into the very back row.
The back gate slams and the family jumps into the van, settling into their usual positions, Noah and Sandra in the front with Claire and Lyle sharing the first backseat bench. As soon as the doors are closed, Sandra lets go of the dog - Mr. Muggles, if he remembers correctly - and Noah cranks the car. Sylar reads their thoughts; they think they’ve made a clean getaway. He wants to laugh again, but he bites his tongue. It wouldn’t do to give away his presence now.
- - - - - - - - - -
Twenty miles later, and Mr. Muggles has come to the very back of the van exploring. Finding a new scent, he excitedly calls out to Sandra.
“Hush, Muggles.” Noah calls out. “It’s a car ride. We’ve done this before.”
Mr. Muggles yaps again, trying to get the family’s attention, as he sniffs what smells like a man in the back seat.
“Now, Mr. Muggles, ookums-snookums, stop that.” Sandra says firmly.
An invisible hand reaches out and pets him around the ears, and he yips in contentment.
“Muggles, stop it!”
The hand finds that itchy spot on his back, and if he was a cat, he’d purr in contentment. Instead, he gives a sloppy lick in the direction he thinks the hand is, and closes his eyes. If the family didn’t care that an invisible stranger was in the car with them, then he wasn't going to care either.
Chapter 8