The Paths of Destiny
Reactivation

June 1, 2000:

I received a reactivation notification from the UNO in the mail today. Included with the letter, was a note with the familiar scrawl of my old CO and friend Ted Westbury. After I completed my hitch with the Peacekeepers I moved on — Ted stayed in, and later, made a lateral move to the United Nations Organization for Security, Peace and Justice, the investigative arm of the UNO. Ted and I have stayed in touch, and I’ve heard a great deal about his brief marriage with Dr. Samantha “Sami” Garrett. Ted and I have met infrequently, and I have never met Sami.

He wants me to keep my former UNO service quiet and keep an eye on a SEAL that’s supposed to be there. From the sound of it this SEAL, whoever he is, must be a loose cannon. Admittedly, a lot of SEALs can be loose cannons, but they keep themselves in check. If Ted’s this worried about a SEAL to warrant me keeping an eye on, then it sounds serious.

My superiors within the department weren’t surprised when I told them of my reactivation. They’d been notified already. Thus, I am on indefinite leave for the duration of my time with the UNO, effective immediately.

Before leaving, all my co-workers had a going away party for me. How they got all the decorations and everything set up in such a short time amazed me. What surprised me even more was the check that the department gave me to cover my bills in advance for the next year. I guess they forgot I still get royalties for all the books I’ve written.

When I told Jasmine about the letter, she said she knew it would happen. In fact, she pointedly reminded me about it when I first met her less than two years ago, in September of 1998. Funny, I don’t remember that. The way I remember it, she said I’d be continuing the family Legacy. Then again, maybe she did and this reactivation is part of it all. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the Find_Nøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Jasmine is the spirit of my great-great-grandmother, the Lady Jasmine, wife of Sir Roger Bixby, Earl of Flamstead and Maidstone. She first appeared the night I first put on my great-grandmother’s necklace, on the night I of my promotion to Detective within the Miami-Dade Police Department. Jasmine’s spirit became tied to the necklace and can appear when the necklace is held or worn. There is a caveat, however. For Jasmine to appear, the necklace must be worn or within a certain proximity of someone from her bloodline; in other words, only a descendant of Jasmine’s can use the necklace to bring her out.

I’m grateful for all Jasmine’s help with my investigations, regular and supernatural, since our first meeting. When she first helped me, it started out as being a cryptic word here and there to nudge me in the right direction. Sometimes she would speak while I was in the middle of a crowd, or with someone else; I had to be careful how I responded so no one would think I was crazy or anything like that.

Surveillance has been easy when I needed Jasmine’s help keeping an eye on a suspect or I needed to know the lay of the land; she’s literally my eyes and ears out in the field. I try my best not to rely on her too much, but if I didn’t know better, I’d swear she pouts when I ask her to let me do some of the work myself. To her credit if she pouts it isn’t for very long. Jasmine seems to enjoy lending a hand whenever I ask and with great enthusiasm, going merrily on her way almost before the words are out of my mouth. There have been times, more often than not, that she ventures forth before I even think of asking her.

So far, whenever I’ve asked Jasmine to recon an area where supernatural activity is reported to have occurred, she has had no problem. I dread the day she can’t enter an area I’ve indicated. It would have to be some powerful stuff to keep Jasmine out, I would imagine.

I’ve also noticed Jasmine gets a kick out of foiling a suspect’s attempt at a getaway; a stumble that lands the perp flat on his face, an invisible clothes’ line, a blown tire, or a suddenly dead engine. Nothing harmful.

One time we had a particularly elusive suspect to apprehend. He always was one step ahead of us. We took days before we tracked him down. Jasmine used all her tricks to stop him from getting away again. The perp didn’t miss a beat and he kept going. Finally, we chased him to the roof of a twenty-story building. By this time, Jasmine had had enough of the punk and took matters into her own hands. She popped right in front of him in all her ghostly beauty. I had just reached the roof when I saw Jasmine make her appearance. I had to admire the poor sap’s willpower. Instead of stopping scared in his tracks, he did an immediate ninety-degree turn and kept on running. One problem. Instead of a left flank, he did a right flank right off the roof. That’s when he screamed. The screaming stopped just as I reached the edge of the roof. I looked down expecting to see something that would be a blotter candidate. Instead, I saw a tearful and terrified Jasmine rising to the roof, tenderly cradling the poor man who had mercifully fainted.

Thankfully, we’ve never had another situation like that.

June 2, 2000:

I arrived in London this afternoon. I wanted to visit a recently discovered relative I have here in England, William Howell Bixby. Turns out, he’s the great-great-grandson of Jasmine and Sir Roger. Jasmine told me about him with great enthusiasm when I mentioned I’d be coming to London for my new assignment. It seems, Cousin William is the current Earl of Maidstone and Flamstead and the direct descendant of Sir Roger and Jasmine’s eldest son, Earl Robert Malcolm Bixby. He, meaning Cousin William, as Jasmine put it politely, tends to “play better with boys than girls.”

When I asked Jasmine what would happen to the family title if William died with no heirs, she said it’s possible I’d inherit it. I’m not sure if she was serious or not. But if it were true, that would make my life more interesting. With my luck, I’d wind up having all kinds of women sauntering up wanting to bed or wed me because I have a title. If the British government deems that Cousin William has no one to pass the title to, as Jasmine explained, it will become extinct. She didn’t sound too happy about that last part.

But I digress. As I mentioned earlier, I wanted to pay a visit to Cousin William, but when I tried to get in contact with him one of his servants informed me the Earl was on Holiday in Malta, and isn’t expected back for the next two months. I gave my name and cell phone number when asked if there were any messages. With my luck, the cute sounding servant tossed it out, thinking I was just another boy toy wanna be. I refrained from mentioning my relationship to the Earl. I don’t think they would believe me unless I have actual proof. Just as well, I’m too jet lagged to go out to the estate, anyway.

Note to self: Get documented proof of family ties to William. It may prove useful in the future.

Jasmine seems to be in a melancholy mood today. When I asked her what was wrong, she refused to answer. Whatever was bothering her, it distracted her enough to allow me to win all three games of chess. Ever since our first night, we have made it a daily ritual to play at least three games, at her request. Her reason, it would help keep the mind sharp. I find the reasoning to be quite sound. Normally, she gives me a run for my money when we play. Some games I barely squeak out a stalemate. But today, within the first ten moves or so, I checkmated her all three times.

I wonder if being back in England reminds her of her life with Sir Roger. I’d love to find someone local who would be able bring him to Jasmine. All attempts stateside have failed. It is probable that his shade is nowhere to be found. This is a disappointing thought since I’d like to meet him.

June 5, 2000:

Today was the first day of indoctrination with twenty of us in attendance. There is a quite an age range within the group. None of the students appears to be younger than thirty-one or older than fifty. Based on what I can see, whatever we will do requires people who have had practical experience in the world.

One thing I hadn’t expected was Ted’s ex, Dr. Samantha “Sami” Garrett. Turns out, she’ll be our instructor for the next six weeks.

Based on what I know, and what I’ve observed so far, Sami is all business. Born the day after Christmas in 1943, here in England, she is an Oxford Honors graduate, with a PhD. in Anthropology and Archaeology, class of 1970. Her brief marriage to Ted was a short and stormy one. After their divorce, Sami concentrated all her energies on her career, which has led her to her current position within the UNO. Since I already knew about her work history, prior to and after her marriage to Ted, her physical attributes, handsome for a lady in her late 50s, would still make any unsuspecting would be assailant underestimate her capabilities.

She gave me an odd look when it was my turn to answer why I came here for training instead of at the local branch in Miami. I told her the truth; that I received orders to be here. I didn’t mention the letter that Ted sent me. He said not to make any mention of my prior UNO service and since he used to be my CO, I couldn’t very well say “Oh, your ex said I had to be here.”

When Sami pulled me aside later, I said I got a letter ordering me to be here. I even showed her the envelope and ticket stubs, paid for by the UNO. She seemed satisfied with that. Something tells me she suspects my being here is for different reasons.

I wonder if Ted knew I’d be encountering her during my training. If so, is this his attempt at a joke at her expense if she ever finds out who I am? If that’s the case, it’s a very petty thing to do. I can believe many things about Ted, but being petty just seems too out of character for him.

I need to remember though, when I speak to her, to call her Dr. Garrett. Something such as, “Hey, Sami,” would not go well.

We had to sign a form saying we agreed not to make use of any firearms without authorization. Since I was already familiar with the British attitude of firearms from my visit to Singapore during my first two years of high school, I had no problem signing it. I left my sidearm back home in Miami, and I feel a little naked without it.

I wonder if they would have an issue with me using a hand-held crossbow?

We’re not allowed to leave campus without prior authorization. For the next six weeks, outside communication limited to a letter home once a week. However, during our training, our evenings after five and our weekends are ours to do with as we please.

The dorm is comfortable. There’s a twenty-four-hour kitchen. We’ve got a lounge with a TV and books to read. The computers in our rooms allow us to access the internet but only for research. The toilet and shower rooms are unisex, so unless the members of the opposite sex want to share, we must work out a schedule to allow everyone some modicum of privacy. Though, there’re a few women I’d not mind helping me wash my back; if the circumstances were different.

Jasmine’s mood has brightened since our arrival. While in class today, she was extolling the virtues of the physical appearance of some of my more attractive female classmates. I’m glad no one else could hear Jasmine’s happy, and quite explicit, chatter.

Her improved mood showed in her chess play. She beat me in all three games with gusto. I had to make her work for the wins though.

I know it’s odd to think of a spirit as a human being, but Jasmine once was a living creature; those habits don’t go away just because one’s no longer chained by the shackles of human flesh. Even in her present form of existence, my friend — yes, I consider Jasmine a friend — is so full of life and vigor, one cannot help but to think of her as human.

Sᴇarch the FindNovel.net website on G𝘰𝘰gle to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.