Cara Mia - Book One of the Immortyl Revolution

by Denise Verrico

Hated the place. Dark, grim, thoroughly Dickensian. All massive dark mahogany and stiff horsehair in muddy colors, overly embellished. As Ethan closed heavy oak shutters and velvet drapes, the realization I’d never walk in the sun again came over me. Rushing to the door, I flung it open. He caught me and held me tightly as I struggled, beating my wings against the cage.

  “We must stay indoors when the sun rises.”

  “I can’t be shut up! I’ll die if I go into one of those things!”

  He shook with laughter as he realized what I was referring to. “We don’t sleep in coffins, you goose.”

  A strange numbness settled over me. “What will the sun do to us?”

  “An agonizing death that unleashes a cancer and rots away your flesh.”

  “What about stakes through the heart?”

  “Why these morbid questions, cara mia? You needn’t worry about anything, my precious girl. I’ll protect you always.”

  “From what?”

  He chuckled, and set me down, locking various bolts and locks around the room with a key he placed safely into his pocket. Then he led me upstairs to a vast bed. I undressed and he tucked me in with a kiss. “Sweet dreams.” He turned to leave. “I have telephone calls to make. I’ll be in directly. Sleep well, my love.”

  I was exhausted but still uncertain and apprehensive. I tossed and turned, but sleep soon got the better of me.

  All at once, the shutters blew open and I was surrounded by a swirling snowstorm, blinded, cold and naked. Where was Ethan? Snow was filling the room and the sun would get me! I called out for him but he didn’t answer. Then a tall figure with long, pale hair emerged from the snow, with arms extended, saying, “Who will go with him?” I cowered on the bed and screamed, as he reached out to take me by the throat.

  “Mia, my darling? What’s wrong?”

  My eyes opened on Ethan, lying nude next to me in the bed. It was just a dream.

  “A nightmare— is it nighttime again already?”

  “Come see the change!”

  He took my hands and led me over to the tall cheval mirror.

  My eyes were brighter, my hair more lustrous and my skin very pale, but otherwise, I looked much the same. “We cast a reflection?”

  “You’re no ghoul. You are reborn! Everything lost in man’s ascent is restored, animal powers, coupled with heightened awareness and understanding. Your immune system is enhanced to the point where all diseases are rendered harmless. Your body is capable of healing serious wounds in a relatively short time. You are stronger, faster and have superior powers of hearing, scent and sight.”

  “Like Superman?”

  He was delighted. “You’ve read of Nietzsche’s Ubermensch?”

  “No— the comic book hero— the one in the red cape?”

  He frowned as he preened in the mirror. “I’m afraid I’m ignorant of this paragon.”

  “Actually, you kinda look like him.”

  Ethan placed my hands on the naked expanse of his chest, over his beating heart. The blood running through his body lulled me into a semi-hypnotic state as he spoke. “We’re flesh and blood, whatever the legends say, a highly specialized predatory animal, with an intellect and capacity to love and desire as a human being, but superior to them in every way. A Superman if you will.”

  A chill ran through me. Images of torch light parades, swastikas and pathetic corpses stacked in pits of lime flashed through my brain. I was about to protest when horrible throbbing started in my head and my body was suddenly racked. Even the abortion hadn’t hurt this much.

  I cried, clutching him. “Ethan! What’s the matter? What’s this pain?”

  “Hunger,” he told me simply. “You must feed.”

  That’s it! Joe thought. Pain drove her to appease this monster invading her body. It caused her intense physical distress, propelling her to take human life without a thought. “It’s an intense physical urge, painful? When does this usually start?”

  “A week or so after I’ve completely fed, I feel a twinge.” Suddenly she took to her feet. “You really don’t give a shit about me, do you?”

  Joe sat up and snapped his notebook shut. “What?”

  Sparks ignited in her eyes. “Asking you a question, this is the time for questions?”

  “I’m supposed to ask you questions.”

  “Hardly seems fair.”

  “Your question sounded a hell of a lot like an accusation.” He stood up, holding his hands out before her. “Without you Mia, there’s no project. You’re the key to the door to immortality.”

  “The child I aborted was immortality.”

  “That’s not what we’re here to discuss.”

  Her voice hit a dangerously low note, “Get the fuck out.”

  “No.” Joe stood his ground awaiting attack as sweat beaded alarmingly on his forehead. She crouched on the chair, a bobcat ready to pounce. Instinct told him to show no fear. It turned out to be the best course of action.

  She suddenly shrugged, as if killing him wasn’t worth the trouble, and sank back down into the chair. “You’re just as much of a monster as I am. Just look around you— at the bestiality of the human race.”

  “That’s what you see.”

  “Until you convince me otherwise— get out— I’m sick of you poking around in my soul! Fucking men, always trying to penetrate me in one way or another… ”

  “Then why are you here exactly, Mia?”

  She threw her head back, laughing like Garbo. “I want to walk in the sun, and laugh as the old demons destruct all around me.”

  “Don’t bullshit me.”

  She merely shook her head. Disgusted, Joe packed up his bag to leave. She crossed the room to the desk, opening the drawer and took out an envelope, extending it imperiously toward him. Annoyed, Joe took it and left, making his way to Kurt’s cell.

  Kurt’s small figure stood before the immense piano, not playing it, just staring at his hands on the keys. He looked as if he had just came from the shower, in jeans but shirtless, hair a mass of damp ringlets, the scent of herbal soap clinging to him, skin flushed. Once again, the light was dim, casting long Citizen Kane-like shadows across the room. Joe cleared his throat. “I’m not disturbing you?”

  Kurt looked up. “What can I do for you, Doctor?”

  “A letter for you.”

  The vampire approached, fluidly with dignified grace, distant and cool in manner. Joe towered over him, but it still didn’t make him feel any safer.

  Kurt extended his hand languidly for the letter. As he did, Joe saw in a flash something that made his skin crawl. There on the paleness of Kurt’s slender forearm were numbers tattooed in blue ink. Joe couldn’t help but gawk.

  “Why do you stare?” Kurt snapped.

  “I had no idea… ”

  “Well, now you know.”

  “You must’ve been just a kid.”

  Kurt’s voice grew hard-edged, as he turned away and reached for his shirt, “One grows up fast.”

  Joe suspected Kurt had a history, but this wasn’t quite what he’d imagined. In a concentration camp— and for how long before this happened to him? It explained the frail appearance he’d carry with him for eternity. What complicated memories motivated him? What demons haunted him and did he wear them tattooed on his brain like the horrifying numbers on his skin?

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t need your pity.”

  “I expect you don’t.”

  “Mia will fill you in.” Kurt began to button his shirt.

  “I need you to answer a question for me. She’s driven me crazy with it.”

  Kurt looked up at him, white face frozen into a polite mask. “Mia may be often infuriating, but never dull.”

  “She says she sees certain… potential in me. Can you see it, too?”

  Kurt looked deeply into Joe’s eyes, and then abruptly pushed up the cuff of his shirt. “You saw this?”

  The inky blue numbers stood out in sharp contrast to the vampir
e’s white skin.

  “Yes,” he answered, not really wanting to meet Kurt’s eyes. Another level of tension zapped their encounter, as a long-buried ancestral demon raised its head.

  “I’ve seen such potential in mortals.” Kurt looked hard at Joe, boundless rage blazing in his eyes. Joe knew better than to flinch and held his ground, staring back. Kurt slid his sleeve back over his arm. “It’s there. However, I see it in them all.”

  “Am I somehow destined to become— a monster?”

  Kurt shrugged, turning back to the piano. “That’s up to you.” He began tapping out a melody with one finger. “There’s a letter on the table, Doctor.”

  “About Mia… ”

  Kurt’s voice scaled up boyishly with tension, “Mia can be difficult.”

  “She claims to want to walk in the sun and watch the old demons destruct around her.”

  “Our culture is older than any existing nation of men and our customs aren’t enlightened. We’re slaves. Of course she wants to see them fall.”

  “And this project will hasten that?”

  “Perhaps, we’ll all be worse off, but we can never go back to that world.”

  “Who’s hunting you?”

  “We don’t know— only that there’s a bounty on our heads.”

  “I’m doing my best to make it more tolerable for you here.”

  “Mia is the only thing that could possibly make it tolerable.” His voice filled with longing, “How is she?”

  “Well, we had an argument. She’s pissed.”

  “Mia is formidable in an argument.” A small smile flickered over Kurt’s face. “She’s so very— passionate. If we were together, she’d be much calmer.”

  Joe ran his hand over the polished surface of the piano. “This piano is horrendously expensive. It’s a shame for it to collect dust.”

  Kurt touched the keys ruefully. “I feel no desire when she can’t hear.”

  “I’d consider it an honor to hear you play.”

  Kurt scrutinized Joe for a moment. “Very well, Doctor.”

  Joe sank down into the leather armchair. “Please, call me, Joe.”

  Kurt settled down onto the bench. “Anything you’d particularly like to hear, Doctor?”

  So, Kurt wasn’t about to lessen the professional distance. Joe had the feeling it would always remain so. “I wouldn’t presume.”

  Kurt’s eyes focused on the distant wall. “I’ll play what Mia likes.”

  He sat in silence for a moment then started to play. Joe recognized the piece from a CD in his office. Chopin’s Nocturne in E Flat Major. It started out softly, delicately building, outwardly innocuous as a rippling brook but with potential torrents carefully contained. Kurt’s slight figure became powerful as his hands moved over the keys, drawing out all the dark passion of the music. Amazing that one of these things could create such beauty.

  When Kurt finished Joe was speechless, moved by the music. Kurt turned on the bench, huge eyes glittering silently, brushing back a tawny curl from his pale forehead. They regarded each other, the man and the vampire, one male animal and the other. Did Kurt have any idea of the suggestive things Mia said? And what did she say to Kurt on that cream-colored perfumed stationery? Intimate missives.

  Adversaries, without any say in the matter. Was this why Lydia sent him in with them, to play them off against each other on purpose? And if so, why?

  Surprisingly, it was Kurt who broke the silence, almost shyly, “Does she like the flowers?”

  Joe didn’t know what to say, so he told the barest truth, hoping Kurt wouldn’t see it entire. “She hasn’t said anything.”

  Kurt’s face went still. Joe quickly changed the subject. “I’m no expert but you’re extraordinarily gifted.”

  Kurt shrugged, the smallest of smiles warming his face. Was he actually blushing?

  “You might have been a great musician. I mean you are. You could have been famous if… ”

  Kurt became horrifyingly still, a marble figure carved into a tomb, or was it a predator about to spring? “If this hadn’t happened to me?”

  “Could you always play like this? Or is it enhanced by the mutation?”

  “No more questions!” Kurt suddenly snapped. “Leave me now.”

  Joe paused for a moment then spoke humbly, “Thank you Kurt.”

  “For what?”

  “The music.”

  “The music? Yes. The music— you’re welcome,” Kurt replied in a vague staccato, staring hard at Joe’s face. “This is very difficult for her, to be caged, like an animal, after all we’ve been through. I’m gravely concerned.”

  Joe wasn’t quite sure what to make of this. Was this a warning of some kind?

  “This isn’t what she promised.”

  Joe stood up, running his hands over his exhausted eyes. “I should go now.”

  Kurt’s face relaxed subtly. He moistened his full bottom lip slightly. “I don’t hold you responsible, Doctor. Forgive me if I was brusque.”

  “I’d be handling it a lot worse if I were you.”

  The vampire laughed a small laugh, like an intake of breath. Joe smiled and stifled the bizarre urge to pat him on the head paternally, and turned uneasily to let himself out of the cell.

  SIX

  * * * *

  Joe sat in his office, overlooking the symbols he’d jotted down from Kurt’s letter when Jean surprised him by touching his shoulder. “Runes, Joe?”

  He looked up into her ocean-blue eyes. “Ruins?”

  “Runes, stupid.” She wrinkled her freckle-dusted nose. “Viking runes, used by the Norse, they carved them on these huge stones all over Europe. They’re sometimes used for divination. My brother was into stuff like that.”

  “Divination?”

  “Prophesy, fortunetelling.”

  Joe reached over, closed the office door and swung his chair around to face her. “Jean, don’t tell anyone, but I’m carrying letters between Mia and Kurt.”

  She laughed. “How romantic of you. Here are the reports from pathology and medical.”

  “Finally. See you later?”

  She smiled and nodded as she made her way out.

  Joe was astonished by the test results. Cells that never died, only divided and re-divided, constantly rejuvenating. Deadly viruses, Ebola, HIV, and virulent bacteria like bubonic plague were devoured by a few drops of their blood. The cell cultures went on that way for one week or so, but unless fed fresh human blood cells they became erratic, dying rapidly. When exposed to ultraviolet light, they broke down in minutes, the cells unstable, and detiorating into rotting jelly.

  More wonders appeared before his eyes. Chromosomal anomalies in all twenty-three pairs, as if someone had snipped out offending genetic threads and replaced them. But what was responsible for this tailoring? So far the agent was unidentified.

  Human? So it appeared. Impossible to say, at this point, the extent of the differences. His scans showed their brains looked the same as human brains, but their limbic functions were more highly developed, and their sensory apparatus worked on a much more efficient level.

  Their bodies weren’t much different in appearance from mortals, except for an absence of pigmentation from non-exposure to the sun. Hair and nails grew at a slightly accelerated rate. Kurt grew facial hair, although very little. Their nails were somewhat harder and stronger, like horn. Their skin was as smooth as newborns, and hair luxuriously thick and glossy.

  The vampires gained almost no weight. The digestive system still functioned as normal, but their caloric intake was very small at any one meal, but like birds they ate often, because of a more rapid metabolism. Odd, he considered, because most animals with quick metabolisms didn’t live long, a notable difference being parrots, which often outlived their owners.

  Their muscles, if not bulky were extremely dense and well developed— more flexible and two to three times stronger than a large, strong human male. But these two diminutive creatures weren’t the largest specimens
. A fully matured alpha male, as Mia called them, would be much more dangerous.

  Of course there was the question of sex. Obviously, they still had the physical and mental capacity to perform and enjoy, but she didn’t ovulate or menstruate and he shot blanks.

  Joe spent hours reviewing the data in his office and wondering about them. Aside from the physiological differences the tests revealed, he observed nothing about their behavior that couldn’t be construed as ordinary human behavior in a confined atmosphere. Both were bored, obviously, agitated by the constant intrusions on their privacy, but only Joe knew how much they missed one another. No one on the staff but Jean or Lydia saw their emotional depth and intelligence, or even seemed to care. They didn’t view them as anything but monsters. Yes, they had killed many times but they obeyed a biological imperative. Somehow they found a way to deal with it and still feel empathy. Yet even Joe wasn’t quite sure if he wasn’t being manipulated to believe so. That’s what made them so dangerous.

  He glanced at his watch and saw that it was past four. Jean was off-duty. He had three hours until he had to meet with Mia. Enough time for a quick rendezvous.

  Jean’s lithe figure lay on the bed, tanned skin smooth and supple, molten gold hair falling over her straight shoulders. Something of the sun and sea about her, blue and gold and clean, Joe mused as he caressed her.

  It ate him that they had to hide their relationship. This wasn’t just some cheesy affair. Jean was more than a mistress. She was his only friend. If things were different he’d get a divorce and marry her, but he couldn’t. His family would turn their backs on him. And what would Rima do? She’d never been on her own and wouldn’t know how to get on without him. It was an unfair mess most Americans wouldn’t comprehend in these days of easy coupling and uncoupling. He had scruples, duty to his family, but he couldn’t live without Jean.

  She rolled over to kiss him. “What time are you back on duty?”

  “Graveyard shift, I have an appointment with her at seven but I have to stop in to see him first.”

  “Oh come on, Joe, all the guys envy you.”

  He rolled over onto his back and stretched his arms out over his head. “They’re welcome to the job. What do you think of her?”