Jean frowned thoughtfully, “They’re both pretty creepy. They look at you and you’re naked to them— like they can see inside your head.”
Joe shook his head and rolled over on to his belly, laughing. “They read body and facial cues. Their olfactory sense is superior to ours. They can perceive slight changes in body chemistry by scent.”
She rubbed a knot out of his shoulder with her long, capable hands. “She’s gotten under your skin.”
“She’d like to.”
She rubbed harder at his shoulders. He grunted at the pressure of her fingers. “You’ve met your match.”
He looked up. “Huh?”
“You don’t take well to strong women. This one is beyond your wildest dreams. She has you by the balls.”
“Ridiculous,” he said, getting up from the mattress.
Jean cocked her head to the side and continued to rub it with the towel. “Are you attracted to her?”
“She’s not my type.”
“The guys actually have a pool going to see who’ll have sex with her first, you or Kurt. They’re betting on you, I hear. Bunch of jerks, they’d shrivel if she so much as looked at them. Why do you think Lydia gave you this job?”
“A sick joke?”
“Maybe there’s a certain irony— but who else could stand up to her? She’d eat the others alive. You’re different. Why do you think Mia responds to you? Lydia knew exactly what she was doing.”
“First class castrating bitch… ”
“You make me laugh. Lydia’s barely one hundred pounds, but she has you, too. Maybe women in powerful positions are there for a reason, not just to annoy you. Lydia is the top in her field, and a damned good administrator. She sent you in there because no one else has the forceful personality required for the job.”
Joe grinned. “Jean, you have common sense. You see things I can’t because I’m too… ”
“Pigheaded? Arrogant?”
“Exactly, and now Mia’s pissed off at me and I don’t understand why.”
“Try treating her like a woman, not a subject.”
“If I start to see her as a human being, I’m lost.”
Jean’s face darkened. “What do you think she wants?”
“Not sex, that’s just a manipulative ploy.”
“Maybe she’s falling in love… ”
“Why are we even having this conversation?”
“They’re people, Joe, even if they aren’t like us. I talk with Kurt when I run scans on him. He’s very sensitive and kind of sweet. He loves her deeply.”
“Don’t get taken in. They fool me sometimes too. It’s how they operate. They make you think they’re human— then suck everything out of you. Don’t tell me you’re falling in love with Kurt?”
“Don’t be silly. But there’s something, well— ethereal about him. His face is achingly perfect, with that honey-colored hair and those great big blue eyes— like an angel— a beautiful male angel. Both of them are gorgeous in this unearthly way. Maybe vampires are the angels people claim to see… ”
“Reading the tabloids at the supermarket again?”
She flicked her towel again at him and he pulled her down to him laughing.
“Did you check out those runes, Joe?”
“Don’t tell me a thing. Don’t spell anything. They must use it as a cipher.” He kissed her on the throat. “Enough about them.” He began kissing her sun-browned skin all over, haunted suddenly by the image of porcelain-pale flesh. Jean wrapped legs around to take him inside, but he was elsewhere, far beyond the confines of her cozy apartment and tanned body.
Kurt was angelic, Joe had to admit, when he entered his cell later that evening. More like a pubescent boy than the young man he’d obviously been. His eyes caught Joe’s for a moment and appeared vaguely amused.
“Productive afternoon, Doctor?”
Joe ignored his observation. “I’m on my way to Mia. You have a letter?”
Kurt studied Joe’s face again as he handed him an envelope. His expression darkened. “Yes, I see… ”
Joe let himself out cautiously, not really sure what Kurt was getting at. Moments later, Joe handed Mia her partner’s letter. She rushed over to the armchair to read it, chuckling at something in the contents.
Joe cleared his throat. “Mia— about Kurt. I saw something last night, on his arm.”
She looked up. “I thought you knew. The doctors must have seen when we were examined.”
“Somehow I missed this. Which camp?”
“Dachau.”
“How did he survive? He looks as if the wind could have blown him away.”
“He almost didn’t. His entire family was gassed at Auschwitz. You disturbed a major demon. You know who he was?”
“No.”
“A child prodigy, a celebrated pianist.”
“I see.” Remembering Jean’s advice, he took a deep breath and did an unaccustomed thing. “Listen. I’m sorry if I was less than sympathetic last time we met. I’m an insensitive boob sometimes— a lot of the time. You’ve taken great risks in coming here and I understand that this work is very important to you. I hope we can continue.”
For a split second her mouth dropped open and eyes widened in surprise, then just as rapidly, she shrugged it off and took her place. “It’s ok. Let’s go.”
He pulled out his notes. “You left off where Ethan made you a vampire. What happened after that?”
“Well, the first year was kind of a training period for me. We lived in Ethan’s home in Virginia. It was a large, red brick house built along graceful Georgian lines. I’d spent my life in small apartments and now he brought me to this mansion. By day, I’m sure it was lovely, surrounded by huge old oaks and a vast green lawn, but that first night the shadows lent a gothic aspect to the place, making me uneasy, like some Bronte heroine.
This sudden urge to flee overtook me, and I might have if Ethan hadn’t held his arm firmly about me. If you could say anything for Ethan, he inspired confidence. As situations go, it was very bizarre. Here I was with a man sprung from my dreams, who vowed to love me for eternity, but it still wasn’t quite all I’d dreamt of. One teensy little fact I couldn’t get past; he was one hundred and twenty, and drank blood to survive. No shit, I shivered standing in front of my new home.
He sensed my apprehension. “It’s very strange to be uprooted from the only life and place you’ve ever known. It’ll seem so for a time. Once I teach you what you need to know, we may mingle more freely in human society, and you’ll appreciate the world far more than you did before. I will always be at your side to protect you.”
Again, I asked myself— from what?
The finality gave me that queasy Jane Eyre-ish feeling in the gut again. I depended now on his sufferance for my very survival. No longer part of the mortal world, I’d no earthly, or should I say unearthly, idea of what the vampiric one would bring. Clutching him tightly, I burst into tears.
Ethan, extremely moved, comforted me. “Hush now. Let’s see the house, shall we?”
He unlocked the front door and switched on the lights. I breathed a sigh of relief. It was still the twentieth century.
He toured me about the house, pointing out works of art and architectural features with great pride as I clung nervously to his arm.
“Gee whiz, I’ll never get used to the fact that you’re over a century old!”
Ethan smiled at that. “Wait until you meet one from another millennium.”
Now I was truly appalled. Creatures from societies that burned people alive, sacrificed virgins and kept slaves? Slavery? Oh boy, I hadn’t even considered this question. Obviously, it was part of Ethan’s past.
“What about the vampire who— I didn’t know the lingo yet— did this to you?”
He kind of snapped at me, “We call ourselves Immortyls. Vampire is a vulgar term.”
“Sorry. So who did it?”
His face tensed. “I really don’t wish to discuss it.”
&nbs
p; I quickly changed the subject as we entered another room. “Wow, what’s this place?”
“The drawing room.”
“Oh Ethan it’s so pretty!”
Delicate furnishings were swathed in bright silks and tapestry. Richly patterned rugs of blue and yellow wool covered gleaming wood floors. A huge chandelier sparkled overhead. My breath caught in wonder at the glitter, like the stars, like Ethan.
“I could stay here forever!”
The most splendiferous object was pleased, lifting and twirling me around. I laughed, the glittering lights and motion making me giddy. Little did I know when I spotted the notice for the play that I was to glimpse a world about to dawn!
He set me down and pulled something sparkling from his pocket, an art nouveau butterfly pendant set with star sapphires and tiny diamonds. “To commemorate your emergence from the chrysalis.” He did the clasp around my neck. “Your journey is just beginning, my butterfly.”
Just where would it take me? To the end of the earth and back— this particular act, I was confined to the Old Dominion— a Bird of Prey in a gilded cage, if you will.
Well, it all took some getting used to. Not just the liquid diet, the whole darn shebang. The lack of sunlight really got to me. The sun was in my blood and I’d always found the winter depressing. I was used to New York crowds and my raucous theatre chums. Ethan’s house, however, was isolated from the rest of the world and I had no human contact. Even the two elderly servants worked while we slept and then went home.
I was also curious about everything having to do with my lover, but Ethan wasn’t exactly forthcoming with information. As loquacious as he could be, there were periods of brooding silence that went on and on, when he would peevishly wave me away. I’d back off, hurt and bewildered, but the night my fangs finally came in, he demanded we share essence immediately. And I learned a curious thing.
I eagerly tore into his throat for the first time, embracing the glowing pulse of his heart within my own. Then the screen lit up inside me, and I saw the tall blond man of my nightmare, his long hair blowing in the wind, standing in a snowy landscape with arms outstretched. A searing climax rocked us both, as if this person willed it. I tried to probe Ethan’s memory deeper and find out who this man was, but my lover abruptly pulled away and the vision vanished. We lay there panting and gasping for breath.
“Ethan, can we read minds?”
He pulled himself over me, eager for round two. “Really Mia.”
I opened my thighs to admit him. Every evening started this way, not that I objected. I was more than happy to oblige him.
“I sense things about you sometimes… ”
He didn’t miss a stroke. “You’re simply reading the language of the body, the timbre of the voice. Trust me, the less hocus pocus you believe the better. It clouds the mind.”
“How do you explain the visions when we share essence?”
He pulled out abruptly. “Visions?”
“I saw a man with long blond hair, standing in the snow. Who is he?”
He rolled off of me. “No one— you saw nothing! A hallucination brought on by ingesting blood, nothing more!”
“Seems to me, you know him well… ”
He ignored my questions and got up to dress. “Get dressed. You have reading to do.”
Ethan had peculiar ideas about our place in the world and thought it his duty to instruct me nightly in the drawing room. “Mortals are lesser beings,” he said calmly, as he laid out his nightly game of solitaire on the inlaid card table. “You’ve undergone a metamorphosis. Your flesh is no longer mortal, and now you must shed the vestiges of the puny human psyche. Open your consciousness to new possibilities… ”
I struggled through the dusty old tome he’d assigned me, scowling. This philosophy of his was, in my opinion, simply a case of some animals being more equal than others, but it was seductive when offered by the epitome of male beauty. To Ethan, after living thirty-three years at the apex of human development, it seemed only natural that his new form took on divine proportions. It really isn’t hard to imagine how he’d come to this conclusion. One look at Ethan would have made a believer out of the most hardened skeptic.
Ever the curious little cat, I put down the book he’d assigned me and thumbed through a very old leather bound photo album on the table, to a picture of a girl, fair, very slender, in her late teens. Her eyes stared out of the old daguerreotype like a plea for help. No one ever smiled much in those old pictures but she looked positively scared to death. “Ethan, this is your wife?”
An annoyed look came over him. “Yes— that’s Sally Anne.”
I couldn’t help feeling jealous. “Did you love her?”
“We were ill-suited. I married her out of duty. My father was afraid he’d die before seeing any grandchildren. She was the least objectionable choice.”
I felt another more severe stab. “You had children?”
A pained look briefly crossed his face. “Two sons, Robert and Joseph,” he said, quietly turning the leaf to show me.
I looked down on two toddlers dressed in the fashion of a century ago, the unmistakable stamp of Ethan on those sweet faces. Gut instinct told me he still grieved for them. “Ethan, can’t we have a baby?”
His face had that sudden odd look again. “No. We procreate through the blood.”
“What if you had taken me and I hadn’t— gotten rid of it?”
“An abomination that would have devoured you from inside. We’re sterile. We’ll never make a child together.”
I sank to the floor in a heap, sobbing. For some reason, in the glow of transformation, I’d never considered this. What had I deluded myself into thinking? I wasn’t really alive anymore was I? I was some kind of ghoul now no matter what fancy name we called ourselves. Ethan lifted me to my feet and held me close. “Hush now little bird, don’t cry. I understand.”
I tried to free myself. “You didn’t murder your own offspring! I’m eternally damned for what I did!”
“Who is to judge what you did? It was the best thing you could have done, under the circumstances. There’s no such place as hell, except for the one men make, but you are my angel, and I can’t bear your tears.”
I choked back the tears as he ordered, but I’d never absolve myself of the responsibility. Every time I went to his arms I’d remember what I’d done to get there. Yet, there I was and how I craved his embrace. If he was damnation— then I was damned.
Ethan’s regime didn’t let me hunt at first, instead he taught me to navigate the sinuous web of the human mind and just what strings to pull to get the desired result, involving me in complex seductions with mortals. Physical attractions snare the victim, but he trained me to play the vampire on a higher plane, to learn the victim’s weaknesses and exploit them, whether the demons be sexual, psychological or both— more challenging and hence more of a thrill at the game’s conclusion.
More than just a voyeuristic thrill was involved in these nasty little con games we played. Each time we took on more complicated scenarios, more complex rules and more wealthy victims, and he guided me through each with a sense of deadly purpose.
He also dictated my appearance, wardrobe and manners to the letter, until I was completely his creation, his dress-up doll. However, Ethan’s lessons also involved the use of less feminine weapons, namely knives and firearms, and the best methods for dispatching Immortyls, quick decapitation or a large caliber bullet to the brain or heart. I couldn’t imagine why he wanted me to learn all that.
After several months of training, Ethan finally let his falcon fly solo. We drove up north, all the way into Connecticut, to a lonely Tudor knock-off on a hill. Dusty gravel driveway crunched like shards of dried bone under our feet, while the Long Island Sound crashed on rocks below. Leaded glass windows on the first floor were dark, no beacon shining to welcome our arrival. I asked him who owned the house.
“Your former lover’s wife— time you did the honors.”
Up until now, Ethan had done all the actual killing, and I might have balked had it not been Richard.
We crept around to a completely modern patio and swimming pool surrounded by chairs and chaise lounges, where I envisioned Richard and Katherine on fine days, drinking cocktails and spitting venom.
A foghorn belched over the water. Mist enveloped the house like in some old Universal horror flick, the perfect setting. I could smell Richard’s blood already.
Ethan jimmied the back door and we stole into the house. Bluish moonlight streaming into the cavernous phony English Country interior set Ethan’s eyes ablaze. I ascended the stairway, gracefully in the manner he’d taught, careful not to let the tapping of my tiny heels ruin the element of surprise.
A small pool of light spilled out into the hallway. Berlioz on the radio. I took one deliberate step after another, forcing myself into the dark corner bearing Richard’s name. A baby cried desperately for help. Legions of demons poured out as I lay again on the table, cold instruments invading, tearing into me.
I took a deep breath and swooped into the room, alighting on the bed. Richard’s book fell to the floor with a thump. “Mia, good God, everyone thinks you’re dead!”
“Good thing you had Katherine as an alibi that night. Do I look dead to you?”
Beads of perspiration came on his forehead, the smell of adrenaline coursed through his body. “I’m relieved to see you alive.”
I traced the line of his throat, reaching unbuttoning the topmost pajama button. His pulse raced under his damp skin.
“We had a little appointment that day, remember? In Sumara.” I ran my other hand up his thigh, a teasing little spider crawling up the old waterspout. I tossed my hair filling the air with a pheromone cocktail and slipped overtop him. His fingers timidly brushed the bare thigh above my stocking. I smacked his hand away. “Naughty boy.”
“You’re still full of surprises.”
“You’ve no idea.”
Ethan slipped into the room, leaning gracefully against the doorframe and laughed.
Richard blanched. “What the hell?”
Ethan was at his best, the cavalier at his lady’s service, all panache. “The lady needed an escort… you bowed out.”
Cara Mia - Book One of the Immortyl Revolution Page 9