Cara Mia

by Denise Verrico

  Lydia frowned as she doodled on a tablet. “Lee is adding more security inside and outside the building. They’re safe down here.”

  “Damn it, Lydia! It’s never going to be safe for them. Or us, for that matter.”

  “Did Kurt tell you anything else? About the discs or his computer?”

  That was it. He’d had enough. “My job is to study them, not to spy on them!” Joe stood and stalked out, slamming the door behind him.

  When Joe reached Mia’s cell he found her strangely despondent again, sitting on the bed with her knees hugged up to her chest. “What’s wrong?”

  “Get us the hell out of here.”

  “Lee Brooks will be here in a week. When she comes, I’ll convince her.”

  She laughed bitterly. “Do the words, when hell freezes over, have any meaning for you?”

  He stared at her for a long time. She was too still, too deadpan. “Something has been eating the shit out of you.”

  “Last week they went in and took inventory of the female plumbing. I was awake the whole time. They were afraid to use any drugs. The butcher who did it patted me on the fanny afterward, and told me I’d be better in no time. I put a lock on his balls, and he promptly apologized for the little familiarity—can’t seem to behave myself.” Suddenly she looked very weary. “They took eggs.”

  Joe sat next to her. “This is why you’re so upset?”

  She snarled at him, “If they jerked you off without your permission how would you feel?”

  “I see your point.”

  “What will they do with them?”

  “Check for viability and mutation, I suppose.”

  “They won’t try to clone me or something?”

  “They can’t do that yet, besides cloning humans is an ethical minefield.”

  “But I’m not human!”

  “You’re a person. You have rights.”

  “I’m entitled to rights?”

  He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “Snap out of it Mia!” She looked up surprised. “We won’t get anywhere this way.”

  “They all think I’m a monster!”

  “You feed on human beings. How else can they see you, from a purely biological point of view?”

  She went to sit down in front of the mirror, staring. “I’m just a freak of nature, something to be poked and prodded and experimented upon…”

  “No Mia. You’re much more to me than that.”

  She peered off somewhere in the distance. “Ethan taught me humanity was an unending banquet, to be devoured and cast aside, but I can’t see you that way. You burn—a star in the void.” Mia suddenly turned, looking on him with troubled eyes. “What if I told you, my one and only wish is to be human again, not necessarily mortal, but human?”

  “You have a selfless reason to be here. No one would risk everything to do this if they didn’t. Not many human beings have your courage, or Kurt’s. Lee Brooks is coming here in less than seven days. I need to get finished with this profile before she gets here. I’m under the gun here, and someone out there is hunting you. I really want to help, Mia. I swear to you, I’m not backing down. You and Kurt deserve better treatment.”

  “I’m sorry I’ve been so snappish. You’re the only one who’s stood up for us.”

  “As long as you remain so in a figurative sense, I can deal.”

  A small smile curled her mouth. “Those days are behind me forever—strictly bottled blood. I suppose you should know everything—but until Kurt and I are together, we won’t give them any hard data.”

  “I understand. Tell me everything that’s happened up until this point.”

  “For many years Brovik made no real headway. Ethan and I went back to relative seclusion in Virginia, but by the eighties, he’d made enough progress to send us to New York to woo drug companies with possibilities for treating immune disorders, like AIDS. Of course, all was still theoretical at this point, but, Ethan, with my assistance turned them on, and the money started to flow. He got a nice percentage of everything we raised and of course, now that he was really rich he started shopping for a new toy…

  This wasn’t the New York I remembered. I’d seen movies and television, so I knew it wouldn’t be the same as in the fifties but nothing prepared me for the shock of seeing it thirty-six years after I’d left it a newborn vampire. It was filthy. The crumbling subway stations smelled of human waste. The streets were home to a host of lost humanity. Glittering glass boxes and granite walled fortresses entombed a corporate Netherworld, of dark suited men and women, who’d arise nightly from coffin-like cubicles. It was like a city of vampires, from the pale and elegant creatures dressed in black in Soho galleries, to the beautiful wraiths stalking runways.

  December the twenty-fifth, nineteen-eighty six, was as usual marked by silence. The room in which I sat pondering my existence was a darkened, damask boudoir in Ethan’s Victorian townhouse. He moved around his own room across the hall. Nights went by without a single word. I crossed to the window, pulling back the drape. Just past sunset, workers were waiting for busses or running to subways. Horns blared and auto exhaust worked its way into the house, bringing along a whiff of charcoal.

  The first snowfall had come early. By the time I awakened, the street below my window was blanketed in white. I placed my hands flat against the windowpane to feel the cold. Placing my lips up to the glass I left a frosty kiss etched there.

  He opened his door and crossed the hall to mine. There was a soft knock. I sighed, and then crossed the room to admit him. He hadn’t sought me out in a while.

  After it was done, he left me without so much as a thank you, and went out. I watched as he left, wondering how it would be to never touch the satin texture of his skin again, to feel the hardness of his muscle against me, or bury my nose in the perfumed darkness of his hair.

  Female scent mingled with Chanel Number Five clung to Ethan’s clothes when he returned mornings. He said he was fucking some attorney, who, he took great pleasure in informing me, was like a super model in a magazine, beautiful and brilliant. He’d retained her firm’s services to handle the acquisition of some biotech companies for Brovik.

  I whispered under my breath as the door closed, “Maybe tonight I’ll actually leave you.”

  I rose from the bed and went to the bathroom, turning on the hot water full blast to let the room steam up before I went in. I poured in some bath oil. The tiny room filled with the aroma of jasmine. I slipped into the tub imagining myself in the garden in Virginia, lying on the grass on a summer’s night long ago staring at the stars.

  I picked up the old fashioned straight razor I’d taken from Ethan’s bathroom, running its cold edge against my wrist to watch the blood well up. I ran my tongue over and tasted the salt-iron flavor. The wound immediately clotted. It would take a much larger cut to kill me. I touched the sharp edge to my throat and closed my eyes. There was his face. I pressed the edge of the blade harder against my carotid artery. It would make a big spray, all over the pristine white marble and he’d be so furious. I pressed it harder, breaking out in a sweat. Couldn’t do it. Chicken shit. Still, I wanted to wound him in some way. I lay in the water for an hour trying to think of something.

  As steam evaporated from the mirror, my face appeared, engulfed in masses of dark hair. I cocked my head to the side and held out a long lock. It was almost as hard as cutting my throat, but this would annoy him about as much as finding the bathroom covered in my blood. I took a deep breath, and then began hacking with the razor. My boyish reflection, sans make-up and spiky hair pleased me immensely.

  What to do to amuse myself? I’d tired of television, even with all the cable channels, and the only books in the place I hadn’t already read were Ethan’s tomes. What could be more fascinating than the snow itself, each unique flake a study of hexagonal perfection? I wanted to catch them and feel them on my face.

  The grandfather’s clock in the hall chimed eight. I dressed in the jeans and leather jacket I’d
bought from a catalogue with Ethan’s credit card. At the last moment, I spied my art nouveau butterfly pendant on the dressing table and picked it up, twirling it in my fingers. It was the first and prettiest thing Ethan ever gave me. I couldn’t resist putting it on.

  As I descended the stairs, the door opened and Ethan came in. He wasn’t alone. I caught the scent, female Immortyl with a hint of Chanel Number Five. He’d gone and done it!

  Her huge, amber eyes were shocked when she saw me. Not as shocked as I was. She stood at least six two, with strong, broad shoulders under her camel coat. Her sculpted face, with cheekbones Nefertiti would envy, was surrounded by masses of deep copper curls, but her skin wasn’t like any Immortyl that I’d yet seen, not palest white or even faintly gold, but a warm gold-brown.

  She spoke in a velvety, husky voice, “You’d better say this is your little sister, Ethan.”

  I almost felt sorry for her. She looked so bewildered by it all, but this was still my territory and I wasn’t giving up without a fight. “Who the fuck are you?”

  She didn’t bat an eye. “Leisha Brookings.”

  I knew that name. “The lawyer? He has more balls than I give him credit for.”

  Ethan set down an expensive set of imported luggage. “Leisha will live with us from now on, Mia.”

  I had to lob a dart his way. “I’m surprised. What will your darling Brovik say?”

  Her eyebrows went up. “Who?”

  “Let’s just say he’s the prince of darkness, and Ethan’s his princess.”

  He twisted my arm. “Shut up!”

  I pulled away. “Have you taken leave of your senses? Does she know what you are?”

  Leisha’s amber eyes perked up. “What’s she talking about?”

  Was I a fool? But oh, it felt so good. I turned to her. “Ethan has some very colorful skeletons in the family closet. Did he tell you how old he is, or where he comes from?”

  “Go to your room, Mia,” he rumbled low in his chest. “We’ll talk later.”

  “Actually, I’m going out.” I grabbed my gloves from the sideboard and shoving them in my pocket.

  Leisha cut me off at the door. “He’s told me nothing. You’d better, because he won’t.”

  Outrage worked in her face, not one shred of the worship I’d felt for him. Now I saw the state of things. I stared at Ethan in disbelief. “Did she choose?”

  He couldn’t answer. Leisha’s eyes flared again. She grabbed my shoulders and began to shake. I winced. She was really strong. “I didn’t ask for this! Did you?”

  Disgusted, I broke free. I wasn’t quite sure I liked her. She was hard, brusque and grim, and I didn’t have to, in view of things.

  “Oh, come now Leisha, you weren’t entirely unwilling,” Ethan sneered, taking her in his arms. Surprisingly, she didn’t protest—animal lust, nothing more. “What do you think of your new sister, Mia? Amazing, yes? I told you I could improve on the prototype. This one isn’t bothered by scruples—pure unadulterated avarice—with a law degree from Harvard to boot.”

  I took in her magnificence. Ouch. “You’ll never keep this one on a leash.”

  “What the fuck are you two talking about!”

  I didn’t like her after all. Strong, yes, smart, obviously, but really pushy. Woe to anyone standing in her way. She was admirable, but likable? Hell no. The imp dancing in my head tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop her. “Tell her about life down on the ol’ plantation Ethan, circa eighteen sixty. There’s way too much historical baggage here. I’ll pity you when she’s finished.”

  He grabbed me by the throat, throwing me against the wall. My head cracked, opening a gash. Blood trickled down my face. I touched the wound and momentarily dazed collapsed to my knees.

  Leisha gasped. “Ethan, stop! You’ll kill her! She’s a just a kid, for crissakes!”

  “It’ll take a hell of a lot more to kill this bitch. You want freedom, Mia? Push me enough and you just might get it.”

  Leisha convulsed at the sight of me licking my own blood from my hand, covering her face in horror at her own reaction.

  I struggled to my feet. “I’ve killed and whored for you for thirty-five years you bastard!”

  His eyes narrowed into cold, blue little slits. “Go then, I release you from all bonds, but take only what is on your back.”

  Leisha held out her hand. “We’ll go together. Please Mia, don’t leave me with this monster.”

  Her long golden-brown hand clasped mine. I looked up to the amber eyes, desperation, but no empathy. Leisha would help no one but herself.

  Ethan gave her a staggering blow. She crumpled to the floor, gasping in pain.

  “Don’t you understand?” I said. “We’re his slaves you poor fool, neither of us has any rights!”

  “Cunt!” Ethan grabbed me around the torso. I struggled, spitting and swearing. Clapping his hand over my mouth, he dragged me out into the alley, and flung me hard to the ground. I leapt up, scratching a bloody gash across his face. Whirling around, he dealt me a back handed smack that sent me crashing into a garbage can. I crouched on the ground, ready to spring again. He just laughed as he lifted me up to his mouth.

  I fought hard, weakening fast as he drained me to the point of helplessness. Searing pain overtook me. He threw me down. I struggled against the darkness, trying to raise my bleeding head from the ground and pull myself together, but no matter how hard I tried it wouldn’t budge. Ethan’s figure loomed in the darkness, his breathing heavy and heartbeat rapid, prodding me with the toe of his shoe. “Suffer among the vermin, in graveyards and sewers, cut off from your blood, and the protection of our house, a bleeding wound for all to feed on! Perish in pain and despair.”

  “Leisha Brookings…” Joe mused, wondering why the name seemed so familiar. Then a blinding light flashed before his eyes. Lee Brooks, No one had ever seen her but Lydia! Who was Lee Brooks? He nearly shouted it, “Lee Brooks is a vampire?”

  “She knew what needed to be done. I did my part, and so did Kurt. Together we pulled off this magnificent illusion.”

  “Where did you get that kind of money?”

  “Kurt kind of borrowed it from Brovik.”

  “He stole it? No wonder you’re hiding! But why are you withholding data from your own partner? But she’s the one who duped you, isn’t she? Why Mia? Why is she so dead set on keeping you away from Kurt?”

  “Divide and conquer. She and Kurt never really saw eye to eye. She thinks Kurt controls me.”

  “Shit. How long have the three of you been partners?”

  “Not long. For a long time I hated her guts. I might have hated Ethan but I was out on my ass without any support—and you know how that goes.”

  FIFTEEN

  I needed cash quick, so I sold my butterfly necklace to an antique dealer downtown, and found a sublet searching the ads in the Village Voice. It was very small, a studio, in the basement of a building in Chelsea, but large enough for a creature who’d spend her nights roaming the city streets in search of potential prey. It was mine for as long as I could pay a thousand a month and take care of the plants. The furnishings were sparse and functional. Except for a few photos and posters on the walls and one black Japanese vase on the counter there was no decoration.

  At first I wouldn’t leave the tiny apartment until hunger got the better of me. As soon as I was sated I’d hurry back to my basement lair and huddle on the futon watching television, reading or listening to music, shocked by the sudden change in my fortunes. Finally boredom won and I took to the streets. Ah, life in Manhattan without my master, a chance to revel in complete anonymity. No one noticed me or saw any reason to run away screaming in horror. Guys would give me a second look or sometimes make an animal sound but no one really cared if I lived or died. After thirty-six years of Ethan breathing down my neck it was a relief.

  I’d go to a coffee shop around the corner for a light meal and to read the newspapers. I’d order a decaf cappuccino, wrapping my hands around the
warmth and enjoying the aroma. No one gave a damn if I drank it or not. Afterward, I’d explore a different part of town. On nights they were open late, I went to museums. After a lucrative kill, I’d splurge on tickets to the theater or opera. I went to a lot of movies.

  So far, I hadn’t seen any of my own kind, which suited me fine. I spent the rest of that first winter like this.

  I saw no Immortyls for almost a year. I wasn’t sure if I was happy about this or depressed, because I was horribly lonely. I couldn’t just strike up a friendship with a mortal or take a mortal lover, after a few weeks he or she would notice my irregularities and there would be problems.

  Then one night, I polished off a drug dealer and had a little money to burn. A play I wanted to see was set to close, so I went to TKTS to obtain a ticket. I had time to kill before the show, so I went to an upscale bar and ordered a Virgin Mary, sipping at it while I scanned the crowd, scouting for potential danger. The place was packed with the pre-theatre crowd, noisy and convivial, older couples and well-dressed young people engaged in conversation but this was the kind of expensive place a passing Immortyl might frequent. A youngish man in wire-rimmed glasses sauntered up to the bar, striking up a conversation about how dreary the season was and how he hoped next year would bring something other than revivals and overblown London musicals. I half listened to his droning, when the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. Immortyl scent. Male.

  I looked around—couldn’t see him. I was safe in a crowd but remained wary. Whoever he was, he was coming closer through the crowd of mortals. Then I saw his face. I knew this one.

  Philip was dressed in black leather, his dark hair shorter, sporting a neatly trimmed beard and mustache, a diamond stud glittering in his ear. He wrapped his arms about me and kissed me. “Darling child, what on earth have you gotten yourself into?”

  The man I’d been speaking to excused himself sheepishly.

  “Who’s that?” Philip asked, as he watched him depart.

  “Indigestion,” I answered. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

  “And you’re in a pickle, wench.”