Nine Lives (Lifeline Book 1)

by Kit Colter

  But she didn’t take a break. She just sat there, hunkered over the book with an aching neck and back, for three and half hours. And then there it was. At the bottom of the page. Almost indistinguishable from a hundred other words she had skimmed over. But this was it.

  Erin placed one finger on the page, afraid she would lose her place, and blinked the dryness from her eyes. “I’ve got it,” she said to Lyle, who was squinting at the twins’ laptop screen.

  “What did you get?” he asked.

  “Lyle, bring the laptop over here,” Erin said.

  Lyle did as she said, then sat down and squinted at the word printed beneath Erin’s fingertip.

  “That was faster than I imagined it would be,” he said.

  Erin shrugged. “Do you think you can translate it?” she asked.

  “It’s worth a try,” Lyle said sheepishly.

  Erin didn’t respond, but Lyle smiled lopsidedly, as though he wasn’t sure he should be smiling.

  “I knew you were special,” he said.

  Erin sighed and pulled the laptop closer to inspect the concordance Lyle had retrieved from the internet. The first page was a copy of what looked like an alphabet and each Latin letter’s English counterpart. The following pages detailed unfamiliar words, in Latin alphabetical order, and their English translations. Erin retrieved a notebook and two pencils from her backpack, then sat down in front of the book.

  “I think we ought to go slowly and cooperatively,” Lyle said.

  “What?” Erin asked.

  “Translation’s a touchy business,” Lyle said.

  Erin shook her head, glanced at the bottom of the page, and started at the beginning of the sentence containing Annexus Mons. She glanced at the first word, Capra, then checked the alphabet on the computer screen. She scrolled down and located what appeared to be a seemingly endless list of different conjugations of the same root word.

  “So, that means goat?” she asked Lyle.

  “Not quite. See, it’s actually she-goat,” he responded.

  Erin frowned and scooted back a little, realizing this was a project best left to the experts. Lyle leaned in, adjusted his glasses, and went to work. Watching Lyle translate, Erin knew they could not realistically work in shifts or take turns. She didn’t know enough about Latin, language, or translation to do any good. So, she stayed by his side and breathed as quietly as possible and fetched him tea and snacks and tissues and anything else he wanted. She cleaned his glasses for him. Re-warmed his drinks when they got cold. Arranged a snack tray.

  Anything and everything she could think of to keep him working.

  * * *

  Eight and a half hours later, Lyle finished triple-checking the translation, then leaned back in his chair, removed his glasses, and rubbed his face.

  “Done. I think.”

  Erin emerged from the kitchen with a mug full of steaming tea and sat down, carefully placing the mug and saucer on a chair beside Lyle. That way, if the cup spilled it wouldn’t jeopardize the book. Erin didn’t even notice the twins stroll into the room as she turned her attention to the translation scrawled in both her own and Lyle’s handwriting.

  Lyle cleared his throat. “I’ll have to rearrange the words a bit as I’m speaking, just so it makes sense.”

  Erin nodded, unable to make herself read the translation. She was afraid of what she might find. In the beginning, she had read every new word, but then her imagination started running wild. And after that, Lyle began changing the words they had already translated. And Erin had gotten so tense she made herself stop looking.

  Lyle took a deep breath and gazed down at the scrawling translation. “Blah, blah, blah ... blah, blah ...”

  Erin stared at him. “Wait a minute, what do you mean blah, blah? What’s it say, damn it!?”

  “Oh, you know, just the normal, introductory stuff,” Lyle said.

  Erin gave him an irritated shove without even thinking about it, then pulled the notebook over to herself and began reading. She read very slowly, though, due to the odd sequence of the words. Verbs sometimes came before nouns and objects sometimes before subjects, so she had to mentally rearrange the order.

  “The year of our Lord, 1379, province of Ober-Oberrosteri— Some province. The Ran-sho-fin—I can’t pronounce that either—monastery. Transcribed by ... Wait a second.” Erin went silent, swiftly reading through the translation. “What the hell is this? It’s just—You know what this thing says?” She shortened the story immensely because, considering the content, details were pointless.

  “Idga the peasant girl gets too attached to a family goat, follows it up the mountain called Annexus Mons, and follows it right off a cliff.”

  “Yes. A mountain,” Lyle said.

  Erin just stared at the page. They had broken into a vault for that? For goats, village girls, and a goddamned mountain?

  “If I’m not wrong, I believe the, eh, the province in question would be in current day Austria. Yes, I think that’s it. Austria. Pretty country. Trees and whatnot. Very green. Right setting for a good, mythic mountain.”

  “Mythic, huh?” Seven asked, flipping around the laptop. A map on the screen displayed a ridge-line indication of a mountain and the words Hoher Dachstein embroidered across it. Seven hit a button, and the screen zoomed in closer. Closer. Closer. Erin stared at the words Ranshofen Monastery.

  “And what the hell did you put in this tea?” Seven asked, who had taken up Lyle’s mug and was staring at it in distaste.

  “Tang,” Lyle said simply, studying the map. “Hmph.”

  “Tang?” Derek asked.

  Lyle nodded, still staring at the screen.

  “Is it good?” Derek asked.

  Lyle nodded again.

  “No,” Seven hissed, setting aside the tea. Derek picked up the mug and downed the entire contents. He looked like he might frown for a moment, then he tilted his head from side to side in a ‘so-so’ gesture.

  Erin blocked it all out, her mind swirling back to the vision. Trees. That mountain crest. The bell tower reaching into the sky. That godawful skeletal thing.

  Erin turned to Derek and Seven. “What does this mean?”

  Derek shrugged. Seven stood up and paced out of the room.

  “You can’t tell me anything? At all?”

  Derek frowned and walked to the kitchen. Erin listened to him move about for a minute or two before returning with a glass of what appeared to be Tang. “It could mean a lot of things. You could be psychic. You could be connected to someone who lived there, blood-wise. You could be reincarnated. You could be the devil for all we know.”

  “Psychic?” Erin asked.

  “Most psychics are just tetrachromes, but that’s not the case with the powerful ones, and doesn’t seem to be the case with you,” Derek explained.

  “Tetrachromes exist?” Lyle asked in astonishment.

  Derek inclined his head. “Sure.”

  “What’s a tetrachrome?” Erin asked.

  “Humans with a fourth cone type in their eyes.” Lyle pushed up his glasses as he spoke. “Birds have extra cones. They can see ultraviolet rays, all sorts of things we can’t.”

  Derek gave Lyle a half nod. “The cones create color vision. Sometimes the extra cone allows individuals to see frequencies of light that no one else can see, including the frequencies that resonate with demonic energies.”

  “Is that what you are?” Erin asked. “A tetrachrome?”

  Derek grinned. “Among other things.”

  “But all tetrachromes are supposed to be female,” Lyle said. “The tetra gene is positioned on the—”

  “We didn’t start out as twins,” Derek said, shaking his hair away from his right eye, which was deep, dark, velvety blue. Not at all like the pale blue of his left eye. Or Seven’s eyes.

  “I am so confused right now,” Erin said.

  “Triplets,” Lyle said.

  Derek gave him a distracted wink and dropped a potato chip onto the floor, where Pri
ncess quickly demolished it before resuming his search for crumbs.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Vanishing twin syndrome,” Lyle said. “Or triplet, in this case.”

  “Like I said,” Derek replied, “among other things.”

  “I’m not following any of this,” Erin said.

  “He absorbed a female twin, part of her anyway, and it produced a single tetrachromatic eye,” Lyle explained, looking at Derek with open fascination.

  Erin watched as Derek baited the dog with a potato chip for a moment, acted like he might drop it, then ate it. Princess whined and snorted.

  “But I’m not a tetrachromat or whatever it’s called,” Erin said.

  “Doesn’t explain the vision,” Derek replied. “Or the Elemental.”

  “But I’m not a psychic-psychic either—the non-tetra kind. Am I?”

  Derek leaned forward. “I don’t know. Are you?”

  Erin didn’t know how to answer the question. “I don’t think so. How would you even know?”

  Derek tossed a chip over his shoulder. “When did you start seeing things?”

  “Seventeen. Maybe a little earlier. It wasn’t so bad in the beginning. Nothing like this.” Erin frowned. “I thought I was just crazy.”

  “Puberty,” Lyle said. “That’s consistent with the pattern for true psychics. It either starts around puberty or gets much more severe at that point.” He glanced at Derek nervously and adjusted his glasses. “From what I’ve read anyway.”

  “Then?” Derek asked around a mouthful of crunching potato chips.

  “It went away for a while. And then started up again. A few months ago. Right before I saw Sirian.”

  “You’re lying,” Derek said matter-of-factly.

  “What do you mean?” Erin asked.

  “It didn’t just go away.”

  Erin exhaled slowly. “No. I tried to kill myself. I thought I was crazy. Everyone did. They put me in the psych ward for a while and made me start taking—”

  Before she could finish the sentence, Derek had pulled something out of his pocket. Her empty pill bottle. Erin blushed.

  “These?” he said.

  Erin nodded. “Yeah. Those. And it all went away, so I figured they had to be right. If it was real, medication couldn’t stop it.”

  “Wrong,” Derek said.

  “What?”

  “Real psychics are sensitive to frequencies. Energy. They can align their own frequencies—the electromagnetic patterns of their brainwaves—with the frequencies of people around them. Sometimes with people on the other side of the planet,” Derek said. “They can also recognize demonic frequencies, the difference between human frequencies and vampire frequencies. It’s never-ending. But it’s all dependent on their frequencies first.”

  Erin stared at Derek and tried to look like she was catching on; she wasn’t.

  “But she’s a chemical system,” Lyle said. “And her electrical patterns were altered. By chemistry.”

  Derek tossed the pill bottle to Lyle. “Yes.”

  “What?” Erin asked.

  “The electrical patterns of your entire body are dependent on chemistry,” Lyle said. “You add these ...” He held up the pill bottle. “And it changes your chemistry. Alters your frequencies. I can imagine, actually, that it suppressed your natural frequencies rather effectively.” Lyle held the label up and examined it. When Erin didn’t say anything, he went on. “It made you not psychic. Kind of your own personal kryptonite.” He chuckled.

  Erin took the bottle out of his hand and looked down at it. “Well, can I just start taking it again? Would that make this stop? Like it did before?”

  “Nope,” Derek said. “They’ve already found you. Whoever they are. Seems they didn’t get a trace on you last time—pre-medication—but when you went off your pills, they got your number.” He held up the chip bag and shook the last crumbs into his mouth. “That’s when the Tower found you.”

  “The Tower?” Erin heard the exasperation in her voice. All she needed was another esoteric puzzle piece—just one more group of people or non-people who wanted something from her.

  “A bunch of sissies laying around all day with their psychic feelers out. Work for the Order. Usually, they track demons,” Derek said.

  “And that’s who you work for? The Order?” Erin asked.

  “Kind of. And the government. Sorta.”

  Erin frowned and found herself gazing at Derek’s dark blue, tetrachromatic eye. “Vampires are psychic then? Or are they tetrachromes?”

  “Some of ‘em,” Derek said. “Some more so.”

  “Some of which, though?”

  “Both,” Derek said. “The parasite cycles through different genes. Turns on the ones that are useful. Turns off the ones that aren’t. The older the vampire, the closer it is to its genetic ideal—the best the parasite can create from the genetic inheritance carried by that individual. So, if a vampire had a tetrachrome anywhere in its lineage, the parasite will eventually find a way to turn on that gene. Regardless of gender. But it takes time.”

  “So, Sirian is a tetrachrome?” Erin asked

  “He can see Primary demons?” Derek asked.

  “Yeah, the shadows. And the Elementals, too.”

  Derek shrugged. “All vampires and humans can see Elementals because they can see the forms of energy that Elementals take. Heat is visible. Electricity is visible. But if Fangs can see the Primaries, I’d say tetrachrome. Probably. Maybe psychic if it’s in the gene pool, but tetra’s more likely. More common.”

  Seven walked out of the bathroom and dropped something—a thick, greyish pink tube—onto the counter. It was about a foot and half long and same width as Erin’s thumb on one end, then tapered down to half that width on the other, where it split into a series of long, thin, strands.

  Lyle took a step back.

  “What is that?” Erin asked.

  “Spinal cord,” Seven said.

  Erin stepped back then, too, and stood beside Lyle. “Human spinal cord?” She looked at the bathroom door, where Seven had come from. “The body’s not still in there?”

  “Just a few pieces.”

  Erin felt sick to her stomach.

  “Watch.” Seven pulled out her lighter and held it to one end of the spinal cord.

  Erin felt like she ought to protest, like there was some kind of basic rule being broken, but she didn’t know what to say. Then she noticed the fire arching around the spinal cord, dissipating where it touched. Almost like it was being put out somehow.

  Lyle stepped up to the counter and leaned forward. “It’s shielded. Isn’t it? Some sort of fire-retardant?”

  Seven shook her head and watched the flame continue to bend around greyish pink tissue.

  “Ionizing radiation,” Derek said. “The entire body is saturated with it. Probably tied to excess radiocarbon, but we’d need a lab to say for sure.”

  “My goodness,” Lyle said. “Beta decay?”

  “Probably. It’s degrading the demon energy—and the fire—at a faster rate than the human tissue because they’re less stable to begin with.”

  “So, excess radiocarbon creating high levels of beta particles, therefore ionizing radiation. Removing electrons,” Lyle mumbled this to himself, working through the concept. “The radiation is suppressing the demon energy?”

  “More like siphoning it off,” Derek said. “It’s breaking down the human tissue, too, but since it’s at a slower rate, the radiation gives the Elemental a chance to take a walk.”

  “Wait,” Erin said, “shouldn’t that make it weaker? The Elemental?”

  “Sure,” Seven said. “But it’s worth it.”

  “Having a body means they can go anywhere, anytime. Sunlight or not.”

  “So, the radiation breaks down just enough of the demon energy to let them use the body for a while. The demon weakens itself, its own frequency, in order to possess a human—human tissue,” Lyle said.

  Seven snapp
ed off her lighter and nodded.

  Derek fiddled with one of the long, spindling strands of the spinal cord at one end. “This is usually the first part to start breaking down due to the electrical currents. Everything channels through the spine and basically fries it, but we could jump start the bus with this thing.”

  Erin grimaced.

  “The body will have a short life span due to the radiation. I’d guess a week,” Seven said.

  “Long enough to go sunbathing,” Derek added.

  Lyle leaned in closer yet, positioning his face inches away from the specimen, and flattened the first button on his shirt. “Splendid.”

  “And you’ve never seen anything like this before?” Erin asked.

  “Nope.”

  “And you don’t know what the Nine is?”

  “No idea.”

  “But somehow it’s all connected to a mountain in Austria?”

  “Only one way to find out,” Derek said, dropping the end of the spinal cord and gulping down the last of his Tang.

  Chapter 18

  Directed and financed by the twins, Erin booked a flight to Vienna, Austria, for noon the next day. They also provided her with a fake passport in order to bypass any problems created by the Missing Persons Report her parents had filed. Erin packed so sparingly that everything fit into a backpack, including the demon taser the twins sent with her. Erin worried she would get stopped in the security check, but the twins insisted there wouldn’t be a problem—and she chose to trust them. She also had some concerns about getting through security looking like she had been hit by a train, but then Seven pulled out the last thing on earth Erin expected: a makeup kit. The cosmetics were professional grade. The kit included thousands of colors, and some extra tools and materials Erin had never seen before. One of these was a silky paste that Seven applied to the areas on Erin’s face with the most damage, layering the makeup until the split on her cheek and chin appeared smooth. Then she applied several coats of foundation, followed by some shimmery stuff, and mascara. After Seven was finished, Erin felt like her face was glued on, but she looked good—for the first time since Sirian hit her in the alley behind the apartment complex. The twins had initially arranged to go with her, but they received a government call at the last minute that resulted in Erin flying solo. So, they shoved her through the first security check with a promise to meet in Vienna the next day. Erin felt a pang of anxiety, but she didn’t let herself slow down. She simply walked through security without a backward glance and kept moving. The flight was boarding by the time she found the correct gate, so Erin swiftly made her way onto the plane and found her seat. She placed her backpack in her lap, pressed her left side against the window, and waited. It seemed like hours before she felt that sweeping pressure-lift into the moody grey sky. Almost as soon as the plane leveled out, Erin fell asleep. She used to have some anxiety about flying, but this time midair felt like the one place on earth she could relax. Nothing was walking through the door. Through the window. Through the wall. This was a closed environment. No surprises. And it would stay that way until the plane touched the ground again.