Foolishly, I flew out a window of our home to retrieve a vial of potion from my safe deposit box. When I returned, I downed the potion at our front door and then entered. The house was empty; my wife and adopted son were missing. I rushed to the neighbors and he informed me that Nazis had taken them while I was away—our four-year-old son fighting and screaming for me. As my memory faded, I was lost as to why we had been targeted, and I was powerless to do anything about it. Not only did I never see my family again, but also the bank where I left the remaining vial of potion was blown up shortly after.
Now, with my memory intact for the first time since, I realized that they were probably taken because someone had witnessed my flight out of the window and tracked me to my stash of potion. Perhaps it had been a soldier patrolling the streets, but I had a strong suspicion that it was somebody working for Samael's company or maybe even Samael himself, which was quite possible now that I knew he was alive.
"Mike?" Karen's voice cut through my thoughts.
"Yes?" I answered. She sat next to me and reached her hand to my face. Her finger was wet when she pulled it away.
"Is this a tear on your cheek?"
"I wish, but it's probably just moisture from the glass. I've never been able to cry." I wiped under my eye, and sure enough, it was dry.
"What are you, some sci-fi creature? Does not compute, does not compute. Your face blanked out for a second. What's wrong?"
"Let's just say that immortality isn't all it's cracked up to be. Experiences add up, and a thousand years of pain can drown you, let alone ten-thousand. Humans are lucky to die, in my opinion."
"Drink your blood and stop wallowing in self pity," she ordered. "You have a daughter to think of. Let's take care of that first, and get to the psych crap later." I liked her method of distraction and take-charge attitude.
"You're right. If it's really okay with you for her to come here, I need to send her the address." Karen gave me the address and I texted it to Lori.
Instantly she sent a reply, "C'ya soon!" I looked up and found Karen staring at me intently.
"What is it now? Is my mascara running?" I asked.
"No. You pulled a fast one on me last night." A cold shiver sliced through me.
"What do you mean?" I asked, hoping I didn't sound nervous as visions of my dead boss and his crazy demon wife swam through my head.
"You never told me why you were out flying naked."
"I didn't want to upset you."
"I have to know." There was concern in her eyes.
"I went to settle matters with my wife and the guy she was cheating on me with."
"Naked?"
"No, that happened later."
"Did you hurt them?"
"Honestly, Karen, I wanted to kill them, but when I got there and saw how much in love they were, I couldn't."
"That's good. Personally, I don't think you would have killed them even if they weren't in love. You're not that kind of man. So how did you end up naked?"
While I wasn't going to volunteer the information, she had asked, so I had to answer. If there was a future for us, I didn't want a closet full of bones wrecking it.
"I went to see the wife of my former boss," I said.
"Why?"
"To show her a video…" I stopped. The memory stick was in my pants, which were now at the bottom of a lake. Shit! In the madness, I had forgotten about it. Hopefully it wouldn't come back to haunt me. I didn't want anything to jeopardize my newly established custody agreement.
"A video of what?" Karen asked.
"Well," I tried to recover. "Of her husband attempting to sexually assault the receptionist."
"What?" She sounded shocked.
"My boss made a crude sex video, but never showed his face in it. The complicated part is that he dubbed my voice in, trying to make it appear as if I was doing the deed. Luckily, the editing was piss-poor and his fat belly showed up in a frame."
"Holy shit. How did she take that?"
"She killed him." Karen placed a hand over her mouth and looked at me horrified. "Now for the really complicated part; she wasn't human. She's a demon, meaning a weak one of my kind, disguised as a human. Apparently I am the subject of some mysterious plot." Karen was silent, most likely with skepticism. "I had to get rid of my clothes because when I tried to protect him, his blood got all over me"
"Wow," she managed to say.
"I don't think they expected me to go to his house," I continued. "I just wanted to be sure Jack would leave the receptionist alone. She's a good lady, single mom…he would have destroyed her."
"Couldn't you have just told her to file a complaint?" Karen asked, recovered somewhat.
"No, Jack was too slick for that. He would have trashed her reputation." I paused, letting her process the information. "I know this is a shock, and if you want me to go, I understand."
"Did you call the police?"
"And tell them what?"
She considered before speaking. "I see your point. That's why you said last night that you think others like you are around?"
"Yes."
"I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen your true identity. Why would they go through all the trouble of a fake marriage and making a fake video?"
"The only thing that I can figure out is they wanted a good excuse to fire me. Ricka, the demon, said he was supposed to fire me gently and send me to the company."
"The company?" She looked perplexed.
"Don't ask me. Once I find my own place and get settled in, I'll do some research and figure things out."
"They want something from you. Any idea what it could be?"
"Yeah, the potion that made me human."
She leaned forward and said, "Maybe just give it to them. That way you and your daughter will have nothing to worry about." Coming from anyone else, her words would have come off as a threat.
"I don't have it."
"Oh." She relaxed back in her chair, and then I heard a phone ring somewhere in the main house. "Wonderful. It's probably work. I'll be right back."
She stood and walked out of the small apartment, going for a landline somewhere in the house I assumed. The phone continued to ring for nearly a minute, and then I heard a door close, followed by silence. Wherever she had gone, I couldn't hear the conversation. I reached for the glass of blood, took a long drink, and waited patiently for her return.
Chapter 11
Karen spent the next few hours combing over me as if I were a lab rat. She examined my eyes, my ears, my nose, my mouth, and even wanted to examine lower in the name of science, but I drew the line on that. I felt that such prodding might destroy any romantic feelings, or more likely, the exam would become a spontaneous moment of passion. A normal male would probably jump at such an opportunity, but something was holding me back. I couldn't place a finger on exactly what it was though.
"Okay," she said. "Let's check your weight. Step on the scale." In the corner of the room, she had a large scale that looked like the industrial weighing platform used on the shop floor where I used to work.
"What are you weighing in here, elephants?" I asked, stepping up on the stainless steal rectangle.
"You never know what might come along. Work was getting rid of it, so I took it." She checked the digital readout. "Exactly two-hundred and twenty pounds."
"Always is," I said.
"I have a theory."
"What?"
"Well, since nothing can permeate your skin, you must be really dense."
"I've been called that once or twice."
She chuckled. "No, I mean your molecular structure. I think you weigh much more than two-twenty."
"That's not what the scale says."
"Have you ever seen those bugs that skim across water in ponds? They stay on the surface, effortlessly gliding at incredible speeds. They don't consciously keep themselves from sinking, but have evolved the ability to walk on water without any thought of it."
"I'm not following you."
"Like them, I think your body always calibrates itself to two-hundred and twenty, and then uses your levitation ability to nullify anything over that."
"So I'm always flying?"
"No, it's more like maintaining neutral buoyancy similar to a fish. I want to know how much you really weigh, and I was thinking that if you concentrate, you may be able to turn that buoyancy off."
"I don't know…"
"Try. See if you can just let go."
"Anything for science." I relaxed my mind and my muscles, and pictured myself being solidly on the ground. Slowly a sinking feeling came over me.
"Two-fifty!" she blurted out. "Damn, sorry…it just went back to two-twenty."
I refocused and tried again. This time she was smart enough to keep quiet, and it went well for several minutes, but then the platform collapsed under me. I stumbled, regained my balance, and stepped onto the floor. Karen was looking at me, disbelief in her eyes.
"Sorry about that," I said.
"You maxed the scale out at thirteen-hundred pounds! God knows how much weight was on it when it broke!" She slid the scale aside, revealing broken hardwood planks underneath. "Jesus, you would have gone straight through the floor if the scale hadn't broken and startled you."
"I'll pay to have it fixed."
"Don't worry about it. When we have a chance, we need to get you to a truck stop. They have huge scales."
"Sounds like a date."
When she was finally satisfied that there was nothing else she could learn about me outside of a hospital—she eventually wanted an MRI, full-body CT scan, and even hinted at a colonoscopy to my dismay—I broached the subject of what Nostradamus had done for me in exchange for my plague-curing venom. I hoped Karen and I could reach a similar agreement.
"But you can look human whenever you want," she said. "Why take away your memory and live like one of us? It would be like me wanting to turn into a monkey. It doesn't make sense."
"Memories are not all good. Wouldn't you like to forget bad things?"
"No. Both good and bad makes me who I am. For the really bad stuff, I would just seek out therapy, not amnesia."
"Please, try and understand," I said. She sighed and placed a hand over mine.
"I am trying. To be honest, I don't see how any potion could cause change in you. I could feed you a gallon of strychnine and you wouldn't feel a thing. Do you have any idea what the formula was?"
"He refused to tell me."
"Maybe he just hypnotized you into believing it would work?"
"I don't have a brain like yours that can be hypnotized. I've had people try several times."
"For what, to make you forget?"
"Maybe. Any other ideas?" I asked.
"Yeah, he used magic, and I'm no magician."
"Magic doesn't exist, just technology, and as they say, if it's advanced enough then it may appear to be magic." She was silent for a long moment. "Still with me, Karen?"
"Yeah, but what you just said got me thinking. Is it possible that he had some sort of advanced technology?"
"I don't see how."
"Could he have been one of you, maybe?"
"Impossible, and if he was, then he could have just used his own venom to cure the plague victims."
"Unless your venom is the only one with healing properties?
"Actually, that's possible, but still, if he was like me I would have known."
"Whether he was or not, Nostradamus was something other than normal. He affected change in your body, which in my opinion seems magical because I can't do it, so that means it was advanced technology according to your wisdom. Are you sure you can't remember anything unusual about him?"
I started to respond, but shut my mouth. She had pointed out something that I had pushed away into a dark corner, which was the understanding that nothing known on Earth could change me, but somehow Nostradamus had changed me. I had been living for centuries in the comfort of a denial that had just been shattered.
"Well?" she asked.
"You're right. He either was someone from another world, or had access to a technology that doesn't exist anymore. For the life of me though, I can't think of anything odd about him that would indicate he wasn't human."
"Didn't your mama ever tell you not to take candy from strangers?"
"What Mama?"
"Point taken."
"Maybe he knew I would lose the last vial," I speculated. "Since he predicted cataclysm during these times, he may have felt that I would need my memory in order to help humanity through it."
"Very possible, unless of course he saw you as the reason for that cataclysm."
"Never," I said.
"Or maybe it's all bullshit, and he was just an old man sitting around, getting high and making stories up." The doorbell rang. "Come on, that must be your daughter. And don't worry, we'll solve this mystery." She stood and kissed me on the cheek.
Karen beat me to the door, ripping it open like a mother anxiously waiting for a child to return from college. "You must be Lori!" she exclaimed, taking my daughter into her arms.
Lori glanced at me over Karen's shoulder with a look in her eyes that said, who in the hell is this crazy chick? I stepped forward and eased Karen back. Lori jumped forward and wrapped her arms around my waist, but my attention was diverted to the rumbling Mustang in the street with the dark-haired boy behind the wheel.
"Who is that?" I asked. Lori dropped her arms, turned around, and waved. The boy gave a mock salute and rumbled away.
"That's Shane. Shane Reilly. He's a nice guy." I saw a glow in her eyes that I didn't like as she watched the car fade into the distance.
"I thought Jenny would bring you. Since when are you driving around with guys? You're only fifteen."
"Dad!" Lori exclaimed.
"Mike, let a girl have some fun," Karen said. "I'm sure Lori can take care of herself." At that moment, Karen formed an instant bond with my daughter.
"Why didn't he walk you to the door?" I asked.
"He's shy."
Karen picked up Lori's small suitcase and invited her in. "I have just the room for you," she said.
"Shy my butt. He knows he shouldn't be moving in on a fifteen-year-old girl, and he's worried your dad will kick his ass."
"No one is moving in on me, and I'm not a girl."
"Well, you're not a woman."
"Do you like the house?" Karen interjected.
"It's incredible!" Lori exclaimed, flamboyantly turning her back on me.
"Come on then. Let's get you settled." With Karen leading the way, Lori followed her up the stairs, leaving me to fume about a boy named Shane Reilly. With a grunt of disgust, I shut the door and followed them.
Chapter 12
Lori was delighted with the first bedroom that I had declined earlier. I stopped just inside the doorway and smiled. My daughter was lying in the bed on top of the light pink flowered comforter with her arms stretched wide. She glowed with happiness. Karen was in the process of opening the window to air out the room.
"Isn't this fantastic, Dad?" Lori asked.
"It's very nice, but don't get used to it. We're guests, remember?"
"Oh nonsense," Karen said. "Make yourself at home."
"So," Lori said, sitting up. "What's the deal with you two?" An awkward moment arose out of nowhere. Karen and I looked at each other, and then back to the smiling girl.
"Deal?" I asked.
"Yeah. Like how did you end up living together? Are you dating? When did you meet?"
"I'm a scientist," Karen said. "I met your dad at my work yesterday, and learned of his special gift. I asked if I could study him in exchange for a room." Nicely done, I thought.
"That's it?" Lori asked, sounding disappointed. I felt a twinge of disappointment myself.
"That's it," Karen said with a glance in my direction.
"You two are funny. There's more. I can tell."
"Believe what you want. Is anyone hungry?" I asked. It was approach
ing dinnertime and I knew that Lori would be hungry after a long day at school.
"Starving," Karen said. "How about we go out and celebrate the reuniting of father and daughter?"
"Awesome!" Lori exclaimed.
"Well let's get ready then," Karen replied.
With my lack-of-clothes crisis in full swing—made worse since I had drown my only decent ones—Karen rummaged through a closet and found some casual wear left by her ex. I went to my room and put them on, and although they were a little snug in the waist, I was surprised at how well they fit my tall frame.
I really didn't want to visit my soon-to-be ex-wife again anytime soon, so a shopping trip would be required. First, I would have to retrieve some funds from one of my stashes. A person can accumulate tons of trinkets in ten-thousand years. Most of what I had was still in Europe, some in the Middle East, but I had brought a little with me when I moved to the States. I just had to find the time to exhume it from the graveyard, which I had discovered is an excellent place to safeguard one's savings.
I was ready to go well before them, so I made my way downstairs for some exploration. The house was huge, with cavernous rooms tastefully furnished with decadent furniture. Karen's former husband obviously liked to display his success for all to see. I walked into the living room where a fireplace and its ornate mantel dominated the far wall. Above the mantel was a huge reproduction that I recognized of Giotto's 13th century fresco depicting the death of St. Francis. It seemed an unusual piece, in a morbid sense, to have hovering in constant view. St. Francis lay dead on a slab, surrounded by mourners and angels above. I looked close at the sky, and sure enough, the reproduction was true to the original in that the image of Satan was deftly disguised as part of a cloud. Other than a recliner and couch, the room was bare, with its sole purpose seeming to be the display of the dead St. Francis—or the all-seeing Satan.
Another thing that I couldn't help but notice was that there was no dust anywhere. From a long life, I knew that combating dust was a never-ending endeavor. I wondered if Karen did the chore herself, or if she had a house cleaner and a gardener. I made it a point to ask her. I turned to go check on the women, but then I heard a vehicle pull into the circular drive out front.
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