Immortal Earth (Vampires For Earth Book 1)

by Warden, Sarah

  My daughters do not know their own strength. They feel some sense of it, something different about themselves, but they do not know that they are the carriers of my immortal fire.

  ELEVEN

  The Edison Illumination Ball was being held on Belle Isle in the Detroit River, and as soon as Isi’s carriage had begun to cross the bridge to the Isle, the hanging lights that were strung up along all sides of the bridge lit up.

  Conscious that this should be a shocking feat of technology to a woman truly from 1888, Isi said, “My god in heavens, what a beautiful display Mr. Edison is putting on for us this evening, don’t you think?”

  “Yes ma’am, that it is,” the carriage driver replied. He paused for a moment, before he turned around in his seat to address her again. “Countess Solovyov, what time would you like me to bring the carriage back around for you?”

  When Isi did not respond, he continued, “Or I could wait for you here, Countess? I am entirely at your disposal.”

  “That would be most kind of you. Thank you,” Isi said.

  The scent of jasmine filled the air, as the carriage made its way through the acres of landscaped gardens. The horses instinctively slowed their gait, as the road turned to paved brick and curved around to reveal the largest, and most intricately designed, tent that Isi had ever seen. Rising out of the forest and carefully arranged gardens, was a giant structure of billowing white material, framed to the shape of an elaborate Victorian mansion.

  Isi pulled her shawl over her bare shoulders, as the carriage slowed to a stop.

  The driver came to the side of the carriage, and assisted Isi as she exited it. Carefully, she made her way down the stone walkway toward the mansion size tent where the Illumination Ball was being held. Isi had not worn heels once in her whole life, and her dress was so pinched at the waist that every breath was painful, but she wobbled bravely, and stiffly, forward, clutching another antique and impractical relic, her cream colored silk purse, overlaid with lace.

  At the entrance to the garden tent, two butlers dressed in the servant version of a tuxedo bowed to Isi as she walked by. Isi squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, took a deep breath, and struck a pose worthy of the Russian noble that she was pretending to be.

  Countess Isidora Solovyov entered the ball.

  Inside, it was the most magnificent vision. The tent had been erected atop a particularly lush section of the garden that contained a large patio, which had now been transformed into a dance floor. The outdoors had been brought inside, temporarily.

  The ceiling of the tent had been painted black, and Edison light bulbs had been affixed in a pattern designed to emulate the constellations. Isi could make out the Little Dipper and Orion, already, but she didn’t want the first impression that she left at the ball to be that of a gaping mouth simpleton, so she didn’t allow her eyes to linger, much as she would have liked to. Strange that such a simple technology, something over two hundred years in Isi’s past, could have such an impact on her, but the atmosphere in the room was contagious. To the people of this time, light that did not carry the risk of fire, light that you could even attach to highly flammable material, like a tent, was quite the miracle, and the crowd’s enthusiasm had Isi looking up in wonder like a child.

  A slender dark haired man in a tuxedo was watching Isi watch the artificial stars. When she tilted her head back down and reined herself in, clutching her purse and scanning the crowd nervously, looking for Henry Ford, the dark haired man approached her from behind.

  He cleared his throat to get her attention, and said, “Pardon me, madam, are you in need of some assistance?”

  Isi started to respond before she turned to face him, “Yes, if you could help me to find …”

  Her voice trailed off as Isi came face-to-face with the man.

  His dark hair was not waxen and still, as it had been in the photographs that Isi had studied. Wavy and alive, strands of mahogany and chestnut gave a sturdy frame for the sharp grey eyes below. His brow and nose were pinched together in concentration, making him look quite like a hawk, but a hawk with the most full and questioning lips that Isi had ever seen. Such a force of life flowed out of this man; the very air around him was pregnant with invention.

  Isi finished her thought, “If you could help me to find a decent glass of champagne, I shall be very grateful.”

  The young dark haired man laughed, “That should not be too hard, Mrs. …”

  Isi nodded and extended her gloved hand to him, “I am Countess Isidora Solovyov.”

  The young man bowed to her, while he clasped her offered hand in his own, and held her fingertips a breaths distance from his lips. “Henry Ford, at your service, Countess. Let us go and see about your champagne, shall we? And then, promise me that you’ll take another moment to look at the constellations we’ve brought inside for the night. Tom’s invention lets us hold the stars, and fire, and all of light, in our own two hands.”

  Isi teased him a bit to establish a rapport.

  “You speak of Mr. Edison … Tom … as if you know him? Surely, a man your age may long for an association with a man of such historic importance as Mr. Edison … you may long for it, Mr. Ford, but I highly doubt that you have achieved it.”

  Henry laughed again, that wonderful deflection of the very confident. All of life was not a joke to Henry Ford, but the idea that he was reaching above his station – indeed, the very idea that there were stations in life unattainable to those with originality, intelligence, and drive … that idea was so absurd as to be laughable to him. Nevertheless, in front of a beautiful woman, Henry was always polite.

  “I am sorry Countess, I do not mean to laugh, but I not only know Thomas Edison, I’ve worked for him in his laboratory and, most recently, he has been consulting with me on an invention of mine that I hope to bring forth soon. I may be only twenty-four years of age, and I was not born into a family with as illustrious a lineage as, I’m sure, you have come from, but, on this continent, we regard the individual achievement above the family bloodline.”

  Henry winked at her, to take the sting from his words. “But, what we value most highly is only produced by your end of the ocean, Countess … a good champagne! Let us go and find you one, shall we?”

  Delicately, but firmly, with the exquisite hands of the engineer he was, Henry Ford took Isi by the elbow, and guided her through the dancing couples, around a number of flowering trees, and under an archway built of flowers that was strung with more of the Edison lights, where they entered a room that served as a bar for the Illumination Ball.

  After he saw Isi safely seated in a high-backed booth table, in the corner of the room, Henry went to the bar and, following an exchange with the bartender, procured a bottle of champagne, two flutes, and a bucket of ice. Bringing these to the table, he popped the cork on the champagne with a flourish, and poured a glass for each of them.

  Henry sat down across from Isi and said, “May I propose a toast?”

  Isi smiled, and nodded slowly.

  “To Mr. Thomas Edison, my dear friend, with much thanks for all of his marvelous inventions, and a special thanks for his incandescent light bulb that allows men, such as I, to truly appreciate all of the classic planes and angles of such a beautiful face as yours, Countess Solovyov.”

  Henry raised his flute to hers, and Isi agreed to the ceremonial clinking of glasses, with a skeptical and amused smile on her face.

  “Yes, to Mr. Edison,” Isi said, “and please, do tell me Mr. Ford, how it is that you are acquainted with your nations most brilliant inventor?”

  Henry Ford leaned forward across the table, his whole body tensed toward her with the bridled power of the idea that he was about to divulge.

  “Thomas, and I, have been working on a project together for the better part of a year now. He’s been developing a battery that could be recharged in every home, using the tremendous electric grid that’s under development. And, I have been working on a kind of horseless carriage that could b
e powered using Tom’s battery. I was working on a steam powered carriage, but Tom’s the one with the laboratory, so we may go with his idea … for now,” Henry finished in a disdainful, but not defeated, tone.

  Isi shook her head in amazement. “You poor thing, you may have to use the great Thomas Edison’s idea? Silly boy, hubris is becoming on no man,” she said, still shaking her head. In a kinder tone, Isi continued, “Be that as it may, your idea of a horseless carriage is quite the interesting one, I’ll grant you that. Though, I would obviously defer to Thomas Edison when it comes to the means to power such a creation.”

  “There is no need to defer to a man, based solely on his name, Countess Solovyov,” Henry said. “In science, all that matters is the truth – provable, replicable, truth. If Thomas Edison’s battery works better for the horseless carriage that I’ve designed, we will use that. If, however, my steam engine is the better fit, the unknown nature of my name will be no impediment upon the usefulness of my invention. That’s the beauty of this wonderful intersection of profit and science that the world is experiencing now … any man can be a king, if he has a useful idea, and the drive to bring it to fruition.”

  Isi smiled at Henry. Quite true, she thought, more true than you can even imagine – but such kings can destroy a world, just as easily as they can build one.

  “So, Mr. Henry Ford,” Isi said, “you think that you have a useful idea? Your drive is evident, but this horseless carriage of yours … where is it? Did you ride in one to the ball this evening?” Isi asked, a look of kind skepticism on her face.

  Henry tilted his head down toward the table between them, turned his champagne in his hand, and watched the reflected light play out across the burnished wood. He was not sure how much of a risk he wanted to take with this woman. He had already spoken to her of his invention more freely than he had with anyone, except for Thomas Edison and Henry’s own wife, Clara Ford. Henry was not worried about divulging his scientific secrets, though he should be. No, his thoughts were consumed by the romantic risk that he was about to take. Married for only a few months to Clara, Henry was finding himself drawn to the Countess Isidora Solovyov in a powerful, and inexplicable, way. He had never felt like this, instantly, at the first sight of a woman.

  She knows me … she knows all of me … but, how? How is that possible?

  Unanswered questions do not sit well in the life of any scientist, and Henry needed an answer.

  “I confess, Countess, I did come here the old fashioned way, this evening …” Henry said.

  Isi cut him off, “Do call me Isidora, Henry.”

  He looked up at her, and smiled, “Isidora,” he smiled again, “as I was saying, I did take the usual horse-drawn carriage to the ball this evening, but I would very much like to get your first hand opinion of the horseless carriage that I’ve been working on. You seem to be a woman of the most rare intelligence, and I would highly value your input.”

  He fixed Isi with one of the most direct and commanding stares that she had ever been subject to, and continued, “You must come to my workshop, and soon, Isidora.”

  Act like a great man is nothing, and he will soon think that you are his everything.

  Isi smiled at the memory of her mother’s advice; advice that was serving Isi so well on this night, hundreds of years before it was given.

  “I may have some time available for you, early next week,” Isi said, “but I cannot promise you anything, Henry. My husband, Count Solovyov, and I, are here to try to expand our own business, since the appetite for good Russian vodka has been growing so steadily in your country, of late.”

  Isi looked down at her hands, and nervously pulled on her gloves, needing their tightness to enclose and fortify her for her next words.

  “That being said, I am in the liquor trade by marriage, but I have always been a woman of science, at heart … strange, isn’t it, that the heart should be so far from what the mind chooses to marry …”

  Isi sighed and looked into the distance.

  Henry Ford’s once confident demeanor had been deflated considerably over the past few minutes; rising in joy at every implication that Isi’s marriage was an unhappy one, and crashing back to earth with every sign that she would not agree to see him in private. He was hooked on the line of one woman, and she was about to reel him in.

  “In any event, Henry, yes, I would love to see your workshop. Count Solovyov will be traveling north, to Canada, this coming Monday, so my day should be free, if you could accommodate a visit then?”

  The fish leapt off of the line, and danced through the air on fins of joy.

  “Marvelous,” Henry said, “we shall make a day of it!”

  Isi was blushing, overwhelmed and flattered by Henry’s excitement. She reached next to her and retrieved her purse. Mission accomplished, she had to make a graceful exit now.

  “Well, Mr. Ford, I must say that I’ve had quite the interesting evening, much thanks to you. I do think, though, that the hour has grown late, and I must excuse myself. Until Monday then, Henry?”

  Isi stood up from the booth that they’d been occupying. Henry Ford stood as well, took Isi’s hand in his, and brought it close to his lips.

  “These next five days cannot pass quickly enough, Countess.”

  Henry guided Isi through the maze of dancing couples in the starlit tent, and out to her waiting carriage.

  As he watched her horse-car pull away, Henry muttered, “Damn it all to hell, she is the most striking woman that I have ever met … positively bewitching.”

  Henry stood and stared after Isi’s carriage, long after it had passed from his sight.

  TWELVE

  Afon Solovyov’s lithe six-foot frame was pacing, up and down the apartment, from one end to the other, stopping only occasionally to thrust his head through the open living room window to inhale deeply … straining to catch the first notes of Isi’s scent that would herald her return to him.

  Nanook K’eyush had folded his enormous self into a delicate Victorian side chair, and was perched in concentration over a chessboard, seated opposite from Jian Hu. Jian was studiously ignoring Afon’s agitated pacing, and stayed focused on teaching Nanook the basics of chess.

  “The knight cannot move that way,” Jian said. “Only the bishop and queen may move diagonally, in an unlimited fashion. The king may move in any direction, but only one square at a time. And that errant knight of yours may only move like this …” Jian’s hands sketched out an L shape on the chessboard in front of them.

  Nanook grunted, “That’s ridiculous! This game gives all of the power to the queen, but it’s the king who must be kept alive in order to win. And this binding of the knight’s movements … unrealistic; a man on horseback, with a sword in his hand, may go wherever he damn well pleases.”

  Jian smiled, Nanook had become quite fond of the century that they were currently in … and especially fond of the horses that were so ubiquitous in this time period, and so completely extinct in 2112.

  “Be that as it may, my friend,” Jian said, “in this game, these are the rules, realistic or not. Perhaps you would consider that the obstacles presented in chess are much like those presented in life, only in this game the rules are clearly written.”

  Before Nanook could respond, Afon announced, “She’s coming!”

  Afon had caught Isi’s scent from a mile away, and busied himself with lighting a fire, so as not to appear like he had been waiting for her.

  She was just doing her duty, nothing to be jealous about, Afon repeated to himself for the hundredth time since Isi had left his side a few hours before.

  Nanook and Jian exchanged a knowing look across the chessboard. Nanook yawned, “Too much philosophy at this hour for my blood Jian, but the game does intrigue me. Care to finish this tomorrow night? I’m off to bed.”

  “Absolutely,” Jian said, “I think that I’ll be calling it a night as well.”

  They both turned to say goodnight to Afon, but he didn’t hear th
em. His ears were tuned for only one sound; his whole body was tensed in one direction, waiting for Isi.

  The sound of Nanook and Jian’s footsteps had barely finished echoing down the hallway, when Afon’s ears picked up the telltale clop-clop-clop of the horses that were pulling Isi’s carriage down the road.

  Only a few minutes away.

  Afon sat down on the sofa in their living room, and picked up a copy of Darwin’s Origin of the Species that Isi had left out for all of them to read. Darwin’s theories were the subject of much parlor discussion currently and, whatever time they occupied, the Immortals and Isi were determined to be thoroughly of the time, totally immersed in whatever was current, so as to draw the least amount of attention to themselves.

  Afon skimmed the text and listened, as Isi’s carriage pulled up and came to a stop. Her steps sounded careful exiting onto the cobblestones. Those damn heels, Afon thought.

  One slow step at a time, Isi approached up the stairs to their apartment. Afon took a deep breath and held it, as he heard the door open.

  All of the Immortals had senses akin to the most fierce and finely tuned apex predator that nature had ever produced. The nanobots inside of Afon not only fixed any injury that he sustained, and nipped any disease in the bud as soon as it started, they had also molded his entire bodily system into a state of perfection, right from the day that they were first injected.

  Afon knew that he would be overwhelmed with sensory input, as soon as Isi walked in the door. He would know, with one sniff of the air, where she had been, what she had eaten, whom she had been with, who had touched her … and so Afon did not breathe until Isi had entered their apartment, and taken a seat next to him.

  Isi crossed her legs at the ankle, and tilted her body to the side, still embodying the demure nineteenth century lady that she had been acting at all evening.

  “So, how was your night, my love?” Isi said, and laughed. “Or would you rather that I just tell you how my night went, since yours was probably spent here, waiting for me?”