“Yes, Scarface.” He sniffed the lapel of his jacket then crinkled his nose. “You’ve already stained me with your noxious filth. I’ll have to burn these clothes. Your stench will never come out.” He unlocked the elevator by pressing a PIN number into a keypad, and the doors opened. He ushered us inside.
The elevator slightly shook before ascending smoothly to the top floor. When the door opened, we crossed a marble-inlay foyer to a gargantuan, mahogany door. Carved into its surface were swirls of writhing bodies, warped limbs, and grimacing faces. Grotesque.
“Where are we?” I asked.
Alex unlocked the door. “The Spencer Building.”
“It’s so… depressing.”
“This building was erected in memory of Nathan Abarron’s wife, Eleanor Spencer. Well, that’s the English name Abarron selected for her. Anyway, she died.”
“Died. How?”
“Though rare, death for us is possible.”
The guy had to spend eternity without his wife. Pfft. Like I’d feel sorry for him. He changed the world, and not in a good way. “So, he had the building named after her.”
“He usually selects at least one structure on each planet we inhabit.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Impressed?”
“Yeah, well, I never suspected he’d be sentimental.”
He paused. “He’s not. Though he used to be.”
“You don’t like him?”
A sigh was the only answer he gave.
“So, this is his dead wife’s building. Wait. Does that mean he lives here too?” My insides roiled.
“No, thank goodness.”
“You really don’t like him.”
His face scrunched more.
We entered the suite. The door automatically closed behind us, and the lock engaged. Like the hallway, the floor was paved in marble.
“Don’t try to leave. You need a passcode to exit,” Alex said.
“Why?” I asked.
He lobbed another glare at me. Guess he wasn’t used to explaining himself to mortals. “You’re extremely curious for an Anemie. Suffice it to say you’re not my first… guest.”
My stomach dropped. I didn’t want to know what he meant by that. “Why did you bring me here? Isn’t Sammie at the lab?”
“I said it’s too dangerous. Or had you not understood?”
He abandoned me at the door and strode to an armoire on the far wall. Inside was a safe. He spun the dial right-left-right and opened the door, removing a bunch of vials and a syringe.
“I have something you’re interested in,” I guessed.
“Indeed.” He drew close to me. “Roll up your sleeve.”
He stood patiently with his hands clasped in front of him, knowing I had no chance of winning if I said no. Throat dry, I lifted my arm to him.
“I’ll give you something first. Once this kicks in, I can stitch up your wounds. This here is a combo drug. It contains the pain med and a little something to counter the effects of toxin. Might help us avoid a transfusion. We’ll see.” He escorted me to a table on the right side of the open room. “Take off you shirt.”
I complied and lay on the table. I sort of felt like a feast waiting to be served at the dinner hour.
Neither of us spoke while he worked, fixing the mess Scarface—I meant Richard—had made across my stomach and back with neat stitches.
Afterward he said, “Good as new, sort of.”
He left the room and appeared a moment later with a blue dress shirt. He tossed it at me. “Here. One of mine. It was a gift. I hate it.”
I tugged the shirt on. It would fit if I had decent muscles and stood a few inches taller. As it was, I could wrap the cuff around my wrist twice. “Thanks.”
He nodded, appreciating me. “Looks good on you.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
He suppressed a smirk.
The meds coursed through my veins, soothing the ache tightening my muscles and weighing down my limbs. Within an hour, I was able to walk around the sunken, circular-shaped living room, relieved to move without feeling like I’d collapse at any moment. My footsteps echoed. The mark of mortality. Alex’s didn’t. I halted and ducked my head. He caught my shame.
“Why do you hide, Anemie? It’s not like your noise can be ignored.” He actually sounded sympathetic.
I gestured to his feet. “How come you don’t make any sound when you move?”
“We learn stealth at a young age in our immortality. It helps us catch our prey.”
Squeezing my eyes shut didn’t turn off my imagination—Vie hunting, shudder—so I opened them again. “Catch? I thought you drank Red Springs… or are you a Crimson Crush man?”
“Synthetic blood is boring. I have more refined tastes.” Alex watched my reaction—disgust mixed with a healthy dose of fear—with a satisfied smile playing at his mouth. “Why ask questions if you know you won’t like the answer?”
“I want to understand you.”
“So you can figure out how to beat me?” He played at his fang with his tongue.
“I can’t beat you,” I whispered, shoulders slumping.
“You look exhausted.” Alex spread a blanket out on the couch. “Sit on the blanket. You’ll ruin the fabric otherwise, and I’ve just had the furniture redone.”
“I suppose you’re pretty pissed at me for staking you,” I blurted.
“We’ll get to that later. I told you to sit down.” He waved a hand, mouth tugging down.
Though not compelled by his command in the slightest, standing around like a sludge brain was stupid, so I sat where he wanted.
Alex turned on the steel fireplace and adjusted the lighting dimmer. Pot lights illuminated paintings, a trio of large vases centered along the far wall, and a tank filled with water and coral. All of it cold and devoid of life.
“So, where’s your torture chamber? I thought that was a staple in every Vie home.” I flexed my hands. Dirt and dried blood had caked under my fingernails.
“I could show you if you’d like.” He showed his fangs.
I gulped. “You don’t really have one, do you?”
His deep, rumbling laugh clashed with the surroundings. He stared at my fingers. “When was the last time you bathed? Too much trouble to wash your hands regularly, is it?”
I closed my hands into fists, hiding the stains, heat flaring in my cheeks. I shifted in my seat. I shouldn’t let him pick on me or let him make me feel less than human, even if I was. I shifted in my seat, missing the comfortable press of a stake against my leg. What I wouldn’t give to have another chance at plunging it in his heart.
Something red streaked out of the corner of my eye. The most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen paused near the fireplace, her sensuous pout collapsing into a sneer of repulsion when she caught sight of me.
Her red hair fell in waves and nearly touched her ass. Stiletto heels accentuated her long, slim legs. Designer quality clothes restrained her curves. “Bear, I thought I’d heard you. And I smelled something… decaying.”
She looked like she wanted to vomit. Guess I made quite an impression.
“Margaret, we have a guest. This is Justin. I trust you will keep his presence here a secret.” Alex nodded in my direction.
“Bringing your work home again? Really, Alejandro, this is ridiculous.” She crossed her arms, grimacing.
“He’s… different. I need your promise.” Alex moved to the bank of windows lining the exterior wall, turning his back to us.
“I don’t understand why you’re wasting your time with this. You must abandon your obsession with Anemies. It will destroy you,” she said.
“I’m not obsessed,” he replied.
“Of course you are. I know that look. What’s your plan for this one?” She joined him, molding her body against his, her breasts squishing against his arm.
He sighed, dipping his head to touch foreheads with her.
“Why persist? You will not find what you’re looki
ng for.” She kissed his cheek lovingly, tender.
I didn’t know they were capable of such affection.
“Promise me, Margaret.”
She focused her large eyes on me. Even in the dim firelight, the deep green of her irises drew me. So did her full lips. “Look at him. Such a simple creature. Hardly worth a moment of your time. One glance at me, and he’s already in a trance. Tell me what you find so interesting about them, the poor dullards.”
She smiled and glided over to me. Her cold fingers grazed my cheek, sending shivers down my body. A tingling sensation rose from my gut and lower, warming me from inside out.
“I’m not impressed with you either.” My voice, tight and high-pitched, refused to carry my lie.
“Justin,” Alex warned, turning to face us.
Margaret hissed. “The little Anemie has some bravery left in him. And some blood, it seems. He’s blushing. Filthy little cretin.” She grinned then smacked my face.
Tears reflexively burst from the sting of her hard palm.
“Margaret,” Alex said. “Please.”
She pouted. “Never mind. I don’t want to tease what I can’t drink.”
“What makes you think I’ll let you touch me?” I countered.
“Justin.” Alex shook his head. Like repeating our names would do something.
“Be careful, Anemie.”
“Why?”
Alex sighed and pinched his nose with his thumb and forefinger.
Margaret took a step back. “Alejandro, are you going to tolerate this piece of shit speaking to me in this way?”
“Ignore him,” he said.
“Ignore him?”
“He’s nothing, like you say. Don’t allow him to burrow under your skin.”
“You’re absolutely right. He is nothing. So, you won’t mind if I take out the trash.” Margaret lunged at me with her painted fingers splayed.
I recoiled into the couch, flinging my arms in front of my face.
Alex caught her before she sliced and diced me by lifting her off the floor in one smooth motion. “Control yourself, Ripper.”
“Let me go!” she growled.
“You’re not going to touch him.” Alex nipped at her neck.
She immediately relaxed, submitting to him. “Fine. Do whatever you want with this… freak. When you change your mind, I’ll be in the bedroom.” Her eyes still shone with fury. I wasn’t sure I trusted her, but she left without taking a second chance at maiming me.
Alex flopped in his chair. “Why did you have to do that?”
“Do what?” I tugged my—Alex’s—shirt down to smooth the wrinkles.
“You know damn well what you did!”
“She thinks she’s better than me.”
He glared at me. “She is.”
I crossed my arms. “That doesn’t give her—or you—the right to kill me.”
Alex mussed his hair, ignoring me. Long breaths passed until he finally said, “Maybe it was a mistake to bring you here. She can be difficult.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Then give me Sammie and let me go.”
The edge of his mouth curled up. “She could’ve ripped your head off.”
“I suppose that would ruin your furniture.”
He chuckled. “You’re quick. And full of wit. I never thought mortals, especially Anemies, could be so… sarcastic.”
“It helps if you don’t trance us all the time. Or kill us.”
“Speaking of which… Let’s talk about something that’s been on my mind since we met.” He stood and returned to the safe. After another spin of the dial, he opened the door and drew out a stake. He returned to his seat, pointing it toward me. An orange-rust color stained its tip. “You recognize this?”
My mouth dropped. “How’d you get that?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” A satisfied smile drew at his mouth. He continued to fiddle with the thing, wholly unafraid of what it represented or where it had been. “You almost got me in the heart with this, you sneaky bastard. I bet you’ve thought about trying it again, haven’t you?”
“The only thing I want to talk about is seeing Sammie.”
His smile faded. “I have no access to her right now.”
“You know I’m not buying that.”
Alex tapped the stake’s tip against his chin. “You will be here for a while so you better get used to conversation and civility.”
“A while? Why? Take a sample of my blood. That’s what you want, right? Then you can let me and Sammie go.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Of course it is! You could sneak her out of the lab and bring her here.” I clapped my hands once. “Boom. Done.”
“I could be Nathan Abarron’s biological son, and I still would not be able to simply walk into Abarron Laboratories and collect her.” He tossed the stake onto the coffee table. It clattered across the polished surface.
“She is there.” I sat up. My guess had been right. I’d had what I needed—a disguise, an E pin for access—and I hadn’t even gotten to the front door. Now, this Elite Vie, a scientist as he claimed, who said he’d brought Sammie to the lab, now couldn’t get inside? Nope, didn’t believe it. “You took her there. You can take her out.”
“Justin.” He sighed.
“Is she okay?” I whispered, unable to clear the lump in my throat.
“It would be so much simpler to trance you. It avoids so many difficult discussions. I must know why I cannot, what makes you different.”
“You have no idea what it’s like, do you? To care about someone. To be terrified that you’ll lose them.”
“Some of us miss that feeling.” He settled more into the chair, slumping his shoulders. His eyes darkened.
“Of death?”
His gaze bore into me. “Of being alive.”
“That makes no sense. You live forever.”
“I do not regret immortality, but I do long for the intensity of feelings that only come with mortal life.” He stroked the chair’s arm. “I can feel this fabric against my skin, but it does not invigorate me. Nor does a soft breeze, a pleasing scent, or a lilting tune. I enjoy it to some degree, but I feel like an observer, and I don’t get to directly experience anything. Except the thirst for blood, of course. I need so much of it just to sustain my existence that all other thoughts are pushed aside, almost to the exclusion of living. Ironic, isn’t it?”
“So what, I’m supposed to feel sorry for you? Your kind has killed hundreds of thousands of us. You stole Sammie from me. Our lives are not a game. We are not worthless.” A sob rocked my chest, pinched my ribs, and sucked the air from my lungs.
“No, you’re not worthless. Not at all,” he replied.
I shot to my feet. Tears streaked down my face as I pointed a shaky finger at him. “Just because you think you’re better than us does not give you the right to do whatever you want with us. We’re not possessions. We’re not objects. We’re not… we’re not yours.”
Alex’s eyes softened. “You see that intensity? I can’t generate such strong emotion. It is impossible for me to embrace such compassion, such sorrow, such grief. All of that left me when I became immortal.”
My heart nearly stopped. Everything went cold. “What do you mean became immortal?”
He tented his fingers under his chin. “I’ll tell you everything if you agree to do as I say.”
To surrender to a Vie I’d have to trust he’d keep his word. Uh-uh. Not happening. “I only want Sammie.”
“You’ll have to wait.”
“Then you can suck marrow.” I dropped onto the couch, deflated.
“Justin?”
I closed my eyes. A soft rush of air brushed past me.
When I finally opened my eyes, he and the stake were gone.
Journal of Alejandro Reyes
Year 75, Month 5, Day 27
It is with a heavy heart that I journal this entry. So much has occurred since last I wrote, and I’ve had little time to proce
ss it. At some point I will set time aside and properly mourn the untimely death of my friend, Martin.
I was not prepared for such a loss and to witness it in such a horrific manner provided enough shock to my system as to allow me respite in the form of numbness, though I know it will be short-lived. Poor Martin. And poor Zack, though I never knew him personally.
The one thing I’m not numb to, unfortunately, is guilt. That hit me strongly and without mercy. Martin had trusted me completely, and I’d failed to follow through on what I’d promised—I hadn’t kept him safe. For that, I will never forgive myself.
At some point, I must document my feelings to come to terms with them for closure, for healing, but for now the pain is too close. For now, I must focus on matters at hand, namely, Justin and his uniqueness. He is a most surprising character, not only for his physical attributes—he can resist trancing, and his blood… I cannot describe the potent effect it has using this primitive language—but also for his mind. The boy didn’t have access to proper education, yet he is not entirely naïve. His vocabulary exceeds that of Martin. (I’d only had a few short months to teach Martin, so Justin must have had some schooling by an elder.) And the way he intuitively understands concepts, relationships, motivation, philosophy… most impressive for one so young and insignificant.
No, I must not think of him in that way. He is anything but insignificant. In his blood lies something that could change the world, radically, like our Arrival had. In that regard, he very well may be more important than all of us.
Since he landed in my lap, it is up to me to discover the mechanism of his abilities.
Year 75, Month 5, Day 27, soon after midnight
argaret rushed out of the apartment in a blaze of rage and perfume. Alex emerged from the bedroom close behind. His hair looked more out of place than ever. God only knew what they were doing. He went to the safe again, this time selecting a syringe and several test tubes.
“I’m taking some samples to the lab,” Alex announced.
He knelt next to me by the couch. Without bothering to ask my permission, he rolled up my sleeve, stuck me with a needle, and collected my blood. Ten tubes later, he removed the needle and handed me a gauze pad.
“Apply pressure here.”
Dawn of the Vie (Immortal Aliens Book 1) Page 13
