“Because of me,” he said.
I scoffed. “You. Then why is it Abarron who went too far? Why does he have all the glory?”
“He’s the one who funded the research, of course.”
I imagined him in a lab on another planet circling a sun on the other side of the galaxy. “I don’t believe you.”
“It’s outrageous, I know, but true. Abarron always gets what he wants.”
“Couldn’t you figure out a way to be immortal without all the blood drinking?”
“Obviously not.”
“You’re not going to tell me how it works, are you?”
He grinned. “Obviously not.”
“Then why tell me anything at all?”
“I enjoy your reactions.”
“Not only am I your drug, but I’m also your entertainment.”
“Miss being a part of the live-action show with Vincent Marks? You used up your fifteen minutes of fame. Tell me, how does it feel to be so important?”
I pressed my fists to my eyes. “You’ve proved that you’ve won. Do you have to mock me too?”
He rose and circled to his stage—the bank of windows. The city skyline made the perfect backdrop for his dramatic pose. I wondered if he’d taken lessons from Vincent Marks. “You know you have it better here with me than, well, everyone else of your kind. Even better than the slaves.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, proud of himself and his charity.
“How do you figure that? I’ve been bitten three times, almost killed more than that. Okay, so your slave brings me food, but that’s it. This…” I gestured to the room, “cage isn’t better.”
“I think I understand. You’re bored. Stir crazy. Unsatisfied with what I’ve given you.”
“What have you given me?”
He streaked toward me. “Security.”
I pointed a finger in his face. “One word: Margaret.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. Then he nodded. Smiled. “You need a Margaret of your own for company.”
I squinted. “What?”
“Yes, you’re boredom must stem from loneliness. I could have Cara pleasure you.”
A rush of heat blistered my cheeks. Cara was definitely pretty—way pretty—and she smelled good, like daisies and springtime. But she probably hated me. Yep, the bucket to my skull tipped me off. The only way she’d be attracted to me was if Alex tranced her and ordered her to do it. Temptation fled me. I couldn’t do that to her or anyone for that matter. I couldn’t be like Alex, bossing people around to do what I wanted. “No, thanks.”
He smirked. “Had to think about it though, didn’t you?”
I sighed.
“Perhaps now you understand my point,” he said.
Couldn’t be further from the truth, even if he returned to his home planet and sent a message. “Actually, I have no idea where you’re going with this.”
Up, down, zigzag, spin in a circle, flap your arms. That’s what conversations with him were like. Bashing my head on the pillar sounded less painful.
“Let me ask you this, then. Can too much of a good thing be bad?”
“Seriously?”
“You don’t think so.” He twisted his signet ring around his finger. “Interesting.”
“That’s not… no. I mean, yes, you can have too much of a good thing.”
He arched an eyebrow. “I agree. Think about it. If given everything your heart desires—to the point of excess—then there’s a chance you’ll become sick of it… and want something else. Something more.”
I shrugged. “I wouldn’t know what that’s like, but you do, so what’s your answer?”
He slid down in the chair, laced his fingers, and set a foot on the coffee table. “Abarron, through my work, gave us immortality, which freed us to pursue any pleasure we could dream up. Problem is, with increased physical and mental capacity comes a need for increased stimuli and more of it.” He paused. My eyes must’ve glazed over. “I’m being unclear.”
“You’re bored. I get it.”
He sat straight. “No, you don’t. There’s more to it than simple boredom. I’m speaking of chaos, loss of control, a sense of hurtling toward a cliff at full speed with no brakes. We’re at the precipice, and we’re not slowing down. In fact, we’re going faster. With each planet, we assimilate and exhaust resources quicker. Sometimes I wonder to what end.”
A sinking sensation tugged at my belly. “Y-you’ve destroyed other planets.”
He picked at a loose thread. “Of course. Repeatedly.”
“Why?” I managed barely a whisper.
“I’ve come to regret some of my actions.”
“Some?” Which didn’t he regret?
“I had hoped this planet would be different. That I could… atone in some way.”
“By killing Anemies?”
He pounded the chair arm with a fist. “No! You’re mind-numbingly stupid sometimes.”
“You’re the one not making any sense.” I rose and stormed to the kitchen. I had nowhere else to go, and it was better than the bathroom.
Alex followed me. “I’m sorry. It’s just… this is the first time I’ve shared this with anyone, let alone a human Anemie. Clearly it’s too much for your mind to fully comprehend.”
Right, assume I’m a sludge brain because something doesn’t add up. I grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with tap water. My hand shook, spilling some on the floor. “Blazes.” I plunked the glass on the counter to wipe up the water with a towel Cara had left on a rack under the sink.
“You’re… cleaning.” Alex sounded confused.
I lifted my head. He leaned against the door jam, arms folded across his chest. “Yeah. I don’t want to get Cara in trouble.”
“You like her, I knew it.”
“She doesn’t deserve to be punished for something I did.”
“How altruistic.” He strode to me, slid the towel out of my hand, and wiped the bottom of the glass and counter. Handing the glass to me, he said, “I would leave it for her to clean up.”
I drank, avoiding having to reply.
He folded the towel over the rack. “That’s a difference between us.”
“It’s not the only one.”
“Indeed. Perhaps that’s why we can’t understand each other.”
I rinsed the glass and left it in the sink. “I understand you. You’re a murderer and a guilt-ridden, blood-drinking drug addict who kidnapped my sister. Now you’re holding me hostage to torture me with your mind-screwing questions because you’ve lost interest in vidscreen shows.” I circled around him.
He caught me by the elbow. “You were going to be drained. Without my interrupting and rescuing you, you’d be a pile of bloodless ashes. I should think you’d be at least a little grateful.”
Martin had said the same thing to me. I met his stare. “Maybe I’d have been better off if you’d let Scarface kill me.”
“I couldn’t allow that to occur. I needed your blood. To analyze it. Study it. Learn how it’s different.”
“Right. You need me for your own gain. Sorry I’m not grateful for that.” I twisted out of his grip.
For once, he didn’t stop me.
Journal of Alejandro Reyes
Year 75, Month 5, Day 29
Addendum to Vie weaknesses, bullet #5, Justin’s blood:
Justin’s blood is a limited resource:
SHORT-TERM SOLUTION: Savor it versus drain him dry on a binge
LONG-TERM SOLUTION: Find what makes his blood unique
VIDEO TRANSCRIPT FROM ABARRON LABORATORY
YEAR 75, MONTH 5, DAY 27, 2137 hours
* * * Begin video * * *
Elite Vie scientist, Alejandro Reyes, enters lab. After checking to make sure he’s alone, he fishes a few vials out of his jacket pocket and carefully places them on a rack. Several minutes pass as Alejandro stands there, palms pressed to the table on either side of the rack, staring intently at the vials, as if pondering his first move.
Freeze frame close up reveals Alejandro’s dilated pupils, extra graying of the hair at his temples, a slight palsy of his hands.
He picks up a single vial. Contents appear blood red. Slowly, reverently, he pipettes a drop into the slide, slips on a cover, and examines the samples under a microscope, intermittently jotting notes of what he sees. He draws a diagram, labeling components.
Next, Alejandro runs a sample through the centrifuge. Once completed, he examines it again, this time allowing the computer to analyze it.
He paces as the program works, his continuously shaking hand rubbing his jaw.
Alejandro uses his body—almost purposely—to block the computer screen. He transfers the results to a chip then erases the data from the computer.
Eliminating all traces of his work, Alejandro disposes of the slide in the incinerator and returns the remaining vials to his jacket pocket.
With a final glance at the lab, he straightens his collar and exits.
* * * End video * * *
Year 75, Month 5, Day 30, before sunrise
lex retrieved a handful of empty vials, a needle, and tubing. He lined them up on the coffee table in front of me while Vincent Marks yapped on about how the biodome was more than fifty percent complete and now that more resources were being dedicated to it, this last half of the project would go much faster. Yay, Nathan Abarron had found a way to unleash Vie on Anemies during the day, blah, blah… It wouldn’t take long for him to complete his Anemie extermination campaign despite the NCAAR protests, yada yada.
“I need more blood,” Alex said.
My gaze never left Marks’ face as I extended my arm. “Go ahead. Take as much as you want.”
“No protesting?”
“We had a deal, right?”
He prepped my skin with an alcohol wipe. I barely felt it when he stuck me.
“What do you think of the dome?” He attached a tube to the catheter connection.
Tired of arguing, debating, or whatever you wanted to call it, I said nothing.
“Like it that much, eh?”
“Why do you ask? It’s not like you care about my opinion.”
“I do care. I care very much.” He exchanged one tube for another and palmed a third. “And despite how things end up every time we chat, as you call it, I do prefer it over this apathetic version of you.”
“The dome means there will be no safe time for Anemies, and we’ll be killed all the faster.”
He watched the vidscreen for a moment. “True.”
“What are you going to do without your drug?”
“Worried about me?”
“No.”
He chuckled.
“Why does Abarron let the NCAAR exist?”
His brows knitted together. “What makes you ask?”
“They go against what he wants.”
“What he wants is a controlled populace. If Vie can find a peaceful way to explore their interests, then he allows it… to an extent, that is.”
“You make it sound like you guys are hard to control.”
“Things are escalating quickly now. He needs to work fast to launch the next phase.” He removed the needle and handed me a piece of gauze.
Pressing the tiny square to my skin, I asked, “What’s the next phase?”
Margaret, who’d holed up in Alex’s bedroom hours ago, stormed into the room, fury sparking in her eyes. “I’ve heard enough. What business do you have in telling an Anemie about us or Abarron?”
Alex stood. “Margaret, please. He’s got no one to tell, and even if he did they wouldn’t believe him anyway.”
“You’re a fool.” She leaned against the arm of the couch, the slit of her skirt opening to reveal most of her pale, smooth thigh. She examined her nails. Her extremely sharp, pointed nails. “It’s a good thing I’m loyal to you, lover. One word to my father, and this little party you’ve got going on here would end.”
Alex gathered the vials of my blood and tucked them into his jacket pocket. He joined Margaret at the other end of the couch. “Ripper, trust me.”
Cute nickname. It suited her.
“I don’t like him being here, Alejandro.”
“I know.” He reached up to caress her face.
She smacked his hand away. “No, you don’t.”
In a split second, she was leaning over me, her nails digging into my jaw. “I don’t want this filth here anymore. Drain him and get rid of him.”
He wrestled her away from me. “I will do no such thing.” Restraining her in a bear hold, he said, “I told you not to touch him, and I meant it.”
Instead of arguing, she responded by smiling and rubbing her body against his. “You know I like it when you take charge.”
Alex growled as he bit her ear. She countered by hooking an arm around his neck and running her fingers through his hair, a low purr in her throat.
“But, my love, I can’t tolerate what you’re doing. You’ve gone too far.” She elbowed him in the gut then whipped her fist into his face. His grip faltered long enough for her to twist around and plant a knee in his crotch. Ruthless bitch.
“Justin. Get to the bedroom. Lock the door.” Alex wheezed. “Margaret and I have some things to discuss.”
Oh, clots. I scrambled behind the couch like it’d protect me.
She whirled, a toothy grin plastered across her face. “First things first. I’m going to take care of this little Anemie.”
Alex slammed her onto the couch. The force of it broke the frame.
“Go!” He yelled out a passcode.
My body flicked on like someone flipped a switch. I ran, praying Margaret didn’t claw me from behind. My sweaty palms slipped over the handle, but I finally got the door open and rushed inside. I double- and triple-checked the lock. Slams, knocks, crunches, and bangs filtered to me from the living room as I stood there, panting, in the middle of a Vie bedroom. Some discussion. Given Margaret’s rage, I doubted Alex could beat her. Then nothing would stop her from breaking through the door and tearing me limb from limb.
The room had gray walls, a low platform bed, shiny black dressers, and a mirrored closet door.
“I’ll kill him, Alejandro!” Margaret roared.
“Margaret, get back here!”
Shitshitshitshitshit. I dashed around the tall dresser left of the door, planted my palms against it, and pushed with all of my strength. It shifted about half an inch.
I flipped around and shoved the dresser using my back and legs for leverage. It tipped. I curled my fingers under the bottom edge and pulled. I grunted, every muscle straining. Finally, its own weight took over, and it came crashing down with a deafening boom, blocking the door.
I collapsed on the bed, breathless. Then I remembered Alex and Margaret used it for sex—eww—I meant not eww for sex, but eww for Vie sex—and I leapt off it.
Two solid raps shook the door, followed by a sing-song voice. “I’m coming for you, Anemie.”
Margaret.
I immediately backpedaled. There was nowhere for me to go except the closet, so I slid the door open. The lights automatically turned on. A walk-in. Damn thing was as big as the bedroom. On one side, suits, shirts, and ties dominated double racks while the other side housed dresses, blouses, and way too many high-heeled shoes to count. Along the far wall were more drawers and shelves. Something stuck out under a sweater. I retrieved it. A hand-held vidscreen.
I tapped the screen, and it blinked to life with a keypad for the password. I returned it—no sense in wasting my time with it—and pawed through the drawers. Once Margaret breeched the door, I’d need something to defend myself. Alex had to keep some weapons around. He participated in raids, after all. Maybe he maintained an arsenal with his underwear. My hands quaked so bad I dropped as many things as I picked up.
“Come on! There has to be something!”
The last drawer. I yanked it open. Papers. Tons of loose, useless, not at all weapon-ish papers. Never heard of death by paper cut, for
humans or aliens. I groaned, digging my fingers in the mess of scribbled notes, maps of New City, the underground, and more. Underneath it all was a copy of The Book of Vie.
I dropped to my knees, mouth gaping.
What was he doing with this?
While Margaret pummeled the door, I carefully lifted the pamphlet from the drawer and turned the pages. A folded piece of paper was stuck inside. I opened it. Scrawled across the top were the letters: NCAAR.
I began reading.
The letter detailed a list of distribution routes, a catalogue of inventory, and a list of potential safe houses.
Safe houses.
For Anemies.
Deeper in the drawer lay a leather-bound journal. Flipping it open, I saw the same careful cursive looping across the lined pages as on the NCAAR letters.
Alex’s journal.
Alex’s letters.
He was an NCAAR member.
The clotsucker.
Behind me, the door splintered.
final crack, then…
Silence.
My rapid breaths filled the closet tighter than the racks of clothes.
A soft knock came at the door.
“Justin. It’s Alex. Let me in.”
I slapped the pamphlet and journal shut and raced to the door. “Where is she?”
“Gone. I kicked her out.” He pushed against the door. “What’s blocking me?”
“You’re a liar.” I gripped the journal and pamphlet tight.
“Justin?”
“What else are you hiding?”
The banging resumed. “Unblock the door!” Alex yelled.
“I can’t.”
“Why the hell not?”
“I tipped the dresser.”
He sighed heavily. “Stand clear.”
“You can’t get through.” The damn thing weighed more than a dump truck.
“I said stand clear.”
I scurried to the closet and hid behind the sliding door.
A solid smack rocked the bedroom door right off its hinges. After he tossed the door aside, Alex roundhouse kicked the dresser, sending it skittering across the floor like it weighed nothing. “Destroying my furniture was unnecessary.”
Dawn of the Vie (Immortal Aliens Book 1) Page 16
