Cara Mia - Book One of the Immortyl Revolution (18 page)

“Get those discs!”

Lydia stalked out as Joe stretched out on the sofa. Jean stuck her head in. She was dressed in street clothes. “You almost ready?”

Shit, he’d forgotten they were supposed to see a movie and have dinner. “Can we do it tomorrow night? Lydia just ordered me to go in and bug Mia about some data they’ve promised.”

Jean’s wide mouth formed a tight line. “Last time it was something else. Forget it. I’ll go myself.”

“Jean… ” But she was already out the door.

A few hours of sleep later, Joe handed Kurt’s latest letter to Mia. She sat quietly, reading it as he sank into his usual chair.

“Lydia is meeting with Lee Brooks tonight and asked me to come in and talk to you, even though we’re not scheduled until Friday. She’s coming here in a few weeks. I’ll get the chance to finally talk to her. None of us have ever seen her. Only Lydia ever speaks with her. I tried e-mail, voice mails, but she never returned my messages. It’s not Lydia doing all this. It’s her and I can’t figure out why.”

Mia looked at him for a long time, saying nothing.

“Kurt wants to play chess with me.”

The slightest smile crossed her face. “He’ll beat the pants off of you.”

“I don’t care if I win. He’s interesting to talk to— when he talks.”

“I’d give anything for a walk under the stars with him.”

“You know the rules.”

Her dark gaze turned fully upon him, an attractive edge of malice lighting her up. “I live to break rules.” She went into the bathroom to destroy the letter and flush it.

“Lydia asked for some discs.”

“Discs?”

“Don’t fuck with me, Mia. You promised to deliver things you haven’t.”

She just shook her head.

“So, I guess you’re not going to tell me where they are?” He knew from her resolute expression she wouldn’t relent. “But you said your house was wrapped up in scientific research early on?”

“I didn’t know to what extent as Ethan kept me in the dark.”

Joe sighed. “Well, since I’m here we might as well get on with this ridiculous profile.”

“Your girlfriend looked pissed off when she came in to remove those beastly censors from my head when I woke up.”

“I told you the subject is off limits.”

“You’re not the first man with a bit on the side.”

“I’ll thank you not to refer to Jean in that manner.”

“Been that bit myself.”

“Mia. We have work to do!”

“Jeeze. Don’t bite my head off.”

“Just tell me about what Brovik was up to.”

“I didn’t hear anything for a long time— then he sent another emissary.” Her expression grew soft. “That second summer in Italy was the most beautiful I’d ever seen— roses covering the villa, cascading over the terrace in falls of deep crimson. Breezes off the bay cooled the air, making the heat less hellish than the daytime hours when we slept, the perfect time for
amore
.

Ethan was inside on the phone and I on the terrace cutting roses, laying them in a large wicker basket, singing a
canzone di Napoli
, when a pebble hit the terrace. Ethan had schooled me to call him at the slightest disturbance in the night. I tried to ascertain where the pebble-tossing intruder was, when a boy’s voice called out from the shadows, “Mee-ya?”

One of the
rats
from the beach, I figured. Backing slowly toward the house, I assumed a fighting stance as Ethan had taught, brandishing my shears as a weapon. “Ethan is inside. I’ll scream. He’ll be on you like a bat out of hell.”

A slight figure vaulted lightly onto the balustrade. Moonlight fell on a face as delicately white as the Dresden statue Selena kept on the mantelpiece when I was a girl. Huge star sapphire eyes caught the light. I froze, thrilled and shaken by this serendipitous pleasure.

It wasn’t an arrow that did it. That sort of rude assault was never his way. Eros, that diminutive god of love, roused this drowsy Psyche abruptly from her slumber with a small, sad smile.

His feet touched the pavement noiselessly as he leapt down beside me. This was no rat. His honey-colored curls were well tended and he was dressed in a fine, blue shirt, open at the neck with spotless buff trousers. He was also somewhat older in mortal years, small, but fully-grown. No, this celestial apparition wasn’t cast-off, but someone’s beloved possession.

“I had to see you just once,” he whispered. “I’ll go round front— no trouble.”

He was everything Philip had said, and then some. I gasped, “Kurt?”

He nodded solemnly. “A message for Ethan. Brovik doesn’t trust the telephone.”

Questions flooded my brain faster than this silent creature could have possibly answered them. “Where is he? Is he coming?”

He shook his head, slipping a small beautifully bound book out from his pocket and into my hand. Our fingers brushed and lingered. “Goethe, a decent translation, but you should really read it in German someday. Faust. You know it?” I shook my head. The bittersweet smile lit up his eyes. “Write me what you think.”

“I will.” I don’t know what I’d imagined but somehow he was everything I could, perfection in miniature, his ethereal elegance worlds different than Ethan’s animal sensuality, making my master seem somehow overdone.

He started, withdrawing his hand. “He’s coming.”

I hid the book in my basket as Ethan came out onto the terrace. He took one look at Kurt and scowled. “What in hell’s name are you doing here? Mia, you should have called!”

Kurt spoke up to defend me, “I just arrived.”

“Hand it over and clear out.”

Kurt reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded envelope. Ethan snatched it away, flashing him a look of utter contempt. “Now get out Peter Pan, fly, fly away— ”

Kurt scowled back. “I’m not finished. You’re to bring Mia and join us on the yacht.”

“I work for him. I don’t have to socialize with him.”

“He’s willing to overlook your past insults if Mia is presented properly,” Kurt replied, calmly.

“You may both go to the devil. He won’t get his hands on her. Tell him, he needn’t send his
toy
to keep tabs on us. Let him come if he has something to convey to me.” Ethan shoved the envelope into his breast pocket and gave Kurt a once over. “Disgusting— he should’ve done you a favor and left you to rot in that pit.”

Kurt was still young enough for this kind of remark to visibly wound him. I couldn’t stand it. “Ethan that’s cruel!”

“Don’t waste womanly sympathy on this
thing
, my dear.”

Kurt winced, but he couldn’t say anything in retaliation. He nodded to me. “I’m sorry we won’t get to know one another, Mia.”

“You’ll never get within an inch of her.”

Kurt wasn’t all that cowed by Ethan. He looked him dead in the eye. “I’ll be sure to tell Brovik how
cordially
I was received here.”

Ethan put his arm around my waist. “Must be hell to look around and know none of this can ever be yours.”

Kurt’s eyes furtively met mine.

Ethan laughed. “Is that what he’s promised? He promised me the world. It’s a sham little man, a dirty, lowdown trick.” I pulled away from Ethan, disgusted by this behavior. “Ah, but you’ve realized that already. Go on now, shoo! Crawl back to your master— on your knees— the way he likes it.”

Kurt spied my shears on the bench and snatched them up. He turned to Ethan, crouching, small, but deadly.

Ethan stood his ground calmly. “Come on boy, I dare you. One move and I’ll have the perfect excuse to tear you to pieces.”

“Kurt, please, he’ll kill you. I’ve seen him do it.” A world of pain passed through Kurt’s eyes as he withdrew. The shears clattered to the ground.

“Get out, before I change my mind,” Ethan said, in a cold, low voice.

Kurt left the terrace by the steps, as dignified as one can muster at five-foot six. I wanted so much to follow and apologize for Ethan’s obscene treatment in my own special way.

Ethan turned to me. “
That
is why I can’t stomach Brovik’s presence.”

“He’s just a boy, Ethan.”

Ethan scowled, grabbing my arm hard. “How do you know so much about him?”

“Philip told me.”

“What else did he tell you?”

“For heaven’s sake Ethan, grow up. I’m not a baby. I know the score.”

He pulled back on my hair forcing me to look into his eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

“Let me go! You’re no better than Dirk.”

He put his hands around my throat. Boy, did I fear those smooth, manicured paws. I’d seen what they were capable of. How far could he be pushed before I bore the brunt of his rage? I closed my eyes, repulsed yet powerless to resist as his hands slipped down my body. Christ, I was jelly in his hands. He led me to a dark, terrifying place where my body and soul weren’t mine.

As Ethan’s vampiric centennial drew closer, oh how he brooded, deep black silences a truckload of wisecracks couldn’t penetrate. Looking into the mirror late in April of sixty-three, the thirteenth anniversary of my own immortal birth, I wondered at the woman reflected there. The world grew older, but the mirror reflected skin as childishly unblemished at thirty-three as it was at twenty, breasts that didn’t weigh down with the advance of age or soften in childbirth and a body as firm and smooth as the night my lord took me as his.

What was the thing Ethan placed about my neck? Another collar of slavery, cool and heavy, it caught the light. Deep brown smoke and amber fire burned in spite of its coolness.

“Topazes. To match your eyes.”

I touched my fingertips to the sparkle. “It looks much too expensive.”

He was pleased. “Seventeenth century Venetian, brilliant as the day they were set. You grow more so with each passing night.”

Palaver, more beautiful palaver and I didn’t trust it. “I never change.” I grasped the hand caressing my throat. “Don’t you find this dull?”

“You’re a kaleidoscope shifting into a fascinating new configuration with each turn and bend of light.”

“You’re in for a disappointment somewhere along the line.”

He bent to kiss my throat. “I have another surprise at the dock.”

Moored to our pier was the most beautiful little sailboat. “She’s yours. What will you name her?”

“
Allegra,
after Byron’s daughter.”

He looked at me oddly. “Why would you identify with that poor soul?”

The bay was smooth, the boat barely affected by the tide. The spring night was mild and the sea smelled of salt and iodine, female scent. I lay back on the deck trying to imagine how Ophelia felt when she drowned herself and watching the sky while Ethan watched me. I wasn’t the starry-eyed child he found and transformed. I was a grown woman all-too aware of his demons and mine. The exterior relationship was smooth as the waters of the bay. My lord, cool as always, a vision in cashmere sweater and light wool trousers, black hair falling onto his ice blue eyes. Nothing seemed amiss but tremors rumbled, old Neptune waking up, threatening to capsize us.

I closed my eyes. “Ethan, something is troubling you. Spit it out.”

He reclined next to me, fingers tangling in the waves of my hair spread out on the chair. “When I first saw you onstage my world changed.”

My eyes opened on him. “I’m not that girl anymore. Don’t be hoodwinked by an illusion you’ve created.”

He wrapped his arms about his knees. “Brovik sent a message through Gaius.”

I sat up, surprised that he uttered the name of his maker voluntarily. His eyes veiled as he spoke. “He sends felicitations on the anniversary of your birth. This year is the centennial of my own birth in the blood, come December. Our presence is expected. I can’t put him off any longer.”

My power to veil myself had become highly developed, but inside of me a battle raged, and I feared Brovik’s power to strip away the illusion. My rival, the one who had stolen Ethan from his wife and children, who Ethan pined for, though never admitted it. Could he reach inside and pluck the soul from me as Ethan had once cautioned, with the most serene of smiles on his beautiful countenance? The demon haunting my dreams was fair as the sun with eyes like the sky I could walk under again.
Who will go
with him?
Those words echoed through the dark corners. What did they mean?

Besides the heavy duty, gothic dreams, I spent a good deal of my waking hours wondering about how the antagonist’s entrance into our little play would affect the action. Or was I actually the antagonist? Oh yes, that made much more sense. Their story had been in progress for a century. I was the latecomer. And Kurt, where would he fit in? From his letters, I believed I knew him better than I could ever hope to know Ethan. We shared cautious views about this endeavor our house was embarked on, but he had complete confidence in Brovik’s motives, while I had deep misgivings about Ethan’s.

Early that December, Kurt called on us again. The weather was unusually brisk for this warm climate. Did Brovik exercise power over the north wind? Ridiculous, I chided myself, only fairy tale vampires held power over the elements, but Brovik by this time had achieved mythic proportions in my imagination.

Ethan was already on the terrace when I arrived. Strong wind blew my hair over my face. I scraped it back with my hand. Kurt stood there with a wooden box of some kind in his hands. He smiled his bittersweet smile, bowing according to form, averting his eyes. I wouldn’t have this from my dear friend.

I laid my hand on his arm. “How are you?”

“As well as can be expected.” He looked up to meet my eyes head on. All we knew of one another, and wanted to know, passed through that brief glance.

Ethan snapped, “Mercy’s sake, stop goggling like two teenagers! Spit out your message, boy, and go.”

Kurt moved briskly forward, presenting Ethan with the small beautifully carved chest. “Brovik sends gifts in commemoration of your centennial, and orders you attend him.”

Kurt stole another glance at me.

Ethan took this in and smiled smugly. “Oh, we’ll come— but on one condition. You’ll make yourself scarce insect, understand?”

Despite his eternally youthful looks, Kurt was thirty-five now, hardly a boy anymore. He replied, firm and unwavering, “If you insist. My regrets, Mia.”