Dawn of the Vie (Immortal Aliens Book 1) Page 17

  “Sounded like she was winning.”

  “For a moment, she was.” Alex tapped his toe against the wrecked dresser, then shifted his gaze to me. A grin erupted on his face. Short bursts of laughter turned to an all-out guffaw. After a moment, he composed himself. “You look like a mouse, hiding there, peeking out.”

  I pouted at him—manly, one hundred percent and completely—and stepped into the room. “Very funny.”

  He zeroed in on the objects in my hand. The smile melted. “What have you got there?”

  I held them up. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “Does Margaret know you’re an NCAAR member?”

  “I’m not—”

  “Then why do you have this? I mean, I can’t imagine a lot of Vie have hand-written notes about distribution routes, inventory…”

  He snatched the journal and pamphlet away from me in a blur. “Justin.”

  “Tell me the truth. Why do you have this stuff?”

  “Wouldn’t matter if I told you. I’m sure you’ve come to your own misguided conclusions.”

  “Misguided? Uh, a copy of The Book of Vie, NCAAR letters… What else have you got hidden around here?”

  He caressed his journal lovingly then tucked The Book of Vie inside. “With their glorious arrival, immortal Vie inherited the earth to rule with absolute power. Enslaved mortals, tormented by their bloodthirsty masters, abandoned hope and bore the yoke of submission without protest. The lowest of the low, the outcasts among outcasts, begged for mercy, but the immortals denied them. Then one day a mortal was born among them with the power to break the curse, free the mortals, and bring the gift of death.”

  Dad had recited verses with the same fervor. So had Martin and Zack. Shards of unease stabbed my belly. “So, you’ve read it.”

  “I wrote it.” He showed his fangs.

  Air left my lungs. My knees wobbled. “Why?”

  “Immortality is unnatural.”

  “That’s your answer.”

  “You wouldn’t understand.” He clutched the journal to his chest.

  I huffed, raising my gaze to the ceiling. “Did Nathan Abarron want you to write it?”

  “No, but in a way he forced me to.”

  He couldn’t be serious. I rubbed my face as if it’d erase all the nonsense running around in my mind.

  “You wrote The Book of Vie,” I repeated, tasting the words and choking on them.

  “Yes.”

  “My father believed in it. Martin believed in it. Zack did too. And it got them all killed.” I slammed my palms against his chest and shoved.

  He didn’t budge. Instead of peeling me off him, he covered my hands with his, lightly. “The downtrodden need hope and faith in something bigger than themselves. This book gives them that.”

  “Lies! It’s all lies,” I hissed. “Aren’t you capable of anything else?”

  He stroked the back of my hand with his thumb. “I’m sorry you see it that way. I was trying to help. The Book of Vie plus NCAAR gave Anemies something they could trust, a lantern in dark times. I was helping.”

  “This isn’t help. This is delusion. It’s sick. Twisted. Disgusting. Just like you.”

  “I wish you could see it from my perspective.”

  I drew back. “Never.”

  “Haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve been saying?”

  “Yeah, you lie. We’ve established that.”

  He closed the breath of distance between us and smacked my forehead. “Such a thick skull. I’m trying to save you from extinction!”

  “Right. You need a drug, that’s all.”

  He bent so we were eye to eye. “I don’t have to prove myself to you.”

  “Actually, I think you do.”

  “Is that so?”

  I nodded. “Real proof, too. No more talking.”

  “Incredible how you continue trying to negotiate. You have no leverage.”

  “You work at Abarron’s lab.”

  He blinked, likely caught off-guard at the subject change. “Yes.”

  “You’re hiding me from him, and he doesn’t know I’m not dead.”

  He tapped the journal and pamphlet against his palm. “If you applied your keen intellect to what I’m talking about you might truly be brilliant. I wish you’d abandon this stubborn resistance you’ve developed.”

  Ignoring him, I carried on with my theory. “Wouldn’t he figure it out sooner or later?”

  “He has no reason to doubt your death.”

  So Alex kept secrets from his boss. Interesting. “Anybody else know what you’re looking for in my blood?”

  “No.” His face remained blank.

  “Your Ripper knows.”

  “She won’t tell.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “She won’t. What’re you driving at?”

  “Take me to the lab. Show me what you’re doing.”

  He threw his head back in laughter. “No.”

  “You owe me this.”

  “I owe you nothing.”

  “After everything you’ve done—on this planet and however many others—yes, you do. You owe me everything.”

  “Enough!” He swatted the air. “I’ve listened to your list of grievances already.”

  “Bring me to the lab.” I slammed my fist against the wall. (It was softer than his face.) My knuckles throbbed, but I refused to cry out.

  He exited the room, muttering.

  I stayed close on his heels, wringing out my hand. “You want to help Anemies? Well, you can help one. Me.”

  He flopped in his chair. “You don’t understand what you ask of me.”

  “If you’d killed me, I wouldn’t be asking. Maybe I’m the ghost you deserve to haunt you.”

  He covered his eyes with a hand. “Please, forgo the dramatics.”

  “Dramatics? Your wrestling with Margaret is dramatic. I’m asking you to do the right thing.”

  “Bringing you to the lab—the proverbial lion’s den—is the right thing? How so?”

  I collapsed on the coffee table, since the couch was in pieces, and rubbed my sore, swelling knuckles.

  He lowered his hand. “You’re hoping for a glimpse of Samantha?” His forehead wrinkled. “I’m sorry, but she’s not available.”

  Available? What the hell did that mean? “I don’t believe you.”

  He sighed. “Getting you inside is exceptionally risky—not only for you, but for me.”

  I didn’t respond.

  After a long moment, he leaned forward. “If I show you my lab, you’ll trust me…?”

  I sat up. “It’s a start.”

  “Let’s hope it’s not an ending. For either of us.”

  Year 75, Month 5, Day 31, shortly after sunset

  ara brought an extra uniform as per Alex’s instructions. She handed it to me without a word.

  “Aren’t you a little curious why I need this?” I yanked my shirt over my head and unbuttoned my jeans, dropping them to the floor and kicking them off.

  She snatched up my clothes, frowning. Then her gaze landed on my stomach. Her eyes widened ever so slightly, and her lips parted. “Those cuts were from…”

  I slipped one leg into the blue jumpsuit, then the other. “The Vie who liked to draw, yeah.” The lines of sutures were crusted over. I slid my fingers across them, swallowing down the memories gurgling up my throat, trying to bubble out in screams.

  She walked around me, staring like a Vie. “You’re so thin I can see your ribs and… oh, these scars. What happened?” She reached a hand out, lightly touching them.

  I shuddered and drew the jumpsuit over my upper body, cheeks burning. “Fire. I fell into a fire when I was ten.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  I twisted to face her. “Not as bad as getting the dead skin cut off me every day.”

  Her nose scrunched. “Huh?”

  “To keep infection away.” />
  “Oh.” She wrung her hands. “Does it hurt?”

  “Not anymore.” I zipped up the suit. “I mean, the scars keep tightening, so it can get sore, but…”

  “You poor thing.” Her eyes searched mine for… something.

  “I really hate fire.” I moved closer.

  She didn’t shy away. “How did you survive?”

  “My dad knew a lot of medicine and healing techniques.”

  “Knew?”

  “He died.”

  I stared behind her, flashes of him fending off Vie as I dragged Sammie away playing on the personal vidscreen in my mind. He’d made us run. I’d left him behind.

  Cara touched my cheek with her petal-soft fingers and drew my face in line with hers. “I’m sorry.”

  I looked at her, then. Really looked at her. The human slave who’d called the Guard on me. The human slave who’d bashed me over the skull with a cleaning bucket. The human slave who pitied me.

  The human slave who Alex tranced to show me sympathy.

  “Thanks.” It wasn’t her fault that she didn’t mean it.

  “I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

  “An Anemie?”

  “No… I mean someone like you.” She traced her thumb along the edge of my lower lip.

  Just what had Alex told her to do? “I’m not following.”

  “You don’t act afraid of them.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. Vie terrified me. As much as Alex said he liked his chats, he could drain me anytime. He could snap my neck in one pump of my heart. My life expectancy could go from years to zero seconds whenever Alex decided he’d had enough of me. In fact, the moment he figured out what made my blood so special, he’d have no need to keep me alive at all.

  “Why does he want you to wear a uniform?” she asked, biting her lip.

  Dammit, now I couldn’t take my eyes off her mouth.

  “He’s sneaking me into the lab,” I said.

  “What? You can’t be serious!” She bordered on shrieking.

  “He didn’t tell you.”

  She clapped her hands over her ears. “You know what? Don’t say anything. I don’t want to know.” She rushed past me, collected her cleaning bucket, and started her chores.

  “What did Alex tell you?”

  “He said bring a uniform for you. That’s it. Nothing else.” She sprayed the coffee table with polish and wiped it clean with a towel. I stared at the new couch, pristine, brand new, delivered while I hid in Alex’s bedroom. It was like his fight with Margaret had never happened.

  The front door unlocked. Alex entered, a smile lighting his face when he saw Cara. “Ah, you’re here. Perfect.”

  She paused mid-stroke.

  “I’m taking Justin to the lab today, and I need you to come along. Observe him. Make sure he behaves appropriately. Understand?”

  She rose, nodding. Her eyes darted to me and narrowed slightly. Vie trances felt like a compulsion, an action one couldn’t resist. Guess it didn’t mean you had to like it.

  “How dangerous is this?” I asked Alex.

  Putting myself in harm’s way was one thing, but if anyone got suspicious caught us, Cara would be just as guilty as Alex and me. Alex, I didn’t care about, but Cara was innocent in all of this.

  “Getting cold feet?” he asked me.

  I shook my head.

  “Good. Come here, Cara.”

  She obediently went to him.

  “I don’t think she needs to come.”

  He peered at me, scrutinizing. Then he gave me a quick wink. “Of course she does. Safety in numbers.”

  More like I’d be less of a problem if I thought it’d put Cara in danger. Alex understood me better than I liked. “She shouldn’t be a part of this. If something happens…”

  It was awkward talking about Cara’s wellbeing right in front of her. Particularly when I wasn’t exactly sure how I felt about her. She was beautiful, and smart and kind and… and I liked her even if Alex tranced her to like me in return. Or at least act like she liked me. But I couldn’t let myself think further about it. A human and an Anemie—the idea was ludicrous.

  He hooked a finger under her chin. “If we bring her along, then you’ll be more likely to behave, Justin.”

  Yep, just as I thought.

  After keying in the passcode, he said, “Let’s go, kids. Time for a field trip.”

  hile the mood lighting in Alex’s apartment evoked darkness and shadows, the lab’s stark brightness banished it. Polished surfaces, reflective white walls, and shiny floors merged into a headache-inducing, squint-worthy buffet of gleam. With Alex leading the way, we rushed past the security entrance, bumped ahead of the line at the elevator, and made it to his lab without so much as a second glance from anyone. He murmured something like, “It’s good to be the king,” in the elevator.

  Then again, a marathon shower followed by a thick layer of concealer to hide the dark circles under my eyes—thanks to Cara’s handiwork—and the two pints of blood Alex had transfused into me made a huge difference. I didn’t look like an Anemie, and I certainly didn’t smell like one, according to Alex… and Cara.

  “It’s not like soap and showers exist in my world,” I’d said, to which they’d both burst into laughter. Nice.

  “Cara, stand here.” Alex positioned her by the automatic sliding glass door. He handed her a palm-sized vidscreen. Tapping the screen, he said, “This will link to the camera. We’ll be stealing security’s feed—can’t have them catching you on tape, Justin—so we can’t stay long. And before you can ask, the likelihood of them really paying attention to our entrance and walk down the hallway is minimal. Traffic is too high. The labs, on the other hand, are watched much more carefully. Cara, if anyone starts down the corridor, tell me.”

  She nodded in response and dutifully watched the screen and hallway.

  “Justin, this way.”

  Alex led me to a pair of benches equipped with microscopes, boxes with glass slides, and stacks of round, clear disks. Stools sat tucked under them.

  I picked up a disk. “What’re these?”

  “Petrie dishes. I add growth medium to them—something similar to what your scientists used to call agar—and use them to grow cells to conduct experiments.”

  He took the disk from my hand and set it atop the others. Then he went to the refrigerator, opened the door, and retrieved a collection of vials housed in a wire rack. All were some variant of red.

  “These contain your blood. Concentrated,” he pointed to the dark ones, “and diluted.” He pointed to the pinkish ones.

  “What have you found?”

  He motioned for me to join him at the flat screen monitor on the right wall. Cradling the tray in his elbow, he tapped the screen with his free hand so fast it blurred. Icons flew, enlarged, shrank, opened, collapsed, and finally, his fingers stilled. A twisted ladder pattern emerged from the screen to spiral inches from my face. Dots and lines braided into a multi-colored string.

  “This is you.”

  I blinked.

  He continued. “Your blood. Your DNA, more specifically.” He tapped the screen some more.

  The helix whirred for a moment before halting and then expanding.

  “Here is the gene for your brand of anemia.” Another tap.

  The helix fractured, isolating the gene.

  “Beta thalassemia intermedia.”

  “Thanks for the science lesson, but what does this have to do with anything?”

  “Your sister has a more severe case of it than you. She’s needed transfusions before, I assume.”

  “No. You’ve tested her? I want to see her!” I swung my arm through the holograph as if dispelling smoke.

  Alex blocked me from rushing the door. “You can’t. Now stay put.”

  “Why won’t you tell me what happened to her? Is she…” My throat closed, locking down on the word I couldn’t speak.

  “She’s alive, Justin. I promise you that.”
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  “Your promises mean nothing to me.”

  “There was something humans used to believe in called karma. Maybe you are my karma, forcing me to atone for my sins.” His gaze darted all over my face as he expected to read the word karma spelled out in my pores.

  “Poor you,” I said.

  He bared his fangs. “Do you know how many times I’ve analyzed your samples and still can’t find what makes your blood unique?” He motioned at the microscopes. “Whether I stare at the cells myself, run an algorithm, or deconstruct your DNA and RNA, re-test everything, there’s nothing.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Nothing tangible anyway. Only theory.”

  “My apologies.” I rolled my eyes.

  He chewed on a fingernail, a classic Zack move. It stole my breath.

  “I was certain the answer would present itself.”

  “So what part of Anemie blood makes you guys high?”

  “Good question. Initially, I thought it was the simple lack of healthy red blood cells. The lack of… nutrition, if you will, provided the intoxicated state. Sort of like how salt water would kill you rather than sate your thirst.”

  “Or soil that doesn’t have the right stuff in it. It’s still dirt, but plants won’t grow.”

  He stroked his jaw. “Yes, sort of like that.”

  “I’m not a total sludge brain.”

  “As I studied further, I realized my original hypothesis was too simple. Then I thought, what if there’s a molecule in your blood that acts as a catalyst, causing a chain reaction reversing the immortalization factor of the vaccine? It has a limited effect in small quantities, but in larger amounts, it’s fatal.”

  Talk about some wild shit. “And different types of anemia have different molecules?”

  He smiled, pleased I followed along enough to exchange ideas. Dad used to give me the same look.

  “Potentially.” He guided me to the monitor. “As I analyzed Anemie blood and separated out the various forms of anemia there were, I found that each type caused different effects. Sickle cell anemia causes a potent high, as you call it, but is short-lived, whereas thalassemia is more subtle, but longer lasting.”

  “You like the longer lasting one,” I guessed.

  A smile tipped the corner of his mouth. “Is it that obvious? Mixing the two, well, is beyond description.” He collapsed the file onscreen, exposing the entire list of folders. “You have a novel form of whatever the molecule happens to be, it seems. I have yet to isolate it.” He sighed. “It’s still a theory.”