Dawn of the Vie (Immortal Aliens Book 1) Read online

  Well, actually, it would be my pleasure.

  I bit my lip. First things first. The only way forward from here—like it’d been since Sammie and I ran to the roof—was down. I released my hold on the life-saving cable and dropped to the pavement.

  My knees buckled when I landed. So did my resolve. My fighting rules, my obsessive carefulness, my stupid idea that escaping from Vie was possible—it amounted to nothing. All I had to show for it was a bunch of toxin coursing through my system. Nausea swelled, and I hurled acid from my stomach as if it would release all the emotions boiling inside. I squeezed my eyes shut. None of this made sense. Vie getting high off Anemie blood. Me being immune to a trance.

  More importantly, Alex had kidnapped Sammie. She might be dead already.

  I’d failed to protect her. Maybe I should have let myself smack the pavement head first. Then it’d be finished. But instinct had taken over. I wanted to live. Was that part of Alex’s game, a literal push to “help” me decide? Listen to me, giving Vie credit where credit wasn’t deserved.

  I spit bile on the ground.

  When I could stand, I burned hotter than the flames consuming the building. I just couldn’t tell who I was angrier with—the Vie, or myself.

  I scanned the alley for my discarded stake. There. A few feet away, the tip stained with Vie blood—Alex’s blood. It thirsted for more, like me.

  Crouching, I tested the stake’s weight then raced into the dark.

  ights reflected off the biodome panels low on the horizon. A false sunrise. I frequently checked the skyline as I ran in case a Raid Vie perched on the roofs like a gargoyle. Super fast and super strong predators, Vie could jump huge distances—as in from rooftop to rooftop—without getting hurt.

  Alex himself might have been hunting me. A new game: let the stupid Anemie go and then chase him later. He’d catch me unaware if or when he decided to attack.

  My vision blurred, blending the hazy oranges and pinks of dawn and the muted grays of the city. The buildings’ edges vibrated and bled into the surrounding air. I paused, planting a palm against the nearest building to make sure it was solid. It was. And yet when I looked… fuzzy. It was all fuzzy.

  The toxin.

  I couldn’t let it beat me. I wouldn’t let it beat me. I shook it off and kept moving.

  Thoughts pounded my skull in time with each step. I’d staked a Vie. A Vie who couldn’t trance me. He thought I was the anomaly, but maybe he was. I slowed. Whoever was weirdest didn’t matter. Finding Sammie mattered.

  Tears slicked my eyes. Every breath carried the threat of a sob. I’d abandoned her when she needed me most. I should’ve fought harder.

  With shaky fingers, I prodded the bite marks Alex gave me. Hot blood oozed from them and coated my fingertips, but the heat searing through my veins beat it by a thousand degrees.

  The wound needed cleaning, and by cleaning I meant the entire area needed to be removed. But it wasn’t like I could rip my skin off.

  A nearby gutter puked rainwater from its spout, as if whatever the storm dumped had pooled on the roof, waiting to be drained. I splashed palmfuls of it against my neck. It wasn’t enough to flush out all the toxin so I squeezed the two tiny holes with my thumb and forefinger, hissing against the pain. Spiky shocks jerked down my arms, settling into a slow burn in my fingers.

  The toxin was circulating, but I had to hope I’d squirted some of it out to buy myself more time.

  I stumbled along, slowing from the loss of my adrenaline high combined with the toxin’s damage.

  Surrendering to it wasn’t an option. Sammie deserved better.

  I paused before launching onto the sidewalk of New City Avenue, the main artery running north to south. It was hard to imagine humans walked these streets decades ago, free, untranced, without the fear of being drained by immortal alien vampires.

  Curse their Arrival. Curse their leader, Nathan Abarron. It was his idea to enslave people and make Anemies outcasts. Then he’d ordered the raids to exterminate us because according to him we had no purpose.

  Or so I’d thought.

  The Vie sorting us during raids made more sense now. Well, it made a little sense. I wondered who figured out Vie could get high off our blood.

  Anemies—mostly kids and teenagers because of shortened lifespans thanks to our faulty blood—the new wonder drug. Consider my mind blown.

  I blinked sweat out of my eyes and refocused, ignoring the creeping darkness at the edges of my vision. I didn’t have time to think about the current state of the world. I had to survive.

  Example: I needed to check around the building’s edge at the corner before tumbling straight into the next street.

  A well-dressed Vie couple, braving the weather, exited the nearest building. It would be dawn soon, so they probably headed home. They turned in my direction. I held my breath. Running would attract their attention. So would my wound staining the air with the scent of my mutated blood. I tightened the collar of my shirt, covering the oozing holes, and retreated into the alley, tucking myself into the shadows. I imagined melting into the darkness, and as soon as I’d pictured it, my body started to dissolve. First, my fingers and toes then my hands and feet followed by my arms and legs. Torso and head, I floated into the shadows.

  Impossible.

  The female Vie’s chuckle sent shivers through me, slapping me back to reality. My body solidified instantly. It felt heavy, leaden, tomblike. Her laughter rattled again. It didn’t hold the light tone normally associated with joy. Like Alex’s, it rang hollow, cold, and distant. Her mate snickered in response. It reminded me of a bare branch scratching against a grimy pane of glass.

  The couple, so immersed in one another, passed by without so much as a glance my way. Satiated predators ignored an easy kill when they weren’t hungry. I relaxed, resting my hands against my knees. The swirling in my head remained long after my heart returned to a reasonable rate.

  How could I find Alex and Sammie if I had to worry about running into Vie every minute? I twisted the stake in my hands, wincing at the slivers driving into my fingers. I needed a place to hide until sunrise. Actually, I needed whatever help (maybe cure?) Alex had promised to give Sammie. Vie bites were deadly, but Alex acted like I had time to find him. Was it another lie?

  I’d have to bet yes by the way my body quaked, vision dimmed, and mind fuzzed.

  I rubbed my face with my hands. I had to keep clear, on point. Push through the haze and pain. For Sammie.

  I’d have to be a miracle and survive without treatment. Yeah, no problem. My fingers and toes buzzed like mad and the ache in my legs worsened with every passing minute. And the headache? Indescribable, unless I used words like “vice” and “grip” or “ice” and “pick.”

  A bead of salty sweat plunked into my eye. I blinked and rubbed it out, opening my eyes only after the stinging stopped. I hadn’t felt this bad since I was burned all those years ago. Dad had stayed with me day and night while I healed. He’d forced me to eat and drink when I didn’t want to. He’d changed my dressings, pausing only when I begged him to stop. We didn’t have the luxury of Antinocio tabs to kill the agony, just lip-melting jugs of moonshine.

  “We have to cut away the dead tissue,” he’d said, ruthless in his work.

  He’d hated every moment, every slice of the knife on my skin mirrored in the deepening creases of his face. It was necessary to save my life.

  I wished Dad were here now. He’d know what to do. Perhaps we had more in common than I thought. We’d both survived a talk with a Vie. Well, he’d survived right up until he hadn’t.

  A shadow skirted over me. I scanned the rooftops. Empty. Keeping my back to the wall and my gaze to the sky, I edged toward the street, pulse rushing through my ears, stake firm in my hand.

  Someone laughed, close. I craned my neck in every direction, squinting at the worsening blur of once solid objects melting into liquids. Perhaps the Vie couple had circled around. I sucked in a breath and dared a quick
look around the corner. Nope. I stood alone.

  More laughter followed another sweep of shadow overhead. Blazes, they were traveling by rooftop. Flushed out of my hiding spot, I darted out of the alley heading in the opposite direction of where I thought the Vie couple went.

  The pavement softened, melted, sucking in my bare feet. I fought against it, glomming onto the brick buildings for leverage. Then they dissolved too, leaving me to crawl, unaided, through the cold, gritty muck.

  What the hell was happening?

  I sprawled on my back, pinned to the ground, exhausted. Surrender tempted me.

  I’d let the concrete mud consume me. I deserved a cold grave.

  Pale light from the streetlamp pulsed, alternating cream and yellow. The iron pole bent gracefully toward the ground, and the bulb winked at me.

  I gasped. What the…?

  The glass shattered, showering me with millions of tiny shards. They sliced into me, little fangs searching for blood.

  I screamed.

  A street sign folded in on itself and barked in reply.

  I grabbed either side of my head and rolled into the street. The only thing still solid. With my cheek against the hard road, I laughed into a drain next to me. Its iron bars curved into a smile. You made it, it whispered.

  I recoiled, huddling on the crosswalk for safety. My lifeboat in a soupy world. Ultra-radiant light engulfed me, and the blare of a night tram bore down on me. The bus transporting slaves to their masters’ luxury apartments veered around me. I awkwardly scrambled out of the way… and landed on the sidewalk. I braced myself, terrified of falling into the goopy pit.

  My feet landed squarely on a hard surface.

  Huh?

  Nothing was out of place. The sidewalk had hardened. The light pole stood straight, its glass lamp whole. The street sign lay flat. And quiet. The storm drain no longer whispered.

  I stared at my hands. Empty.

  The stake. I’d lost it. No, no, no, no, no.

  I crawled on my hands and knees.

  There it was, at the base of a parking meter. I snatched it up and curled on the front steps of the nearest building. The stairs did not try to absorb me. My feverish brain had dreamed it up.

  The toxin was spreading.

  Journal of Alejandro Reyes

  Date: Year 75, Month 5, Day 18

  I found him.

  Then I lost him.

  Had we not been interrupted, I could have snuck him away, using his sister as a carrot. He seemed so motivated to assist her, even at his own peril.

  Perhaps I can still use her to get to him. He will no doubt be searching for her, as I will be searching for him. At some point, we’ll find each other. We have to.

  Everything I built depends on it.

  Year 75, Month 5, Day 18, morning

  arching footsteps woke me. I opened my eyes just to slits. The sun, too bright to handle, shined down on me, ignorant of the night I’d just survived. Dozens of human slaves passed by, each one rushing off to their daily assignments. Tranced to carry out whatever order their Vie masters gave, the human slaves were no better than meaty robots. They stepped around and over my legs, ignoring the fact that Anemie slime like me littered the sidewalk. I’m sure they’d prefer it if I didn’t lie in their way, but they were too busy doing their masters’ bidding to deal with me.

  Moving sent jabs of pain down my spine. Stairs. Right. I’d landed on stairs, and their edges dug into me. I groaned, probing my neck with shaky fingers. Blood crusted over the swollen and tender wound. Two dots, one for each of Alex’s fangs. I shivered. Wiped my brow. Still hot, but not sweaty. Strange. The toxin was supposed to be fatal if untreated. With any luck, I had squeezed some of it out. Didn’t explain my late night swim in melted cement, but it might explain why I still breathed, moved, and well, lived.

  Did Alex’s lack of concern count for something after all?

  I hefted myself up, leaning against the iron railing until the dizziness passed. The toxin hadn’t killed me—yet—but it had left me weakened. Closing my eyes made it worse. I burped, wincing at the acidic aftertaste. Throwing up would have relieved some of the pressure in my gut, but I my stomach held nothing to purge.

  Following the slaves marching toward the Elite District downtown seemed like the best idea, considering Alex had mentioned bringing Sammie to Abarron’s lab. I couldn’t be certain it was the truth, but it was a place to start. Along the way, I watched the masses for guards. Vie had a zero tolerance policy about Anemies entering the E. D., and their guards kept a close watch for us. Once I hit the district’s border, I’d have to stop. Until then, I’d search for more clues to Sammie’s whereabouts. Two things I held on to: Abarron’s lab was in the Elite District and Alex had an Elite ring. Therefore, he—and she—would most likely be there.

  I walked slowly to avoid raising suspicion. The more harmless I acted, the less likely a human slave, busy with their assignments, would notice that I slowly drew closer to an off-limits place. Sometimes invisibility was beneficial, and now that Vie hid tucked away in their protective buildings (no UV rays for them), I didn’t have to fear them attacking. Pausing at an electronics storefront, I watched the latest and greatest of Vie marketing. Window shopping—innocent enough, right?

  A holographic image of Vincent Marks stood centered over a round, metallic table. A black curtain provided a backdrop. The image was so clear, he looked like a doll you could pick up and carry off. It didn’t even flicker with his movement. Definitely an upgrade. He gestured with his hands now and then as if the audience literally sat in front of him. His mouth bobbed open and shut, far too pretty to be guppyish, but it reminded me of a fish just the same.

  A bright flash reflected off the window, momentarily blinding me. I blinked and turned away, catching the culprit. A truck drove past carrying a load of biodome panels stacked on their sides. The UV-blocking side faced me. Purples, blues, even golds swirled across its surface. I glanced at the panels already in place on the dome’s framework, crawling higher in the sky every day. A crane, taller than any building yet constructed, loomed over everything, slowly moving a panel to the next open spot. Human slaves dangled from wires connected to grid-like scaffolding, guiding the priceless and damning—for us humans—glass.

  I wondered what the slaves thought of the biodome and how much it’d cut us off from the world. Vie needed to block our sun for their safety. Invaders. Beings that didn’t belong here. Changing our world to suit their needs.

  Another flash blinded me, drawing my attention to the street.

  Several other trucks passed, all carrying panels. Each truck proudly boasted the name Abarron on its door.

  I put my back to it all.

  I’d like to send Abarron to outer space in a self-destructing rocket.

  Inside the store’s display, Vincent had been replaced by a hologram of a flat screen. Bright graphics streamed across its surface, designed to draw a Vie in. Dad had said they needed a lot of stimulation, otherwise they got bored quickly. Must be a side effect of immortality.

  Abarron’s name flashed at me. This time, the advertisement was for his laboratory. Words scrolled from top to bottom, while the background showed images of microscopes, narrow tubes filled with various colored liquids, and smiling, gorgeous Vie.

  Abarron Laboratories is committed to bringing you the finest quality pharmaceuticals and products, designed to enhance your life and your body. The scientists here at Abarron Laboratories work tirelessly to improve and innovate. In a few short weeks, the newest invention will be unveiled. It will once again revolutionize the world.

  Revolutionize the world—for aliens—and enslave, starve, or kill the natives. A dull throb pulsed in my temple.

  Time to leave the advertisement of Abarron greatness behind. I continued my slow trek to the Elite District.

  A few minutes later, one of the slaves kicked a small, shiny object out of their path. It skittered across the sidewalk and smacked against a steel planter. One of
its prongs was missing. The clear stones and silver on it were shaped like a snowflake.

  Sammie’s hair clip!

  Dad gifted it to her on her third birthday. Tears filled his eyes while he fastened it to her blonde curls. Its jeweled accents sparkled in the dying campfire. We’d stayed up long after the other community members went to sleep. The moment had deserved privacy.

  “This was your mother’s,” he’d said, voice cracking and tears running down his face. “Treasure it, little one, and know that she loved you very much.”

  I had almost sobbed with him. Sammie never got to meet Mom—she had died moments after Sammie was born. If I thought really hard, I could still recall Mom’s soft voice and light pine scent. She’d be devastated if she knew I’d failed Sammie. So would Dad. Then again, both of them had failed us. Look at me, carrying on the family tradition.

  I darted between a group of slaves, snatching the clip up before someone else kicked it out of their way. The metal prongs dug into my palm as I clenched my fist. This wasn’t garbage. This was a part of my sister, my mother, my father. A piece of my life.

  We’d always kept it pinned in her pocket so no one would try to steal it. It must’ve fallen while Alex carried her off. Another sign I closed in on him.

  I bit my lip, stopping myself from imagining the worst. She had to be alive.

  She had to.

  As much as I’d wandered the city with Sammie moving from hideout to hideout, we hardly ever ventured near downtown where the Elite lived. Any Anemie caught there never came back. No man’s land, considering it counted as pure Vie territory except, of course, for the human slaves working there during the day. They lived, well slept, elsewhere in the city. Actually, it was more accurately no Anemie land. That’s where Alex took her for sure, so that’s where I needed to go. A reverse invasion of one.

  A slave ahead of me sneezed, and his peers scattered. Illness, no matter how temporary, increased a slave’s chances of being decommissioned—drained of blood and cremated. Human slaves had no funerals, no graves, and no memorials. He paused at the street corner to blow his nose, angling toward me as he did. Something shined on the lapel of his light blue jumpsuit. A pin shaped like the letter E marking him as an Elite’s slave.