Cara Mia - Book One of the Immortyl Revolution (25 page)

At first I wouldn’t leave the tiny apartment until hunger got the better of me. As soon as I was sated I’d hurry back to my basement lair and huddle on the futon watching television, reading or listening to music, shocked by the sudden change in my fortunes. Finally boredom won and I took to the streets. Ah, life in Manhattan without my master, a chance to revel in complete anonymity. No one noticed me or saw any reason to run away screaming in horror. Guys would give me a second look or sometimes make an animal sound but no one really cared if I lived or died. After thirty-six years of Ethan breathing down my neck it was a relief.

I’d go to a coffee shop around the corner for a light meal and to read the newspapers. I’d order a decaf cappuccino, wrapping my hands around the warmth and enjoying the aroma. No one gave a damn if I drank it or not. Afterward, I’d explore a different part of town. On nights they were open late, I went to museums. After a lucrative kill, I’d splurge on tickets to the theater or opera. I went to a lot of movies.

So far, I hadn’t seen any of my own kind, which suited me fine. I spent the rest of that first winter like this.

I saw no
Immortyls
for almost a year. I wasn’t sure if I was happy about this or depressed, because I was horribly lonely. I couldn’t just strike up a friendship with a mortal or take a mortal lover, after a few weeks he or she would notice my irregularities and there would be problems.

Then one night, I polished off a drug dealer and had a little money to burn. A play I wanted to see was set to close, so I went to TKTS to obtain a ticket. I had time to kill before the show, so I went to an upscale bar and ordered a Virgin Mary, sipping at it while I scanned the crowd, scouting for potential danger. The place was packed with the pre-theatre crowd, noisy and convivial, older couples and well-dressed young people engaged in conversation but this was the kind of expensive place a passing Immortyl might frequent. A youngish man in wire-rimmed glasses sauntered up to the bar, striking up a conversation about how dreary the season was and how he hoped next year would bring something other than revivals and overblown London musicals. I half listened to his droning, when the hairs on the back of my neck prickled.
Immortyl scent.
Male.

I looked around— couldn’t see him. I was safe in a crowd but remained wary. Whoever he was, he was coming closer through the crowd of mortals. Then I saw his face. I knew this one.

Philip was dressed in black leather, his dark hair shorter, sporting a neatly trimmed beard and mustache, a diamond stud glittering in his ear. He wrapped his arms about me and kissed me. “Darling child, what on earth have you gotten yourself into?”

The man I’d been speaking to excused himself sheepishly.

“Who’s that?” Philip asked, as he watched him depart.

“Indigestion,” I answered. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“And you’re in a pickle, wench.”

I shrugged. “Been this way a year.”

Philip whisked me over to a booth off to the side, recently vacated. “Come, we need to talk.” He sat down close to me, keeping his voice low. “I came as soon as I could. Ethan came to London just last week. He’s at his wit’s end with Leisha. I fear she’ll kill him if she gets the chance.”

“No great loss.”

“You’re coming home with me.”

“I’m not going back to him!”

“I’m not suggesting it.
I’m
taking you in. You can’t stay here alone. I don’t need to spell it out. Ethan was ready to dump Leisha onto the streets, but she’s far too dangerous to us. Brovik is furious. I’m not certain how he’ll punish Ethan. Leisha was working very closely with us, and her disappearance caused uncomfortable scrutiny from the authorities. Brovik had no idea Ethan was behind it, until I called Kurt and told him everything. After recovering from the initial shock, Kurt suggested Leisha come to work with him, and for the present you come with me. He’ll smooth things over with the old one and meet us in London as soon as he can get away.”

“Oh, will he now?”

“Get off of it, Mia. After all these years, Kurt still cares for you.”

Not wanting to re-open that wound, I changed the subject. “So, what do you think of her?”

“
Formidable
, amazing looking but
well
… It’s best the old one keep an eye on her.”

I gave a sarcastic roll of the eyes. “I’m sure he’ll find good use for her.”

Philip took me by the hand. “C’mon, let’s gather up your traps.”

I refused to budge. “I’m not going. This is where I belong. For what it’s worth, I’m free. Even you won’t put a leash on me again.”

“Mia, we’re blood kin. I pledge my protection as a brother. I place no bonds on you. Listen to me, if I take you in the stigma of outcast is removed.”

“I don’t give a shit what they think of me.”

“You can’t survive out here alone!”

“I’ve managed so far.”

Philip sighed. “Maybe you have a place to live and managed to get a hold of some money, you’re a smart wench, but you’re living on borrowed time, my darling. What do you think will happen when the Wolf gets wind of this? Do you think Dirk’s forgotten how you humiliated him?”

I shook my head. “No one gives a shit about me.”

He shook his head. “Hopefully Kurt can persuade you. He gives much more than a
shit
about you.”

My heart skipped a beat in spite of itself. “Fucking liar, just like the rest… ”

“Don’t blame him for that nasty trick Brovik played on you. Kurt never meant to deceive you. Honestly, Kurt knew nothing, had no part in it. I swear. The boy has a mind of his own.”

“He’s in his sixties now, hardly a boy anymore, but even if he is all you claim, Brovik won’t let him near me until he figures out an angle to benefit him.”

“If ever two were destined for one another… ” Philip took my hands, enfolding them in his own. “When Brovik first approached me with this possibility of harnessing immortality, I was skeptical to say the least. You and Kurt are the only ones who understand the pitfalls of this endeavor. Only a slave understands the dangers of absolute power.” Philip’s face looked careworn as he raised my hands to his lips. “Please Mia, say you’ll come home with me.”

I leaned my forehead against his. “You’re my only friend but I’m sorry. I love you but if I can’t go with you. I’ll stay here, even if it means I die here. I’ve got to go.”

I got up to leave. Philip hugged me. “I’m always at you service, little one. You need only call and I’ll come.”

I withdrew from his arms. “Gotta ticket to a play, maybe we can get one for you?”

“I have to go back— business matters.”

I hugged him. “Goodbye, old fool.”

He slipped a knife into my bag. “Be careful, sweet sister, I wouldn’t lose you for the world.”

“I can handle myself, remember? I’m the Bird of Prey.”

“Kurt
will
come, Mia, now that Ethan is out of the picture. Don’t turn him away.”

The aching loneliness I’d staved off in the past months washed over me. I hesitated. Why not just go with Philip and find out? But to go was to accept Brovik’s yoke around my neck again. Not even the sweet temptation of Kurt would make me give up my hard-won freedom to that bastard.

“I’ll think about it.” I pushed my way out of the bar and into the chilly spring, breathing in the crisp air. Mortals filled the streets like so many cattle, but I barely noticed their scent as I made my way to the theatre. My mind was occupied with everything Philip had told me. Maybe all Ethan had said about Kurt was just another of his myriad lies. Maybe Kurt was everything his letters and our brief meetings promised. For the first time in decades, I saw a ray of hope.

But despite Philip’s prediction, Kurt didn’t come. Loneliness gnawed harder now that I’d given it a fresh opening. I chided myself. Kurt had no interest in me except to further Brovik’s plans. His master’s love was the only thing he desired. It was a very shrewd philosophy, actually. He remained Brovik’s prized possession, while no one cared if a cast-off like me lived or died.

I didn’t see Philip again for a long time. In fact, I didn’t run across any Immortyls for a long time. It’s a big city and I never haunted the same place often. Ethan had told me there were sewer rats there, so I was always careful to mingle in crowds of mortals, but aside from seeing furtive dark shapes and hearing whispers from the shadows, I never encountered them. Still, there was the omnipresent problem of taking victims down in private venues where one wouldn’t be observed. I couldn’t kill in hotel rooms or apartments. Those measures were only taken in extreme circumstances. It was much better to lure them to a secluded spot, where I could easily dispose of the remains, or ambush them unawares in some dark and forsaken corner, but once I strayed away from mortal eyes, I left myself vulnerable to attack from my own kind, and as Philip had warned, my luck couldn’t hold out forever.

Inevitably, one night a pang of hunger awakened me. I was pretty good at reading the early warning signs now and took Ethan’s advice to feed early before my judgment was impaired. Hopping a subway uptown to the park, I took down a would-be rapist, taking a dozen nice thick gold chains, a diamond ear stud, some cash, a watch and a gram of coke. Not a bad night’s hunting. After I slashed the throat with my hunting knife to disguise the teeth marks, I dragged the body into the trees and hid it under some brush, scooping out a shallow grave for burial. Then I stopped off at the Turtle Pond to wash off the dirt and gore.

I followed the path up to the Belvedere Castle and stood for a while on the overlook, surveying the deserted Delacorte Theatre across the water, reflecting on my own little
Winter’s Tale
, cast out to the elements at the mercy of wild beasts like the infant Perdita. Yet this is what I wanted, wasn’t it? Freedom— yes— but not complete solitude, cut off from my own kind however reprehensible they might be. Post-feed languor washed over me. Stretching out on the stone railing, I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the cool wind wash over my face, wishing for someone to share the zipping and popping inside of my veins. Kurt materialized in my mind, looking as he did standing on the terrace in Italy, skin like porcelain and eyes filled with light. His hand reached out to me and he smiled. I might have joined him in my fancy if the smallest sound hadn’t alerted me, the snapping of a twig and soft footsteps.

My hair suddenly stood on end.
Danger!
As I rose to my feet, I caught the scent,
two, males, unfamiliar
from the direction of the Ramble. Company was on its way, and I doubted it would be congenial. The wind was in my favor and chances were they didn’t scent me yet. I took off like a spooked doe down the hill and through the trees toward the streets. The brightly lit Museum of Natural History and eighty-second street subway stop lay ahead. I didn’t dare waste a moment to look behind.

I thought I was in the clear at last, when one of them headed me off, catching me just as I ran through an underpass. He dragged me off into the trees where his companion waited.

As the moon came out of the clouds I got a good look at them.
Rat,
almost grown up, dressed in much the same fashion as I, in jeans and leather jackets, pale white. Both had piercings in their lips, noses and ears. The taller one smiled down at me struggling in his arms. “We’ve been hunting the park for years. Never found anything like you.”

“Let me go.”

The other crossed in front of me. “Not a very warm welcome.”

They had no accents, recently made in the U.S.A, still very human in appearance, too many little twitches and gestures, and no class.

“Mmm. Pure uptown. Whose baby are you?”

I didn’t let on I was afraid. “There are four million mortals on this island. Find one of them to bleed.”

“Nothing like that. Just party with us.”

“Ever heard of the Northman?”

They glanced at one another.

The taller one shrugged. “Cat’s some fucking Viking or something.”

“See the ring on my finger? He finds out you’ve been bothering me you can kiss your sorry asses goodbye, got it?”

“Never heard one of them letting their women run around Central Park on their own. Come on babe, we’ll give you something pretty.”

They didn’t bother with more conversation. The tall one held me while the other raped me. Then they switched places. Afterward, they argued the easiest way to drag me back to their lair. The tall boy pulled a gun, jabbing it into my ribs. “Listen, no funny stuff babe, you’re going to come along like a good girl. Once we’re home you’re going to do what just we say or we’ll bleed you. Got it?”

“I’m the Northman’s blood. You can’t do this.”

The shorter one laughed. “The Northman won’t give a shit about some cast off piece of tail.”

“Take the ring,” the tall one said.

I lifted my legs, kicking the one holding me in the groin. He doubled over in pain, clutching himself. While he staggered to his feet the other cold cocked me with the gun. Everything went black.

When I came to, they were dragging me to the street, still arguing about what to do next. I spotted a large, African-American beat cop and screamed bloody murder. The two of them dropped me, and took off into the park again. The cop ran over and knelt down beside me.

“You okay sweetheart? Those punks hurt you?”

I wiped blood from the corner of my mouth. “I’m okay.”

His huge brown hand reached out to help me to my feet. He frowned as he observed my torn clothes. “They mess with you? You should go to a hospital. I’ll call an ambulance. We’ll pick them up. They won’t get far. “

I shook my head. “I’m fine. Just want to go home.”

He looked doubtful. “If you say so. Stay out of the park at night, you hear? It’s no place for you.”

He patted my shoulder. I headed downtown along Central Park West. They’d taken all my cash, so a cab was out of the question. I was completely broke. I didn’t think I could feel much worse than I already did, but these two proved just how fragile my situation was. Tears jabbed my eyes as I walked the long blocks downtown. I’d been so stupid to let down my guard and for what, a fantasy of someone who couldn’t care less if I lived or died?