Cara MIA - By Book One of the Immortyl Revolution - By Denise Verrico Page 0,51
laboratory. Kurt has contacts among the rats. They see everything. Brovik sent me here to alert Ethan. This still may work to our advantage.” Philip and Ethan exchanged a meaningful look that worried me. “Just do all Ethan says, and everything will be fine.”
It was the beginning of the end. A Nordic chill had extinguished some of the heat between Ethan and me. Philip left us soon after the incident with Gaius. When he said goodbye, I clung to the only link I had to anything other than Ethan, begging him to stay.
“I have a summons from the hall of the mountain king to attend him now that he’s in winter residence,” Philip said.
“And you always speak so highly of him,” Ethan commented.
“It’s the mise en scene I object to, snow, ice and forests primeval.”
Philip brushed my tears away. “Ethan wants you back to himself, child. Look, she still sheds tears.” He caught them on the tips of his fingers, looking at them in wonder, “Like winter’s drops…”
“And you who are but air, can you have one thought, one feeling for their afflictions?”
“Always were you’re concerned little one. Any message, Ethan?”
Ethan shook his head, and they embraced. I lingered for a moment, after Ethan went inside.
Philip chuckled. “You have question marks in your eyes, little one.”
“About Kurt… ”
A smile slid over Philip’s face. “Don’t be surprised if Brovik sends him from time to time bearing messages.” He slipped an envelope into my hand. “Read this sometime when you’re alone.” He kissed me on the cheek, sighing. “I must fly. Ciao.”
Jumping into his Bugati, he revved up the engine, waved and sped away. Knowing Ethan would be closeted in his study for hours, I sat on the stone steps of the villa and opened Kurt’s letter. It was phrased in an oddly charming, old-fashioned, formal way. I tried to conjure what he looked like from Philip’s descriptions. All I could imagine was an angel… ”
Mia stared toward Kurt’s cell. Joe stretched and asked, “So Brovik had labs and stuff even back then?”
She shook her head.
“When?”
“Later.”
In this mood he wouldn’t get much out of her, and he was already exhausted and ready to call it quits. “We can end here— have anything for Kurt tonight?”
She held out an envelope. He stuffed the letter in his pocket, half tempted to go and steam it open to decipher the code, but Kurt would know, and in any case, code devised by that shrewd little cherub would be impossible to crack.
A few seconds later, Joe was at Kurt’s door. The vampire sat playing softly, blond head slightly bent over the keys, not looking up as the door whooshed open. “Yes Doctor?”
Tchaikovsky, a ballet, what was it? A familiar theme, The Dying Swan.
Joe hugged the doorway, something warned him not to venture too close. “A letter, I’ll just set it on the table and go.”
Kurt looked up and regarded Joe’s face. Apparently satisfied by what he saw he murmured, “Still no computer, Doctor? I’ve made several requests now. They’re wasting their time. No one is ever going to access anything.”
Joe cleared his throat. “Lydia stonewalls me. She suggests I speak to Lee Brooks myself.”
Kurt’s eyes became focused and sharp. “You’re meeting with her?”
“I’m trying to set it up. I’ve e-mailed her, but she never answers. Lydia will remind her when she sees her next.”
“I wish to speak to her myself— if you’d kindly arrange it. And could you bring me the major newspapers? I’d like to know what’s happening outside.”
Joe nodded as he punched the code at the door. “I’ll see to it.”
“You look awful Doctor. Are you getting enough sleep?”
“No. I feel like hell.” Did he see a faint smile on Kurt’s face as his head bent once more to the instrument? “What are you telling Mia to do in these letters?”
“You think she does as I tell her? You obviously haven’t learned anything in your sessions with her.”
“You influence her.”
Kurt flashed his chilling smile. “I simply remind her of why we’re here.”
“And that is?”
“None of your affair.”
“What the hell is going on here exactly?”
Kurt didn’t even blink. “Do you play chess, Doctor?”
“Chess? What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“I like chess. Play with me.”
“I don’t have time for games.”
Kurt shrugged, and went back to playing. “Get me a board. Maybe we’ll talk.”
TEN
* * * *
Late the following afternoon, Joe looked up to see Lydia at his door, not dressed in a lab coat, but wearing a chic red suit, smelling of