Cara MIA - By Book One of the Immortyl Revolution - By Denise Verrico Page 0,73
single word. I crossed to the window, pulling back the drape. Just past sunset, workers were waiting for busses or running to subways. Horns blared and auto exhaust worked its way into the house, bringing along a whiff of charcoal.
The first snowfall had come early. By the time I awakened, the street below my window was blanketed in white. I placed my hands flat against the windowpane to feel the cold. Placing my lips up to the glass I left a frosty kiss etched there.
He opened his door and crossed the hall to mine. There was a soft knock. I sighed, and then crossed the room to admit him. He hadn’t sought me out in a while.
After it was done, he left me without so much as a thank you, and went out. I watched as he left, wondering how it would be to never touch the satin texture of his skin again, to feel the hardness of his muscle against me, or bury my nose in the perfumed darkness of his hair.
Female scent mingled with Chanel Number Five clung to Ethan’s clothes when he returned mornings. He said he was fucking some attorney, who, he took great pleasure in informing me, was like a super model in a magazine, beautiful and brilliant. He’d retained her firm’s services to handle the acquisition of some biotech companies for Brovik.
I whispered under my breath as the door closed, “Maybe tonight I’ll actually leave you.”
I rose from the bed and went to the bathroom, turning on the hot water full blast to let the room steam up before I went in. I poured in some bath oil. The tiny room filled with the aroma of jasmine. I slipped into the tub imagining myself in the garden in Virginia, lying on the grass on a summer’s night long ago staring at the stars.
I picked up the old fashioned straight razor I’d taken from Ethan’s bathroom, running its cold edge against my wrist to watch the blood well up. I ran my tongue over and tasted the salt-iron flavor. The wound immediately clotted. It would take a much larger cut to kill me. I touched the sharp edge to my throat and closed my eyes. There was his face. I pressed the edge of the blade harder against my carotid artery. It would make a big spray, all over the pristine white marble and he’d be so furious. I pressed it harder, breaking out in a sweat. Couldn’t do it. Chicken shit. Still, I wanted to wound him in some way. I lay in the water for an hour trying to think of something.
As steam evaporated from the mirror, my face appeared, engulfed in masses of dark hair. I cocked my head to the side and held out a long lock. It was almost as hard as cutting my throat, but this would annoy him about as much as finding the bathroom covered in my blood. I took a deep breath, and then began hacking with the razor. My boyish reflection, sans make-up and spiky hair pleased me immensely.
What to do to amuse myself? I’d tired of television, even with all the cable channels, and the only books in the place I hadn’t already read were Ethan’s tomes. What could be more fascinating than the snow itself, each unique flake a study of hexagonal perfection? I wanted to catch them and feel them on my face.
The grandfather’s clock in the hall chimed eight. I dressed in the jeans and leather jacket I’d bought from a catalogue with Ethan’s credit card. At the last moment, I spied my art nouveau butterfly pendant on the dressing table and picked it up, twirling it in my fingers. It was the first and prettiest thing Ethan ever gave me. I couldn’t resist putting it on.
As I descended the stairs, the door opened and Ethan came in. He wasn’t alone. I caught the scent, female Immortyl with a hint of Chanel Number Five. He’d gone and done it!
Her huge, amber eyes were shocked when she saw me. Not as shocked as I was. She stood at least six two, with strong, broad shoulders under her camel coat. Her sculpted face, with cheekbones Nefertiti would envy, was surrounded by masses of deep copper curls, but her skin wasn’t like any Immortyl that I’d yet seen, not palest white or even faintly gold, but a warm gold-brown.
She spoke in a velvety, husky voice, “You’d better say this is your little sister, Ethan.”