Cara MIA - By Book One of the Immortyl Revolution - By Denise Verrico Page 0,79
as mortals. Not that they came specifically in search of me, but if they chanced upon me they availed themselves of the convenience. A few even offered to take me in. I once had the unparalleled privilege of entertaining Kalidasa, the huge, quivering mound of lard that was the chief elder. Disgusting. These suitors were no more welcome a sight to me than to Penelope but they didn’t hurt me, well, not enough to kill me, just enough to make it fun for them. They compensated me well for my trouble. It helped pay the bills.
Spring passed, summer arrived again, the second on my own. It turned hot and unbearably humid. Air so thick you could cut it with a knife. Mortals spilled out of buildings like blood. Luckier ones had air-conditioning or escaped to summer homes by the sea. Even I wasn’t invulnerable to the sweltering greenhouse. I went to the movies to deal with the heat and boredom and tried to hunt closer to home, where there was less chance of meeting other vampires. On sultry nights mortals lingered along the waterfront, seeking sex, drugs, or both.
One of these early mornings, I made a quick kill of a junkie on the piers then dumped the body in the Hudson, amusing myself by thinking up a fitting epitaph for the deceased as he slipped below the oily brown water. A television jingle I’d heard years before popped into my head.
Plop, plop, fizz, fizz. Oh, what a relief it is.
Breeze kicked up, cooling the sluggish air. I ran my fingers through my hair and shivered. The wind felt like a tongue on the exposed parts of my body. I toyed with the idea of picking up a mortal, but they’re generally disappointing sexually. I sighed, resigning myself to relieving my tension manually at home, when a footstep soft as a cat’s paw fell on the pavement. Turning around, I sniffed but there was no scent. Whatever it was it was upwind. A heartbeat, a little faster than a mortal at rest came toward me, closer and closer. Now I scented him, one of us, male and very close, possibly a sewer rat. I took off running, but he called my name in sweet voice.
“Mee-ya?”
I stopped, heart pounding, and turned around slowly as a slight figure emerged from the shadows into the streetlight— so close I felt his breath on my face— an arm’s length away. Dressed in a blue button-down shirt, jeans and sneakers, he looked like a student. Breeze ruffled his honey-colored hair as the streetlight caught his remarkable eyes, sending another, deeper shiver down around my pelvis.
“Kurt?” I whispered, believing him a hallucination brought on by narcotics in my victim’s blood.
He smiled, the nerve of him. I snapped out of my reverie. “What took you so fucking long?”
“Forgive me. I’d have come sooner… ”
“But Brovik wouldn’t let you, and you always do what he says like a good little boy.”
I stomped away, but his plaintive voice stopped me, “I fought hard to come here.”
I whirled on him. “He needs me to give some politician a blowjob? Or do you handle that exclusively now?”
If my insult hurt he didn’t flinch. He was much more concerned with other matters. He glanced around nervously. “Can we go somewhere private to talk?”
“I’ve nothing to say to you.”
Kurt displayed the characteristic stillness of our race, a carefully honed ability to disguise emotion. He’d had the best tutor and reflected his master’s indomitable calm. But I sensed turbulence swirling under the surface. He lowered his head for a moment then looked me straight in the face with those eyes. Zap! “I know what you think. Hear me out. I’m offering assistance.”
“Don’t need it.” I broke away toward my apartment.
Kurt caught my arm. “Gaius has dogs kenneled here. It’s only a matter of time before Dirk crosses your path.”
I turned to face him. “I can handle him.”
He gave me this sad puppy dog look. “Please Mee-ya, I’ve come such a long way.” I hesitated. “I’ve been very stubborn about you.” He held up his slender fingers. “I threatened to leave, and I hold Brovik’s empire in these hands.”
“And he holds your life in his.”
He shrugged, a small smile warming his face, a very different kind of smile than thirty-four years before. “How much work can he get out of me dead? We’ll go somewhere to talk, yes?”
“We’ve got two hours till dawn.” I started across the street. “This way… ”