the origin story of the nanos, that they’d been created in Atlantis eons ago. That the mythological Atlantis was advanced technologically as some stories suggested. That scientists there had created the nanos as a noninvasive way to cure disease and repair injuries. But that it went wrong. The nanos didn’t self-destruct and flush from the body once they returned it to what was considered a peak condition as intended, but continued to keep their host at their peak, making us basically immortal.
“She also told me about the South American Council, explained that they were our governing body, and then she told me about the Enforcers the Council sent out to make sure we followed the laws the Council made. She followed that up with our laws; that we are allowed to turn only one, which is usually saved to change a life mate. That we are only allowed one child every hundred years. That we are never ever to draw attention to ourselves, and—at that time before the existence of blood banks—that we must always be careful not to take too much blood and harm mortals. After making me repeat those laws to her to be sure I understood, she left me to rest.
“The next time I woke up Señorita Ana was there again and she started right into my training. First she taught me to bring on my fangs and make them retract, then she concentrated on teaching me to read mortals, and then on controlling them. Once I’d mastered all of that, she took me out to teach me to hunt for safe donors and so on.” Ildaria paused to take another sip of her cocoa, and then set the mug down with a small sigh before admitting, “But when three weeks of training passed and I still had no memory of how I had been turned or who had done it, Señorita Ana decided my inability to remember was psychological rather than physical. She felt sure the turn should be far enough along by that point that the memories must be there. I was simply refusing to face them for some reason. She wanted to involve the Council. Her father was the head of the South American Council and would surely help if she asked. She felt sure they would be able to get into my thoughts and find the memories I was refusing. She was also sure they would want to know who had turned me.
“The idea of meeting the Council was frightening to a fourteen-year-old girl. The Council passed life and death sentences, but I wanted to know what had happened, so didn’t protest and Señorita Ana said she would send a message to the Council that night. She warned me, though, that it might be several days before they could convene to meet with me. Which, to be honest, felt like a reprieve in my mind.
“It was nearing dawn when she left me. I had been up all night training, and was exhausted, so fell asleep the minute I was alone. But I didn’t sleep well or long. I guess the idea of meeting with the Council was more troubling to me than even I had realized.”
Ildaria shrugged. “Whatever the case, I was awake well before noon and went down to the kitchens to visit with my abuela.” She smiled softly at the memory. “I had seen her every day, but not for long. Usually just for a few minutes before she left at night. But that day we spent all afternoon together. I helped her with the cooking, and we chatted and laughed, and then before she left, she told me that she was glad that I had become immortal. That she would never need worry about me again. No chico malo could take me away from her like my mother had been taken away. And she told me that she loved me, and saw only good things for me in my future.”
Ildaria paused for a minute, recalling her grandmother’s shining eyes filled with happiness and hope that last afternoon. “To her mind, my being turned had lifted me up. I was now one of the immortals, above the rabble to her mind. She was sure only good things could come to me now.” Ildaria sighed at the memory. “Neither of us could know how wrong she was. I certainly didn’t, and I didn’t know when I hugged her goodbye that it would be the last time I saw her.”