Blood (16 page)

              “How does the body do that?”

              “I’m not a doctor, so I’ve only got the vaguest idea of the science behind it.  The cells in our bodies are more efficient so require less air and food.  With any injury to the body, repairs begin immediately and work much more quickly than yours.  Our bodies can create new blood almost as fast as it can be lost, so it is nearly impossible for a Chosen to bleed to death.  As long as the heart, lungs and brain remain intact the body can usually return to normal within a few days.  If one of the main organs is damaged, it may take longer.”

              “Are you talking about regeneration?  You mean you can actually regrow a lost arm or leg?”

              “Oh, yes.  I’ve seen it done.  It would probably take ten days or so, but it happens from time to time.  The person has to stay in seclusion, of course, while the regeneration takes place.”

              “Incredible.  What other powers do you have?”

              “Most of our powers were discussed by that traitor whose execution brought us to this situation.  Not being a doctor, I can’t add much to what he told you.”

              “You seem to know everything that Patrick told us and what he didn’t.”

              “Yes, well you forget that I am the one who killed your Commissioner of Police.  It was I who stole the tape.  I watched it once before I destroyed it.  I failed to take into account your making copies of the tape earlier.”

              “Speaking of Patrick, he seemed to recognize you in the tape just before he died.  Had you ever met him?”

              O’Mullens gave a hearty laugh at this question.  “Did I know him?  My dear man, it was I who made him what he was.   It was I who chose him.”

Chapter 9

              “I forget the exact year - maybe 1670 or a little before.”  The senator’s face seemed to lose twenty years as she went back in her mind.  “My house in London had just been destroyed during the Great Fire in that city.  The city was devastated!  People were living in the street or out in the woods.  I lost nearly everything, but the Foundation stepped in.  They have a fund for helping us when we need it.”

              “What Foundation?  The Walachia Foundation?  Is it run by the Chosen?”

              O’Mullens seemed startled by the interruption.  She was so wrapped up in her memories that she had forgotten that she needed to watch what she was saying.  “How did you know . . . ? Never mind!  Where was I?  Ah, yes,  London.”

              Her eyes grew far away again.  “I had just gone through regeneration, so I was young, beautiful and sexy.  I was also homeless.  Being three hundred years old, moving in with family was not a viable option - my family had been dead for centuries.  Neither was living alone an acceptable choice - young single ladies just didn’t do that in those days.  Not if they were ladies.”

              “I approached the Foundation and they put me in touch with another member of the Chosen who had been burned out.  She proved to be an older, supposedly widowed lady, who was nearing regeneration.  I posed as her niece.  This masquerade proved a blessing for both of us - it gave us both respectability.  We found a nice house in a small town near London.  I can’t remember the name of the town now, but it was a pretty little place about an hour out of the city.  It’s probably part of London now, with the way everything has grown over the years.”

              She tried to shift her position but the tape shackles were unforgiving.  “We had just gotten settled when the boy came along.  Oh my, he was such a hunk!  Tall, dark and handsome, with strong shoulders and arms.  His father had a farm just down the road from our house.  He used to walk past our house every morning on his way to the blacksmith he was apprenticing for and how I used to look forward to his tousled head passing by.  I had the hots for him the first time I saw him.  But he was young and shy.  He wouldn’t even talk to me, let alone do anything else.  Remember, I was recently regenerated again after being middle-aged and past my prime sexually.  The change had awoken my sexuality again.  My body went into heat every time I saw this boy.  I took to lying in wait for him and positioning myself to show off my best features.  I’d watch for him and, when he came into sight, bend over as if to pick up a tool or weed a flower.  One time I would be facing him and give him a view of my cleavage all the way down to Singapore.  The next time I would be facing away, letting him admire my taut little ass.  And make no mistake about it - my ass is great when I’m young.”

              Underwood mulled over the wording of that statement as she continued.  “Quite often I would sneak a peek and catch him adjusting himself as he grew large at the sight of my features.  But he was soooo shy - he would just turn red, adjust his trousers, and walk on.  I tried speaking to him, even though young ladies were not supposed to speak to anyone unless spoken to in those days.  The only response would be a crimson-faced grunt.  I began to despair.   After all, the nearest man other than him was a manure encrusted fifty year old pig farmer.”

              “I imagine it was frustrating.”

              “Frustrating?  You don’t know the half of it!  I was trying so hard to act pure and chaste.  Believe me, it wasn’t easy for someone who hadn’t been a virgin for two hundred years.”

              “How did you finally break the ice?”

              “One day while he was walking by, I pretended to faint.  As I fell I let my dress hike up nearly to my waist.  He came running over to help me and knelt down beside my body before he realized that he had a clear view of all my charms, shall we say.  He stopped dead just inches from me, torn between wanting to assist me and being awed by the spectacular view before his eyes.  As I recall, I had forgotten to wear undergarments that day.”  The twinkle in her eye was unmistakable as she continued.   “When nothing happened for a minute, I snuck a peek.  The front of his pants was doing a great imitation of Pinocchio after a few lies.  Suddenly I was the one in awe.”  Her eyes grew wide and she shook her head as the memories came flooding back.  “Anyway I pretended to wake up, expressed surprise and gratitude that he would come to my aid, and reached up to thank him with a kiss.  My hand managed to reach out for leverage and you can imagine where it landed.  Without getting too risque let’s just say he needed no more coaxing.  Once we started, he was magnificent.  And so eager to please.”

              “I’m sorry I asked.  I’m getting an inferiority complex just listening to this story.”

              “He was a country bumpkin, but inferior he was not.  We stayed together for many years and I think he was one of the few men I ever truly loved.”

              Underwood frowned.  “And yet you killed him.”

              She seemed confused by the statement.  “He was going to betray us all.  I did what had to be done.”  She waved her hand in dismissal.  “Besides he had left my life long before.  The Patrick you met was not the man I loved so many regenerations ago.  We stayed together only until his first regeneration.

              Her story fascinated Underwood.  “How did you get him to join you?”

              “That wasn’t difficult.  Remember he was a country boy with no formal schooling.  We were married within a month.  I told him that it was a custom where I was from to seal a marriage with blood.  At that time he was so in lust with me, he would have agreed to swap feet with me if I asked.  When he felt his strength increase days later, I explained that my blood had made him part of a superhuman group of people, and told him he could live forever.  It took a few days of experimenting with his strength and intellect before he actually believed that.”

              Underwood’s fingers continued their Olympic events.  “How did you explain the change in your aunt?”

              “I didn’t.  Within a year of our marriage, she suddenly ‘died.’  With the help of a friendly doctor, and a sealed coffin (another custom from my homeland - I can’t remember where I said I was from, but he believed every word I said anyway,)  she went back to the Foundation, and started over in a different city.  We ‘inherited’ the house and lived there for many years.  Patrick was a wonderful husband.  However he was such an innocent, I didn’t tell him about the regeneration part until much later, when he wondered why he was still growing old.  I still didn’t tell him about the blood sacrifice until it was time.  That’s why he left me.”

              A questioning look from Underwood and she continued.  “He was still an innocent after all those years.  I guess that’s why I loved him so.  He had enormous strength, even before he was chosen.  And afterwards, he was probably the strongest of all, with a tremendous intelligence as well.  But he didn’t flaunt either quality.  He considered them gifts and never boasted, even among the Chosen.  A wagon got stuck near our house one time.  He could have pulled it out himself with no difficulty.  Instead he got five neighbors together and worked with them to free the wagon.  Afterwards he praised the strength of the others, not to hide his gift but to make the others feel that they made the difference.  Before his first regeneration, that’s the kind of man he was.”

              Underwood urged her on.  “And after . . .?”

              The senator looked out in space and sighed as she went back in time.  “My change came first.  When I felt the first urgings, I didn’t dare let him know how the change was triggered.  I went to London for a few days, supposedly to visit relatives.  That night I found a victim and made the change.  When I came back to my husband as a young girl, he was astounded.  I explained to him that he would change in due time.  In the meantime, I had to wear lots of makeup to appear middle-aged long enough to sell the farm.  I had become an expert in makeup over the years.  He loved making love during that time.  When the makeup came off I become young again.  Like most middle-aged men, it made him feel younger to make love to a young girl.  It didn’t matter to me that he was still old.  I was in love with him and he made me happy.  When we moved, I got rid of the makeup, and became his daughter to the world.  We continued in this manner for a little more than a year, father and daughter in public, husband and wife in private.”  Her wistful smile turned into a frown.  “Then came his change.”  

              She looked down at her bonds.  “This tape is really cutting off my circulation.  Could you loosen it please?”

              The Captain looked grim.  “Not a chance.  You’ve already tried to kill me once today.  Besides we both know that you’ll have no lasting injuries.”  He paused to consider the situation, and continued.  “Let’s reach an agreement.  I promise that I will free you when we are done.  I won’t leave you here.  In exchange you’ll help me understand more about the Chosen.  Now let’s go back to your story.  What happened when he encountered the change?”

              Her wistful look turned sad.  “He began to get moody and quarrelsome.  That’s normal when the change begins, so I knew I couldn’t put off telling him the rest of the story.  At first he thought I was teasing.  When he finally realized I was serious, he claimed it was impossible.  He believed will power alone could get him through the crisis.  As the moodiness got worse, he started taking it out on me, blaming me for not telling him.  And still the craving got worse.  It’s like being a heroin addict.  You feel that you can’t live without it.  But with drug addiction, if you can suffer through the withdrawal long enough, the craving lessens and you can be cured.  He thought his will power could help him over the hump.  But with the change, the craving doesn’t ebb.  It continues to increase in intensity.  The only cure is the blood bath.  When he couldn’t stand it any longer, he tried killing a dog and using that blood.  It didn’t work.  He tried several animals without success.  He even tried suicide, shooting himself.  An hour later he woke up.  His wounds were healing.  He tried poison, hanging, drowning.  All it did was increase the pain - he couldn’t die.”

              The senator shook her head as the memories flowed back.  “He asked me to kill him, but I refused.  I needed him too much.  He couldn’t ask another person to kill him.  If he tried to explain, they would think he was crazy and lock him up.  He didn’t know any of the Chosen - one isn’t officially in the Foundation until he or she has gone through one refreshening.  Then the one giving him eternal life will register the newcomer with the Foundation.”

              “Finally the pressure proved too much.  He went out one night and came back covered with dried blood.  Not an animal’s but human blood.  I asked but he refused to tell me what happened that night.  By morning, he was already growing young and the cravings were gone.  But it was never the same.”

              “Why?  Did the killing give him a taste for the butchery?”

              “Hardly.  He abhorred the killing, and continued to blame me for it.  He never tried suicide again, although there were some of our friends that would have been happy to help.  I guess the rejuvenation gave him a new lust for life.  But he carried the guilt of the death with him, and he blamed me for it.”  She tried a smile but it was a sad one.  “Our intimacy was gone.  Suddenly we were strangers.  Together we went to the Foundation and got him registered.  Weeks later, when we moved to assume new identities, he told me he was leaving, and he never wanted to see me again.  I pleaded with him, to no avail.  He walked away that day and we never laid eyes on each other again for nearly three centuries.  Then he showed up in your jail.”

              A thought came to Underwood.  “Speaking of which, how did the Chosen know that he was there, not to mention the fact that they knew he was betraying them?  How did they know to call you?”

              The Senator shook her head, still with the sad smile on her lips.  “I thought we agreed, I would not betray any of the secrets of the Chosen.  You’ll have to solve that puzzle yourself, if you can.  I’ve given you enough answers already.  After all, politicians aren’t supposed to give answers.  We only make you think you have an answer.”

              It was quite a story and Underwood was impressed with her despite himself.  “So, after three hundred years, you finally reunite with your lost love, just to kill him.”

              O’Mullens was adamant.  “The Chosen haven’t survived for all these years by announcing ourselves to every mortal that comes along.  We must protect ourselves, and secrecy is our best protection.  After all, you mortal beings fear and hate us because of our superiority.”

              “Actually, we fear the Chosen because you prey on us.”

              That brought a sniff from the senator, “There are members of your CIA that have more blood on their hands than the oldest of us.”

              “Perhaps.  But they don’t pick their victims at random.”

              “We are not proud of this savage part of our essence, but death is a necessity.  And we are not like the serial killers which appear quite often in your culture.  Violence has always been an integral part of your society.  And remember, we are created from your society.”