henri dunn 01 - immortality cure (4 page)

BOOK: henri dunn 01 - immortality cure
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Then again, some vampires craved organization and company. Give them a place to crash and protection against whatever threats might be facing them (anything from angry villagers to the odd vampire hunter who decided suicidal vigilantism was better than a real job), and they’d happily pay lip service to a title, even if they wouldn’t exactly bow down or follow the rules.

Hence, the Factory was born: a place where several immortals and their mortal pets lived together in harmony (mostly). Most of the immortal residents were fairly transient: they’d crash there for a few months or a couple of years and then move on.

The textile factory was a historical landmark. God only knew how many people Caz paid off to keep the lights on and have smoke emissions ignored. It looked more or less abandoned from the outside. There were windows on all but the first floor, but they were covered with some kind of tint that made them appear dark even if there were lights on inside, and anyhow, they were all shuttered during the day to keep sunlight out. The front door was a giant steel behemoth. Tiles lining the ground outside it read “Textiles” in faded blue and dirty white. I knocked on the metal door. After a moment, it opened.

A mortal man with dark circles under his eyes and messy dyed-blue hair stood there. He was a little flushed in the face, and I wondered if he’d been drinking vampire blood. Mortal pets often took small draughts from their vampire lovers. The effect of vampire blood on humans was sort of like taking a shot of tequila: it was warm, it softened the sharp edges in your mind, and made your heart race.

He looked me up and down, his eyes narrowing when he realized I wasn’t a vampire. He looked vaguely familiar, like maybe I’d seen him hanging around Caz before, maybe with a more subdued hair color.

“I called ahead,” I said. My car was parked behind me and not in a legal space. The young man looked over my shoulder, then back at me.

“Yeah, so I was told. Who are you?” he asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

“Henri Dunn. Who are you?”

Blank look, except for his growing irritation at my general existence. The guy was attractive, if too thin, his jeans hanging low on his hips and his t-shirt a little too big on him. His face was slightly hollow, like he didn’t eat enough. That happened sometimes to mortals who got too close to vampires. They lost all appetite for anything but blood and wine, and even wine lost its flavor after a while. They stopped wanting to be alive. They wanted to be undead.

“I’m Aidan,” he finally said.

“Hi, Aidan. I’m here with the body,” I prompted. Understanding dawned on his face but it, too, was tinged with confusion. He had expected a vampire, not another mortal. He kept looking me up and down, as if doing it enough times would transform me into something I wasn’t. I was still wearing my server uniform: black slacks, white button-down. After a moment, he came to the conclusion that I was okay, or at least not a threat—maybe he thought I was another mortal “familiar” (a term I hate but one that’s not inaccurate) doing my boss’s biding. Whatever the case, he brought bony fingers to his lips and whistled.

Two people in black security uniforms came rushing forward. They had stakes attached to their belts instead of nightsticks, and I bristled at the sight of the pointy weapons, even though they were snapped into leather holsters.

One of them asked me where the body was. I handed her my keys and told her it was in the trunk, thankful I wouldn’t have to maneuver Ray’s body back out. Getting it in had been hard enough.

Aidan gestured for me to come inside. “Caz wants to see you.” Pointed, especially the use of the nickname. This guy wanted me to know he was close to Caz. It was a warning for me, telling me not to bother trying to get close myself. Fine with me. I might be desperate to be my vampire self again, but if I had any choice at all in who turned me back, Cazimir was at the bottom of the list. His gifts came with strings, and the Blood was the most precious gift of all. Its strings were tendrils that would wind their way into your veins and never let go.

Inside, the Factory resembled a cross between a fancy hotel and a medieval castle. It felt as corny as it sounds. Expensive red-and-gold throw rugs on the hardwood floors, electric candelabras hanging from the ceiling. It looked more like a theme hotel than a gothic palace.

He led me into a parlor that was the picture of gaudy, faux Victorian elegance. Old-fashioned red velvet sofa, fire going in the fireplace. Hard oak coffee table and hutch in the corner full of gaudy jeweled goblets. It could have been the set of a bad horror movie, or a theme park castle.

“You want anything?” Aidan asked, but with such an irritated edge to his tone I was sure he’d spit in anything he brought me.

I shook my head. “I’m good.”

There was a long silence. I’m a pretty patient person when it comes to waiting. Having eternity means that impatience becomes sort of silly, and while I wasn’t immortal anymore, old habits lingered. I expected Aidan to go get Cazimir, or maybe just go find something better to do, but he sat on a piano bench across from me, waiting. There was a tension in the room from his shitty attitude, and I wished he’d leave.

When it became clear he wasn’t going to, and Cazimir was going to take his sweet time, I asked, “Lived here long?” I wasn’t sure whether I meant Seattle or Cazimir’s ridiculous factory-slash-castle.

“Caz and I have been together for over ten years.” Pointed, again. Marking his territory. As if Cazimir had ever been monogamous, and as if I had any interest horning in on whatever Aidan considered their relationship. But ten years was a long time to keep a human familiar around. I reassessed and realized Aidan wasn’t so young. There was more than one small silver hair poking out of the dyed-blue mop, and crow’s feet swept from his eyes. He looked somewhat youthful, but droughts of vampire blood can keep someone looking younger than their years. And if Caz was giving him any tastes of blood, it did mean they were close.

“I see,” I said.

“Who are you with?” Aidan asked. Meaning, I assumed, what vampire was I disposing of bodies for? I felt bad for Aidan. He clearly thought he and Caz had something special, but if Caz hadn’t even bothered to tell him who I was, I doubted they were really on the same page.

“No one,” I said.

He considered me again and then his eyes widened. “Oh shit. You’re the Blood Traitor.” I rolled my eyes. He smirked.

“I’m not a traitor of any kind,” I said sharply. It was almost three in the morning and my tolerance for this crap was fading rapidly. I needed food (stupid mortal body), a bath, and sleep. “This was done to me against my will.”

“Can I see your teeth?” he asked, jerking up from his chair and moving closer. Now that I was a living legend and not just a mere inconvenience to his normal routine, Aidan was captivated.

“If you promise never to call me ‘Blood Traitor’ again.” I opened my mouth in a fake smile. No fangs. Aidan recoiled.

“Holy shit. You can’t even tell you used to be …” He shook his head, clearly shocked and maybe a little afraid. I guess if your life goal is to be a vampire, the idea of an undo button existing is pretty terrifying.

Before we could discuss all the ways in which the transformation was incredible (or awful), Cazimir arrived.

“My, my, my, what has the tide dragged in?” Cazimir asked. He swept into the room like he was the belle of some imaginary ball. He wore leather pants, a pirate shirt with ruffles down the front, and a red velvet riding jacket that was embroidered with gold thread. His long blond hair cascaded to his shoulders. Cazimir could have come straight from the auditions for a vampire movie. He had been turned in his twenties, but centuries of immortality made him look ethereal, especially to my now-mortal eyes. Bone-pale skin, eyes too bright, movements slightly too fast or too slow. It made me shiver. I was used to being a vampire, not seeing vampires as humans saw them.

Aidan went to his side immediately, grabbing Caz’s ringed hand and kissing his wrist. Cazimir smiled patiently at the young man, caressing Aidan’s cheek.

He pressed his lips to Aidan’s forehead and then pulled away. “Aidan here is my most loyal companion,” he said to me. Aidan smirked proudly, the trophy mortal. “If you’re here to ask for Ascension, Aidan is next in line when I decide to open my veins.” He stroked his palm down Aidan’s neck and shoulder, like he was petting a dog.

I did my best not to vomit on his designer rug. Nausea is a hazard of mortality. The whole thing—from the way Aidan was probably treated like a pet, with the carrot of immortality waved in his face constantly, to the ridiculous romantic language Caz used to refer to vampirism and turning—made my stomach churn.

“I’m not here for anything but body disposal,” I said, getting to my feet.


Non
, stay,” Cazimir said, holding a hand out to me. “I wish to talk. It’s been too long, Henrietta.” He turned back to Aidan. “You have done well, my love. Now, I need you to go retrieve Ellen and James from the club.”

Aidan’s smile dropped off his face and hit the floor. “Those idiots can’t take an Uber?”

“They are, apparently, not well.”

Aidan rolled his eyes dramatically. “Why do you even put up them? Just let them OD on their stupid drugs or whatever. You can find better blood bags.”

I winced at the term. It was pretty vicious, especially for a fellow mortal. But at the same time, I could understand his frustration. Aidan wanted to be a vampire. He was the favorite human pet, sure, but his job was to babysit the other mortals and keep them in check. A job he was clearly tired of doing.

“Aidan.” Warning tone.

Aidan sighed deeply, running his fingers through his blue hair. “Fine. Whatever you want. You’re the boss.” He stormed out like a pissed-off boyfriend, slamming the parlor door behind him.

“He’s cute,” I said.

Cazimir shrugged. “He’s loyal and pretty. But he’s getting too old.”

I made a face, and my disgust must have been obvious because Cazimir hastened to add: “Not for me! For him. He turns thirty-five soon. His patience with me is starting to ebb, and soon his loyalty will follow. He demands to be turned.”

Cazimir gestured for me to sit down. He sat on the edge of the armchair, back straight.

“So, turn him,” I said. Obvious solution. “You just said he was next in line.”


Oui
, he is. If I turn anyone, it will be him. But I do not give my blood so easily. You know that. I have yet to decide his fate.”

Vampires are notoriously selective about giving out immortality, for any number of reasons. The more vampires there are, the greater the competition and threat of discovery. Plus, people have a tendency to change their minds about becoming a blood-drinking killing machine and turn on the vampire who turned them, even if they begged for the transformation. Still, it didn’t seem fair to string someone along like that. I never did get the whole human companion thing. It’s a convenient blood source, but it comes with far too many complications. Better to hunt down people who deserve to die and dole out some vigilante justice while getting your blood fix. Two birds and all that jazz.

“Good help is hard to find,” I said. Caz nodded. “Thank you for letting me use your incinerator.”

Cazimir waved a hand, his rings catching the light. “It is a token of apology. But I was surprised to hear you needed to make use of it at all. Surely you realize the risks in killing as a mortal…”

“I didn’t kill anyone,” I said, shocked that he thought so. But of course he did. It was the obvious conclusion. “He was murdered. I’m looking into it.”

Caz raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were working as a waitress, not a detective.”

I bristled. Caz smiled. I should have known he’d have people watching me. Which was probably why he was so surprised I had a body. If I’d managed to get myself re-vampired, surely his people would have told him.

I started to say the victim was a friend of a friend, but Caz cut me off. “Is this man the one who made you like you are? The scientist?”

I swallowed. My heart was beating too fast, and my palms felt slick with sweat. How did he know Ray was a scientist? Ray wasn’t wearing a lab coat, and I’d always been careful not to reveal the identity of the person who’d given me the Cure. A dead Neha was not a Neha who was working on a reversal for her Cure, and while I thought that was a long shot, I wasn’t willing to close that door yet. That meant I’d always made sure no one followed me to her lab—not that I’d gone there since the Cure, before tonight—and was extra careful to keep both of their names to myself. Caz’s preternaturally bright green eyes bored into me like lasers. I’d waited too long to respond, which was enough answer for him.

“You should be honest with me, Henri,” he said softly, the French accent losing some its potency and becoming a normal, less theatrical accent. “You know I will not blame you for taking the life of someone who wronged you so.”

“I didn’t kill him,” I said firmly.

“If you say so,” Cazimir said, smiling faintly. It bothered me enough to protest again, but he held his hand to cut off my ranting. “As I said, none of our kind will blame you for destroying anyone who played a part in what was done to you. I only want to ensure that you’ve destroyed the poison.”

“Poison?”

“The Cure. Immortality is precious.” The accent thickened again, along with his dramatic air. “I do not give it to those I think too weak to handle it. And if they prove to be unworthy, they have no right to return to their old lives. That is the risk they take. A Cure is an abomination.”

“I seem to recall you calling
me
an abomination.”

He waved his hand again. “I was scared. You know well enough what fear does to our kind. We are not accustomed to it. But know this, Henri Dunn. I am your friend. And you do not have as many of those among my kind as you might think.”

His
kind. Deliberately stating he didn’t consider me one of them anymore. I shuddered, ice trickling down my spine. “Well, thanks for letting me know I’m not winning Vampire Prom Queen this year.”

BOOK: henri dunn 01 - immortality cure
3.05Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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