Read Online henri dunn 01 - immortality cure by tori centanni - Free Book Online
Authors: tori centanni
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quickly.
Thomas’s eyes were wide and bloodshot, too. His gaze found Lark, who met it steadily. “Can’t you do something?” she asked.
I started to say no, but then I realized she was talking to the mortal in the necktie. He shook his head. “Neither the antihistamines nor the steroids have had any effect,” he said, voice grim. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do without knowing the cause.”
I’d seen vampires go into the sunlight or pyres of flame: their skin might turn an angry red, but it burnt to ash pretty fast. Vampires who suffered minor sun exposure—up to ninety seconds—might get red rashes or even boils similar to these, but I’d never seen anything quite like this. The boils were oozing up continuously and popping all over his body, like he was being burned up from the inside while suffering some kind of plague. His shirt had been cut away, discarded on the floor. Blood was soaking through the denim of his jeans. One of the boils on his chest grew to the size of a golf ball and then popped, spraying blood and pus on his already-marred flesh. The noxious stench once against assaulted my nostrils and clawed down my throat. I coughed, trying not to gag.
“What happened to him?” I asked.
“Someone gave him your serum,” Lark said. My blood went cold.
“We don’t know that,” Cazimir said to her before turning to me. “That’s why you’re here. Is this”—he gestured to Thomas, who opened his mouth and expelled more pink froth—“part of the process?” He sounded hopeful but looked dubious. It should have been obvious to anyone that there was no coming back from whatever this was. But Lark watched me with eyes that begged me to say yes, this was simply the hell one had to endure to turn mortal again. I really, really wished that was the case for Thomas’s sake.
“You mean, to become human again? With the Cure?” Cazimir nodded. “No. Not at all. It was painful, and I threw up a lot.” I’d expelled a lot of things from my body, but I wasn’t going to go into detail. Dying is disgusting. Apparently, so is being brought back to life. But it wasn’t this vile. “But there were no boils.”
The pustules seemed to be gaining speed, and pink foam dribbled down Thomas’s chin in a steady stream.
“Then what the hell is this?” Lark demanded, watching her fledgling’s body imploding on itself in a writhing mess of poison-filled pustules.
“I don’t know,” I said again. “What happened?”
“We were at a concert at the Showbox when he felt something like a mosquito bite,” Lark said. “We were laughing about it—the irony of a mosquito trying to bite a vampire. And then he realized someone had jammed a needle in his shoulder. We thought it was one of those assholes who drug people, or maybe some kind of accident. But then he started breaking out in hives.” She shuddered at the memory, though no doubt the picture in front of us was a hundred times worse. “I thought it might have been one of those idiotic vampire hunters. You know how they are. Always trying to find ways to poison immortals. So I brought him here. But then it got … worse.”
Understatement of the year. The boils started to slow their inflation and popping. That probably wasn’t good.
“Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been the Cure,” I said. I might have been bedridden and fevered for hours, strapped to a gurney in Neha’s lab, but I hadn’t gotten so much as pimple from the process.
Cazimir nodded to the mortal doctor, who pulled out a plastic bag with a syringe inside it and passed it to me. Cazimir actually ducked out of the way, as if even mild contact with the baggie might turn him into the mess of pus and blood that had been Thomas. I glanced through the plastic. A tiny bit of red liquid remained in the syringe, and the plastic was stained red. It looked like blood. “It might be blood tainted with something,” I said, knowing how idiotic it sounded.
Vampires can
Thomas’s eyes were wide and bloodshot, too. His gaze found Lark, who met it steadily. “Can’t you do something?” she asked.
I started to say no, but then I realized she was talking to the mortal in the necktie. He shook his head. “Neither the antihistamines nor the steroids have had any effect,” he said, voice grim. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do without knowing the cause.”
I’d seen vampires go into the sunlight or pyres of flame: their skin might turn an angry red, but it burnt to ash pretty fast. Vampires who suffered minor sun exposure—up to ninety seconds—might get red rashes or even boils similar to these, but I’d never seen anything quite like this. The boils were oozing up continuously and popping all over his body, like he was being burned up from the inside while suffering some kind of plague. His shirt had been cut away, discarded on the floor. Blood was soaking through the denim of his jeans. One of the boils on his chest grew to the size of a golf ball and then popped, spraying blood and pus on his already-marred flesh. The noxious stench once against assaulted my nostrils and clawed down my throat. I coughed, trying not to gag.
“What happened to him?” I asked.
“Someone gave him your serum,” Lark said. My blood went cold.
“We don’t know that,” Cazimir said to her before turning to me. “That’s why you’re here. Is this”—he gestured to Thomas, who opened his mouth and expelled more pink froth—“part of the process?” He sounded hopeful but looked dubious. It should have been obvious to anyone that there was no coming back from whatever this was. But Lark watched me with eyes that begged me to say yes, this was simply the hell one had to endure to turn mortal again. I really, really wished that was the case for Thomas’s sake.
“You mean, to become human again? With the Cure?” Cazimir nodded. “No. Not at all. It was painful, and I threw up a lot.” I’d expelled a lot of things from my body, but I wasn’t going to go into detail. Dying is disgusting. Apparently, so is being brought back to life. But it wasn’t this vile. “But there were no boils.”
The pustules seemed to be gaining speed, and pink foam dribbled down Thomas’s chin in a steady stream.
“Then what the hell is this?” Lark demanded, watching her fledgling’s body imploding on itself in a writhing mess of poison-filled pustules.
“I don’t know,” I said again. “What happened?”
“We were at a concert at the Showbox when he felt something like a mosquito bite,” Lark said. “We were laughing about it—the irony of a mosquito trying to bite a vampire. And then he realized someone had jammed a needle in his shoulder. We thought it was one of those assholes who drug people, or maybe some kind of accident. But then he started breaking out in hives.” She shuddered at the memory, though no doubt the picture in front of us was a hundred times worse. “I thought it might have been one of those idiotic vampire hunters. You know how they are. Always trying to find ways to poison immortals. So I brought him here. But then it got … worse.”
Understatement of the year. The boils started to slow their inflation and popping. That probably wasn’t good.
“Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been the Cure,” I said. I might have been bedridden and fevered for hours, strapped to a gurney in Neha’s lab, but I hadn’t gotten so much as pimple from the process.
Cazimir nodded to the mortal doctor, who pulled out a plastic bag with a syringe inside it and passed it to me. Cazimir actually ducked out of the way, as if even mild contact with the baggie might turn him into the mess of pus and blood that had been Thomas. I glanced through the plastic. A tiny bit of red liquid remained in the syringe, and the plastic was stained red. It looked like blood. “It might be blood tainted with something,” I said, knowing how idiotic it sounded.
Vampires can
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