Runaway Vampire (Argeneau, #23)

“So your people wandered around for centuries with no clue about what they had in their own bodies,” Mary muttered. “Weird.”

“How much do you think most people with a pacemaker know about the mechanism inside their chest?” Dante asked with amusement. “Or the people who have been given artificial hearts until a transplant is found, how much to you think they know of the mechanics of it?”

“Probably not much,” she admitted wryly.

“Hmm.” He nodded.

They fell silent for a moment and Mary was comfortable enough with him to allow it until she noted the worry on his face. She suspected it was because of the black van that had started tailing them some miles back. It was probably the kidnappers, and she had no doubt they would probably try something. The problem was they didn’t know where or when or what it might be.

“Tell me about your childhood,” Mary said abruptly to distract them both. “What was it like growing up a vampire in 1905?”

Dante winced, and his voice was pained when he said, “We prefer the term immortal.”

“But you can die, so you aren’t immortal,” she pointed out. “You do, however, have fangs and drink blood like a vampire.”

“Si, but we were around before the English invented the vampire. Before even the Dacians and their strigoi. We are Atlanteans, and immortals,” he ended with finality.

Since he was so touchy on the subject, Mary decided to let it lie for now, and said, “So? 1905? Italy? I imagine it was beautiful? No pollution, no cars, no—”

“No,” he said dryly.

“No?” she asked with surprise.

“Mary, I was a baby in 1905. I don’t remember much,” he pointed out gently. “But I do know pollution was no better than it is now. In fact, it may have been worse.”

“Really?” she asked with surprise. “I always thought it was a more modern problem.”

Dante shook his head. “From what my grandmother says, pollution has been a problem for quite some time. Especially in more populated areas. She said it was a problem even in Roman times.”

“Well,” Mary murmured, “That’s depressing.”

Dante smiled faintly.

“So, tell me about growing up then, instead,” Mary suggested.

He glanced from the rear camera view to the road and shrugged. “What do you want to know?”

Mary considered the question. She almost asked what it was like being a twin, but didn’t want to make him think of his missing brother, so instead asked, “Did you like school growing up?”

“Tomasso and I were homeschooled,” Dante said sadly.

So much for not making him think of his brother, Mary thought wryly.

“Most born immortals are,” he added. “It is safer.”

“Safer how?” she asked curiously.

“Well, children are not known for their self-control or consideration of consequences,” he pointed out.

“And they might fang out and attack another student in a school?” she suggested, trying to follow his reasoning.

“They might,” Dante acknowledged. “Or they might get injured on the playground, which could be equally dangerous. A serious injury could land them at a hospital before adult immortals could get there to prevent it, which might lead to blood tests or something else that might reveal the nanos in their blood,” he pointed out, and then added, “But even small injuries could cause problems because they would heal so quickly, which would draw attention.”

“Yeah, I guess it would,” Mary agreed thoughtfully.

“And then there is the risk of a young immortal sharing the knowledge of what they are with a mortal friend, thinking they may never betray them,” Dante went on. “Unfortunately, friendships do not always last a lifetime, and even if they do, friends have falling-outs and the mortal might reveal that secret in a moment of spite.”

“So, basically immortal children are . . . what?” she asked. “They keep you only among other immortal children?”

Dante shook his head. “Usually immortal children lead very solitary lives. At least, in regard to other children. They have their families of course, but in the past, immortals were very spread out and they rarely had friends their own age. Unless they were lucky and had a twin like I did,” he added quietly.

“Like you do,” Mary said firmly, afraid he was giving up on his brother. To get his mind off Tomasso, she asked, “Why were immortals spread out?”

“Having too many hunters in the same area was risky.”

“How?” she asked at once.

Dante hesitated, and then said, “Life for us was different before blood banks were started. We had to hunt.”

“Humans you mean,” Mary tried not to sound too angry as she said it, but knew some of her disgust at the thought of her fellow humans being hunted like animals showed in her voice.

“We need blood to survive,” he reminded her gently. “But we did not hunt willy-nilly. It was not necessary to take so much blood we killed the human, and immortals have been careful from the beginning not to do so.”