Untitled Scene #3
His face remains cold, but the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth and the subtle shift in his energy tell me he is not grateful for the compliment.
"You do not know what you are saying. But I cannot blame you because you do not know me."
"True, I do not know you. But even if you are a monster, that one time you were not."
Ennio does not reply.
"Can I ask you something? It is about that Mark Ferguson. I do not know him at all, but my cousin has convinced himself he is going to build a family with him… I think someone like you might have a better read on the situation than I do, and I am a little worried about him…"
Ennio’s black eyes settle on my face and study me for a moment, and I study him right back.
It is fascinating how he radiates this incredible coldness.
He looks almost too perfect in his tailored suit with his hair combed back into a tight ponytail, his facial features so flawless, yet that frost that saturates him strips away part of his charm, drains his vibrancy, makes him feel like a sketch of a man rather than someone fully alive.
Since he does not answer, I dare to ask differently, maybe phrasing it this way will work.
"Would you marry him?"
"I do not date alphas."
"But if you did, would you marry him?"
"Never."
The way he says it, with the emphasis, sends a chill down my spine. One word, yet it carries so much. I turn my head and glance toward Mark Ferguson dancing with poor Jared, and my heart tightens. That boy has endured far too much.
Jared is smiling with that innocent hope of someone dreaming of a better future without noticing how many stumbles might wait for him.
Is that hope making him blind?
The music fades, and I walk Ennio back to the table, feeling awful.
"Thank you for the dance," I say politely, giving a small curtsy because that is what etiquette requires; the one who issued the invitation should offer thanks.
I lift my gaze, and my eyes meet the strange mismatched eyes of the omega with the silvery hair.
They stare at me with such intense focus that I freeze for a heartbeat. Suddenly he spits out one word, a terrifying one I know too well from my darkest thoughts.
"Revenant!"
Now every eye turns toward him.
"Don’t… don’t come close! Anzo, don’t let him touch you!"
"Are you alright, Moon?" Anzo Ferro asks, leaning in slightly with a puzzled glance.
"He’s an undead. A revenant. An energy vampire!"
Anzo gives him a strange look. "What do you mean by that?" He cannot be taking him seriously. No one takes words like that seriously, right?
"I should probably go," I blurt out in a nearly apologetic tone. I can only imagine how red my face must be. Most people get embarrassed when someone accuses them of lying or cheating or scheming, but here I am feeling ashamed because someone accused me of…? Being what, exactly? An undead?
The others at the table look at Moon with amusement or mild pity. Young Eliano in particular seems delighted by what he just heard. I cannot blame him, it does sound completely fantastical, so I quickly say,
"Playing undead is always my first choice in every video game. Excellent intuition," I add with a friendly smile toward Anzo and Moon.
Eliano leans toward Moon slightly and mutters, "Last time it was a fallen angel and now it’s a revenant? Where do you even get these ideas from?"
Yup, not sticking around for that conversation. After another small curtsy, I slip away as quickly as I can.
But as I walk away, I almost regret it.
Because for the first time I meet someone who knows something about me that is actually true.
True?
The question is whether I want to follow that truth at all, the ugly version I already rejected, the one I dismissed while talking to Lake, almost accusing him in my mind of making things up.
Well, one thing I do know is that this is not something that should ever surface in casual conversations with strangers. Especially thugs from the mafia, duh.
But it is still there, vivid and sharp in my mind, the damn fact that I am different, that I once took another man’s life force.
With a frown, I go back to Kay’s table, even though Moon’s eyes keep following me across the full length of the banquet hall.
When I sit down again, I notice Maurice’s outraged stare on me. He looks at me with barely hidden disgust and makes sure to place himself between me and Kay, a living wall meant to keep my dirt from spilling onto his innocent beloved.
"You know those people?"
"I only met Ennio once, when he helped me in a very difficult situation and saved the life of someone close to me."
Maurice and Kay both fall silent, and for the rest of the wedding celebration we do not speak at all. They see me as a leper, and maybe rightly so. I am one of those people who can no longer claim to stand fully on the side of good.
Nuances, nuances.
◆◆◆
The lonely months spent studying keep passing me by. I am working on my master’s degree, and at the same time… I am teaching students.
This year, for the first time, I am leading classes for the younger cohorts.
Before this, I was only a tutor who sometimes helped check assignments and tests, but I never had to stand in front of an entire room full of students, so for the first few months I feel almost constant stage fright every single day when I have to pass knowledge on to young people who watch me with their attentive eyes.
Before every lecture I prepare obsessively, everything is precisely planned, and I try to deliver each portion of material in a clear and understandable way, making sure every student can follow what I am saying.
Eventually, after a few months, I manage to develop a steady routine and teaching stops being such a huge source of stress.
Soon after the start of the new semester, the date for my meeting with Blue Lowen arrives.
I cannot hide how stressed I am. I don’t know how he will react to me, whether he will throw me out, laugh in my face, or simply deliver bad news.
For the occasion, I take a day off from college.
My appointment is scheduled for eleven. I reach the Malden Pharmaceuticals headquarters, since the company’s main office is located in our city, near the coast, and this is where their largest commercial division focused on genetic research operates.
I arrive by Uber, get out, and cross the enormous parking lot. I enter the building’s lobby and head to reception, from where I am redirected to a separate internal check-in-desk on the seventh floor, the entrance to the entire genetics department.
My stomach twists with nerves when the receptionist tells me that Dr. Lowen will see me shortly.
It is happening. I am stepping onto a path that, however na?ve it might be, I believe could lead me back to Bay.
What is interesting is that to reach this floor I have to pass through a metal detector. I have no idea why that’s even necessary, but I simply accept it.
I am eventually guided down a long corridor that ends at Blue Lowen’s office.
The moment I enter, I am almost trembling.
Blue Lowen sits behind a wide, semi-circular desk that effectively separates me from him.
The office is large and elegantly furnished. The consultation cost me nearly all of my savings. He does not price an hour of his valuable time cheaply. Well, a conversation with a genius can’t be free.
From what I know, he sees only a handful of people each week, since he primarily focuses on research, which explains the six-month wait for an appointment.
With unsteady steps I approach the chair set directly across from his desk, positioned at a deliberate distance.
I ease into it slowly and mumble a soft "good morning."
Blue is almost exactly my height, with a very similar slight build. He wears electronic glasses with tiny LEDs glimmering along the edges of the frames. His straight navy-blue hair falls to his shoulders in razor-sharp lines, but our greatest resemblance lies in our faces.
If I ever doubted whether my dad told the truth about my biological father, it would be hard to hold on to that doubt while looking at Blue.
We are almost like brothers, especially since he absolutely does not look thirty-seven.
He looks twenty-five at most, if not younger. Of course he likely has access to the latest genetic rejuvenation therapies, which should not surprise me, yet the resemblance is so striking that for a moment I can only stare at him.
We have the same eye shape, though mine are amethyst and his sapphire, the same brows, nose, mouth, an almost unsettling similarity. But that is definitely not the topic I want to start with.
"What brings you to me, Mr. Strada?"
For the first time, that surname irritates me. It belongs to the man who was married to my dad. It isn’t even my dad’s own family name. My real surname should be Lowen, and the one in my documents is actually… Nolan. But, following what Bay and I agreed on, I don’t use it in my daily life.
"A genetics consultation," I say after clearing my throat. "I wanted to ask for guidance, to look for information or suggestions. Is there any possible way for two strongly incompatible people to become compatible?"
I notice a faint shadow of interest in his sapphire eyes.
He straightens slightly and leans back.
"Officially, science states that such a possibility does not exist. It would require rewriting the individual’s genetic code and also influencing their personality.
" His voice is calm. Fascinating, how even his voice resembles mine. He speaks in a rather stiff manner, as if fully aware of his role as an expert, carefully choosing his words and presenting everything to sound professional, even though I get the impression this isn’t his usual style.
I stare at him for a moment, then speak, because I came here for this and I will not back down, no matter how crazy it sounds.
"Will you help me do it? You are a scientist known for breakthroughs. I want to alter my genetic code so that it matches the genetic code of a certain person."