Page 38 of Immortal by Morning (Argeneau #37)

“We are immortals,” he insisted. “Vampires are something that was made up based on a loose description of immortals, but have

nothing to do with us. We are not predators so much as—Think of us as hemophiliacs,” he interrupted himself to say. “We occasionally

need to take in extra blood to survive because of a sudden loss of blood in our bodies. The only difference is that we are

not bleeding out. The nanos are taking and using it.”

“Other than the nanos, I’m pretty sure that’s true of vampires too,” she argued gently and pointed out, “They need blood to survive too.”

“But vampires are dead and soulless,” he repeated insistently. “We are not dead and we do have souls. Also, garlic does not

affect us. Nor do crosses—our skin does not burn if we touch them. We do not sleep in coffins. We do not run with wolves or

turn into a cloud of bats. We cannot crawl up walls or across ceilings. We can walk into churches and not burst into flames. We can go out in the sun without bursting into flames, too.” He paused and

then acknowledged, “Though we do tend to avoid going out in the sun without protection to avoid using up more blood than absolutely

necessary.” He shook his head. “We are not vampires.”

Abril didn’t argue the point, mostly because she couldn’t.

Vampires were dead and soulless, and from what he had described his people were not.

“Okay, so you prefer the name immortals .” She raised her eyebrows.

“But you aren’t really immortal, are you?

You said fire and decapitation will kill your kind. ”

Crispin gave a slight nod and told her, “Fire is the more efficient method to kill us. For some reason the nanos make us highly

flammable. We go up like a roman candle.”

“Yeah, but it’s messy and probably stinky,” she pointed out. “I would think that would make decapitation more efficient.”

“But decapitation only works if the head is kept away from the body long enough.”

“You don’t sound too sure,” she noted.

“Mostly because I am not,” he admitted. “I have heard that cutting off the head and keeping it away from the body can kill us, but I also know that if you reattach the head within a certain timeframe, the nanos will heal it all the way around and reattach whatever needs reattaching and the victim will survive.”

“No way!” she said, her eyes growing wide.

“It is true,” he assured her.

“Well, how the hell do you know it’s true? Did someone lose their head and then...” She paused because she couldn’t even

imagine what might have happened next. It was hard to believe anyone would then place the head up against the neck to see

if it would reattach. She supposed they might have put the body and head together for burial, only to then have the healing

happen as a complete surprise. Or maybe the whole head reattaching itself was an urban myth for immortals.

“It is not an urban myth,” Lucian barked from the kitchen and Crispin’s mouth tightened at his interference and then smiled

at her sympathetically.

“I used to think it might be just a story made up from the past, but recently it was proven true when a scientist started

doing things like that to our people in an effort to see what they could survive,” Crispin said, his voice tight. “He was

cutting off the head and trying to see how far away you could have it from the body before the nanos would not be able to

fix it, or for how long it could be held away from the body before the nanos shut down and could no longer reattach and repair

it. He was also performing other rather horrible experiments on immortals; cutting off limbs, cutting them in half, etcetera.”

“He sounds like a fun guy,” Abril said dryly. “Hopefully, he was stopped?”

“Yes.” It was one word, heavy and grim.

“So, if I cut off your head and bury it in a box away from your body, you would eventually die. But not right away,” she said slowly.

“Yes,” he admitted, eyeing her a little leerily.

“Alternately, I could douse you in gasoline and set you on fire and that would kill you.”

He nodded slowly, his gaze now narrowed on her. She seemed awfully interested in how to kill him.

“So, the only ways for your kind to die are both horrible,” she said, “I mean, burning alive has to be excruciatingly painful

physically. But having your head cut off... If you don’t die right away, you must be aware that your head has been removed

from your body and—Good Lord! How long does it take for the brain to die after decapitation? How long would you be just alive,

but not attached to your body and aware of everything including that you were indeed dying?”

“I have no idea,” Crispin admitted. “I am sure the scientist found out, and that someone else knows from his notes, but I

am not that someone.”

“Hmm,” Abril muttered with dissatisfaction, then gave her head a small shake, and said, “Okay, so your ancestors were Atlanteans

who developed an incredible cure using bioengineered nanos that basically make you stronger, faster, able to see in the dark,

and almost indestructible.”

Crispin gave a slow nod, but his expression was dissatisfied, and he reluctantly said, “They also gave us the ability to read the minds of mortals and any immortals younger than us, as well as to control the minds of mortals and any immortal younger than us. But it is believed that was purely to make it easier for us to feed without everybody knowing about us,” he rushed out.

“You can read my mind and control me?” she asked her voice rising with each word.

“No,” he quickly assured her.

“You just said—”

“I should have explained,” Crispin interrupted. “Lucian, Bricker, Decker, Cassius, Roberts, and Anders can all read your mind,

know what you are thinking, and can control you if they wish,” he admitted and then added swiftly, “But I would never allow

them do that. At least not if I realized they were doing it.”

“But you supposedly can’t?” she asked with obvious disbelief.

“That is the truth,” he said firmly. “I cannot read or control you.”

She considered him briefly, wanting to believe him, and then asked, “Just me? Or do you simply not have those two skills for

some reason?”

“Just you,” he admitted.

“Why?”

Crispin hesitated and then said slowly, “There are three different reasons for why an immortal cannot read a mortal. First,

there have been cases where mortals with brain tumors were unreadable to immortals. That is not always the case though. I

gather if the tumor is lodged in a certain area, it can block an immortal from reading them, but in other areas of the brain

it will have no effect on that skill at all.”

Abril supposed that made sense.

“Another reason is insanity. Immortals sometimes cannot read the mind of an insane person. I do not know if it is because their thoughts are too disorga nized and chaotic, or their brain is diseased, but they can be impossible to read.”

“Well, as far as I know I don’t have a brain tumor, nor am I insane. I don’t think,” she added with uncertainty, and then

smiled crookedly and pointed out, “I mean, insane people don’t usually think they’re insane, do they?”

“You are not insane, and you do not have a brain tumor,” he assured her. “The others can read you, so the first two reasons

are not why I am unable to read you.”

“Which brings us to reason number three,” she said, and when he didn’t respond right away, she tilted her head and said, “Three

must be really bad if you don’t want to tell me what it is. Am I dying of something horrible like mad cow disease, or—”

“No,” he interrupted with dismay. “The last reason is not bad at all. At least, I hope you will not see it as bad. I hope

you will be as happy as I am to hear it.”

Abril’s eyebrows rose slightly, and she pointed out, “The only way we’ll know is if you tell me.”

Crispin nodded, took a deep breath and then said, “The third reason for an immortal to be unable to read a mortal is if they

are a possible life mate.”

“Life mate?” she echoed with relief. Honestly, that didn’t sound bad at all compared to mad cow, late-stage syphilis, or any

of the other diseases that could damage the brain. “What is a life mate?”