Page 39 of Immortal by Morning (Argeneau #37)

Abril’s question echoed in Crispin’s head. “What is a life mate?”

This was where the conversation was going to get tricky. The answer to this question and how she would take the news was the

important bit. It made Crispin almost wish he could call out to his uncle and have Lucian explain about life mates. Problem

was, his uncle was an ass, and would employ neither tact nor concern in explaining and that probably wouldn’t help his odds

in convincing Abril to be his life mate.

“Crispin?” Abril said finally when he had been silent too long. “What is a life mate?”

“A life mate is...” Crispin began and searched his mind desperately for the perfect way to explain this to her.

Finally, he said, “Because immortals can read mortals and any immortals who are younger than them, as well as be read by any immortals older than themselves, it is difficult for us to spend a lot of time in social environments.”

“Social as in bars, dance clubs, etcetera? Or social like people at all?” she asked for clarification.

“Pretty much people at all,” he admitted.

“Huh. That can’t be good for their mental health,” she commented.

“No. Not very,” he acknowledged. “Centuries alone can make an immortal...”

“Go cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs?” she suggested when he hesitated again. When he then blinked at her in confusion, she tried, “Cray,

cray?”

His eyebrows drew together in bewilderment.

Abril rolled her eyes and then reeled off a list of words. “Bonkers? Crackers? Barmy? Gaga? Bananas? Batty? Unhinged? Crazed?

Daft? Stark raving—”

“Yes,” he interrupted finally, amusement pulling at his lips as he got the drift of what she was asking. But he did pause

to wonder when insanity had become synonymous with the names of various foodstuffs like bananas and crackers? Never mind the

rest of the words she’d used. What even was cray, cray ?

“So being alone a lot makes rogues insane, and...?” she prompted when he didn’t immediately continue.

“And when immortals go mad, they usually go rogue,” he said simply, and when she stared at him, he said, “The truth is they

are probably suicidal, wishing to end their very long existence, but have not the courage to end their own life and so act

out to ensure someone else does it for them.”

“So, rogues are basically committing suicide by En forcer,” she said. “I get it. But what does any of that have to do with what a life mate is?”

Before he could answer, she asked, “Is a life mate like a girlfriend, or wife, or something?”

Crispin was almost relieved by the question. It made it easier for him to explain. At least, he’d been a little at a loss

as to how to explain the significance of a life mate until that moment. Now he said, “It is similar to a girlfriend or wife,

but much, much more for several reasons. One reason is because, as I told you, a life mate is someone the immortal cannot

read. This allows the immortal to be in their presence without the fear of them knowing his or her thoughts. It makes them

a perfect partner, partially because they have someone they can spend time with comfortably and not have to constantly be

alone.”

“But what makes them unreadable?” she asked, and then added, “And I understand that not being able to read them would make

them someone you would be more comfortable being around. I mean, we all have stray thoughts that may be unkind, but is that

the only reason that they are good life mates?”

“No,” he said firmly. “Life mates are not life mates just because they cannot read each other. That is a large part of it,

but there is much more to it than that.”

“Like what?” she asked at once.

“Well, life mates always have much in common. Their tastes are very similar. They get along very well. They have a great deal

of passion for each other.” He paused, obviously struggling, and finally just said, “They are just perfect for each other.”

“But why can’t they read each other?” She asked what she’d started out asking and he’d neglected to answer.

Crispin frowned, and then said slowly, “We think the nanos recognize some kind of energy signal in the person that matches their host and makes sure they cannot read each other.”

“And you think that’s the case with me?” Abril asked with interest. “That the nanos recognized a similar energy between the

two of us?”

Crispin shrugged slightly. “That is the conclusion everyone is coming to. Mostly because of what my aunt Marguerite and the

young woman who is married to the winged man said about how they recognize life mates. They say that life mates have a similar

aura or energy to each other, and they recognize that and realize they would be good together.”

“I’m sorry,” Abril said, shaking her head. “Back that up. The young woman who is married to the winged man?”

“I think her name is Stephanie,” Crispin said, trying to recall for sure, but he’d never met the girl so was just going by

tales he’d been told. He thought though that Stephanie was her name. Leaving that worry for now, he added, “Marguerite and

this girl are both conciliari.” When Abril opened her mouth, he quickly answered what he thought her question was going to

be and said, “A conciliare is kind of like a matchmaker for immortals. They are good at recognizing life mates and pairing

them up.”

“Crispin,” Abril said solemnly, “That is all really interesting and I’m sure I’ll have questions about concilly whatevers

later, but right now I’m more interested in the winged man .”

“Oh.” Crispin stared at her blankly for a minute, trying to think what to say.

He really didn’t feel like stopping to explain about that business when he was trying to tell her about life mates, and that she was one for him, and how much she meant to him.

But he supposed there was nothing else for it, so quickly said, “All right, well you remember that scientist I mentioned who was performing those experiments on immortals?”

“Yes.”

“Well, he was also performing other experiments, including genetic splicing of human and animal DNA. One of the results is

a birdman.”

“What?” Abril gasped. “Oh, my God! What—”

“You are getting off topic, children!” Lucian bellowed from the kitchen. “Crispin, finish telling her what life mates are

and that she is one for you and get it over with. I am hungry and the lasagna is getting cold.”

Crispin scowled toward the door, silently telling his uncle to go to hell. He knew the man could hear his thoughts and would

no doubt get the message, but wasn’t surprised when he got no response.

“I’m normally pretty easygoing and even-tempered,” Abril said, drawing his attention back to her. “But your uncle really gets

under my skin.”

“Do not feel bad, he has that effect on everyone,” Crispin growled.

For some reason that made her grin. He smiled in return and then said, “Okay, so basically, the nanos recognize life mates and the immortal—or immortals because life mates are not always one mortal and one immortal, sometimes it is two immortals,” he explained.

“Anyway, we think the nanos are then responsible for all of the symptoms and attributes of life mates. We are not certain, of course, but that is the present supposition. All we know for sure is that it works, and that if we find someone we cannot read, they are most likely our life mate.”

“What are these symptoms and attributes?” Abril asked. “Besides not being able to read them, I mean.”

“We become interested in food and sex again,” he stated.

“Again?” she asked, eyebrows flying up.

“Well, as we age immortals tend to grow tired of food and sex... and pretty much everything else, really.”

“Which is what leads to the suicide by Enforcer thing,” she said, sounding almost resentful at the thought of someone putting

the Enforcers through that. Or perhaps she was more disgusted that completely innocent mortals were hurt or killed to get

the Enforcers to end the rogue’s life.

Crispin shrugged. “Well, I imagine it would take a lot of fortitude to set yourself on fire, and I’m not even sure it is possible

to decapitate yourself. Suicide by Enforcer is probably the easiest route,” he pointed out. It was something he had thought

about a great deal. He was very old himself and had considered ending his life more than once, so had some sympathy for the

rogues. Who was to say he might not have gone rogue himself eventually if he had not encountered Abril? Or wouldn’t still

if he was unable to claim her?

“Anyway,” he said abruptly, “we are getting off topic again. The point is as we age, we grow tired of food and sex and other things we enjoyed earlier in our lives. However, the arrival of a life mate in our life can reawaken those desires in us. We suddenly find ourselves enjoying food again, among other pleasures.”

“Were you tired of food and sex?” she asked, finding that hard to believe. The man had been a sexual dynamo during each of

their encounters.

“I have not had sex since 766 BC and have not eaten since 751 BC,” he said simply, and then added, “Until meeting you.”

Abril could feel the blood leaching from her face as she took in his words. “I’m sorry? When was the last time you ate or

had sex?”

“766 BC for sex, and 751 BC for food,” Crispin repeated.

“Are you telling me that you were born—BC means before Christ, right?”

“Yes,” he said, sounding almost apologetic.

“So, you were born in—”

When she paused to do the math, he saved her the trouble. “I was born in 900 BC.”

Abril just stared at him, her mind having difficulty absorbing what he was telling her. If what he said was true, Crispin

was well over 2900 years old. That was old. Crazy old. That just seemed like madness to her. It couldn’t be true.

“You appear upset,” he said unhappily.