Page 72 of Lucy Undying (Dracula #1)

72

The Story of Alicia Del Toro

Alicia Del Toro wanted her life to feel different.

It wasn’t that her life was bad. She didn’t mind being a receptionist. She had health insurance and free dental work, and it was definitely better than the jobs her parents had taken to survive. She was bilingual and clever and personable in addition to being strikingly pretty—all qualities that got her the dentist office job despite her having had to drop out of high school.

Everyone who knew where she came from told her she was “lucky.” They assumed her ambition had been adequately rewarded.

But a double-wide in the Nevada desert, always a little dusty no matter how much she cleaned, didn’t feel “lucky” to her. It felt like a starting point, not the finish line her steadfast boyfriend, Ben, and their friends seemed to view it as. It wasn’t until he started talking kids that she panicked, though. Kids were permanent. Kids were anchors. She loved Ben, she did, but.

But some nights—most nights—when she got home from work and made dinner that they then ate on the couch watching TV, she thought… This can’t be it. This couldn’t be everything the world had for her. She longed for excitement, for connection, for something bigger than herself. Something divine.

One day, a day like any other, a day like all the others, Alicia looked up from the reception desk and saw an angel.

The woman glowed. There was no other way to put it. Her clothes fit just right, her hair fell just right, her smile spread just right. There was something almost unhuman about her perfection.

That’s what I want, Alicia thought. That’s who I want to be.

As though aware of the effect she’d had, the woman paused and really looked at Alicia. Alicia was beautiful, and she knew it. But growing up without money had left its mark. Acne scars shadowed her cheeks. Her teeth weren’t straight. She was still paying off medical debt from her parents’ deaths, so her clothes were thrifted and her frizzy hair managed only with grocery store products. Alicia was real life; this woman was the movies.

The woman slid a card across the desk. “I’m having an I-Vee party,” she said. “You should come. I think you’d really fit in.”

Plenty of older men propositioned her, thinking they were entitled to her time or attention (they weren’t, and she let them know it). Not a lot of women did, so this was new. She took the card, certain it was some sort of weird sex thing. What happens an hour from Vegas, etc. But when she searched for I-Vee that afternoon, the Goldaming Life website looked exactly the same as the woman: Polished. Beautiful. Glowing.

Alicia went to the party. She sampled products and listened attentively, but she’d already devoured everything on the website before she came. The party was a light introduction; she was ready to go all in on the patented Gold Path. A path that led members to bigger and better things, bigger and better selves, than they could ever have or be on their own.

Climbing the sales ladder at Goldaming Life felt equal parts attainable and aspirational. There were members—women like her, women who had nothing to recommend them but their intelligence and compassion and charisma—who were now top earners. They made hundreds of thousands of dollars in commissions, won all sorts of prizes for new membership sales, and changed their own lives by helping other people change theirs.

They’d gotten rich, yes. But more important, they were a community. A family. Goldaming Life was going to help her find the Alicia she was always meant to be, the one the universe had been waiting for.

Ben balked at the buy-in. They had bills to pay, and he wanted to save for a baby. So she did it without him. She had to use the products for two months before she could begin selling them—there were no false testimonials at Goldaming Life, only actual results from actual devotees—and she had no time to waste.

Everything exceeded her hopeful expectations. With just a few applications of the skin-rejuvenating cream, her acne scars were healed. But she didn’t want to be limited to the creams. She sold her mother’s family jewelry and subscribed to the nutrition shakes. Her metabolism sped up, so boosted that nothing seemed to stick to her belly or hips anymore.

She was a walking before-and-after. Everyone noticed. By the time she hit two months, she already had a waiting list of women eager to sign up under her. It wasn’t hard to convince others to join. She loved everything about it, and her sincerity was the best sales tool possible. She sailed past the first goal points on the Gold Path in record time.

And the community! She was meeting people she never would have otherwise, people who saw her value and potential, people who recognized how much she had to offer the world.

No matter how Ben grimaced and complained that she was getting too skinny and too busy, Alicia couldn’t be stopped. All her life she’d been working herself to the bone just to stay in the same place. And now? She was flying. Sprinting down the Gold Path. There was always a new level to attain, a new milestone to hit, a new goal just out of reach—for now.

Not only had she already earned back what she’d put in, she was bringing in enough money that she went part-time at the dental office. Even that seemed unnecessary, done to placate Ben and stay on the health insurance. She’d never felt this good, though.

But it wasn’t all golden. Nothing ever is. She was bringing in five figures a month, breaking sign-up records for the region despite the sparse population, even invited to be the face of the greater Reno area I-Vee Center (which meant at last quitting her dental job, no great loss no matter how Ben fretted), but she still wasn’t allowed into the exclusive back rooms.

All she could do was grit her teeth in a smile as yet another woman with deep pockets strolled right past her and through those sleek golden doors. Alicia didn’t know what was behind them, but it made her blood boil that she had to earn admission when others just bought it. She was stuck in the central room, the one anyone could book for an I-Vee party. Standing on those polished floors with her polished skin and her polished teeth, waiting to welcome people. Still a receptionist.

“I hate her, too,” another woman said, laughing.

Alicia turned and froze in surprised recognition. At the spring Goldaming Life Celebration—Alicia had live streamed it instead of going because Ben thought the airfare and hotel fees were too much even though it was obviously an investment in their future—Grace Ford had been named as a candidate to walk through the Celestial Gate during the next cycle. She was almost at the end of the Gold Path. The top.

It was like seeing a celebrity. Alicia’s tongue went thick and dry. This close, Grace Ford reminded her of the villain in a Bond movie—tall and icy and powerful and beautiful. A little scary, but a lot sexy.

Grace Ford paused, standing next to her and taking in the sleek I-Vee showroom. Even though it wasn’t hers, Alicia took great pride in it. She’d introduced so many women to the amazing products it held, and she was going to introduce so many more.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Grace Ford asked.

Alicia nodded. She wanted a secret. She wanted all the secrets.

“Women like her? Buying her way up is just another accessory. She hasn’t worked for it or earned it. There’s a limit to how far money alone will get you. Goldaming Life doesn’t mind their cash—we can pass it along to members like you. But we also know the Gold Path only has whatever meaning devotees bring to it. She’s never going to make it through the Celestial Gate.”

Grace Ford looked at Alicia in a way that made her feel taller. Stronger. Valuable and valued. “I’ve seen your file, Alicia Del Toro. You’re navigating the path step-by-step. Not through luck or money, but through sheer determination. Sheer loyalty. Same as me. Those of us who choose to be here, who earn our progress rather than buying it? We always go farther. We’re the true Gold Lifers. You and me.”

Alicia had never felt so seen. She threw herself in with renewed intensity. She’d be like Grace Ford. She’d walk every step of the way with her head held high, absolutely devoted, absolutely focused.

Ben tried to talk her out of investing more (of her money, of her time, of herself) into the Gold Path. She was earning more than she ever had as a receptionist—more in a month than she used to in a year—but maybe that was the problem.

He texted her constantly. Complained when she’d stay at the I-Vee Center for the weekend rush. He even brought her parents’ priest in for an intervention, during which he cried and insisted she was being brainwashed.

Which was exactly what they told her he’d say. She was more disappointed than angry. It hurt that he couldn’t see how important she was to them. They took her photo for their brochures, had her leading more exclusive I-Vee parties, and even put her in regular rotation at their massive I-Vee Vegas Information Center.

And it wasn’t like it was costing her and Ben anything anymore. She wasn’t spending any money on products; everything was complimentary now. When they asked her to begin serving at the Vegas location, they’d even given her a company car. No strings attached.

She and Ben came to an uneasy truce. He didn’t complain about Goldaming Life, and she didn’t try to get him to use the products. Neither of them brought up kids, because as long as they didn’t talk about it, they didn’t have to fight. He loved her, and she loved Goldaming Life, and surely he’d come around to seeing how good it was for them both.

Three years into Alicia’s journey, Grace Ford visited her again. Alicia didn’t recognize her at first. It was still Grace Ford, but perfected. The celestial version; that was the only way Alicia could think of it. The Vegas center, glimmering and brilliantly lit, seemed to dim as Grace Ford walked in, as though not even the Vegas lights could compete.

“Grace Ford!” Alicia said, immediately feeling foolish.

“Alicia,” the other woman said with a laugh, “please just call me Ford. You use my whole name like I’m some sort of celebrity.”

“What brings you to Vegas?” Alicia asked so she didn’t have to admit that she absolutely thought of Ford as a celebrity.

“Blanche Goldaming.” Ford smiled at Alicia’s gobsmacked expression. The president and CEO of Goldaming Life herself. Alicia was desperate to meet her, but of course she wasn’t going to ask.

She didn’t need to. “Come on. I’m taking you with me.”

Ford brought Alicia to a penthouse suite with floor-to-ceiling windows and art Alicia couldn’t even begin to imagine the cost of. From up here, Vegas wasn’t dirty and cigarette-stained and tacky. It was magical.

They snuck through a side door into a private donor meeting. Alicia leaned against the sleek mahogany-paneled wall and listened, awestruck, to Blanche Goldaming’s stirring, inspirational, sparkling anecdotes.

Blanche Goldaming was a spiritual giant, fully committed to the Gold Path and helping as many people as possible walk it. But she was also practical. Real in a way that shocked and inspired Alicia. At one point, she even made eye contact with Alicia, and smiled.

It was like falling in love. Not with a person, but with a concept. With a life.

After, Ford walked with her down the filthy Strip. Alicia loved this walk, with its foul smells, aggressive porn-pushers, and drunken tourists. She loved it because she always reached the I-Vee Center at the end. It was like stepping from the outskirts of hell to the front door of heaven.

Ford didn’t go back inside with her. She handed Alicia a card with her cell number written on it. “We can cleanse your blood, but we can’t cleanse your mind or your soul or your life. You’re close. But only you can get yourself all the way there. When you’re ready to cut away everything weighing you down and slowing your progress along the path, I’ll be your personal sponsor through the next gates.”

It was staggeringly generous, and a wake-up call. Ford was right. Only Alicia could do this next part. She’d been holding on to her old life. Telling herself she could keep both—where she had been, and where she was going. But it wasn’t possible.

She changed her number, cut off contact with Ben and what was left of her family, moved out and on and into Goldaming Life Housing.

Her role changed, too. They transferred her from their Vegas center to their flagship Salt Lake City location. Everything she needed was provided; there was no push to bring in more money, because she was above all that.

Distraction was washed away. She devoted herself to the path with religious fervor. They used all of her: her beauty, her intelligence, her charm, her wit. Everything was valuable in helping others find their way onto the Gold Path, and they gave her opportunities beyond anything she could have dreamed. Not just modeling for their brochures and acting in their instructional videos. She even got to help in the lab beneath the Goldaming Life building. Alicia Del Toro, a girl with no high school education, a girl who was lucky to be a receptionist, processing serums and sorting biological samples!

The lab leader had obviously been through the Celestial Gate, too. Alicia struggled not to stare. She had Ford’s otherworldly grace, her same aura of power and perfection.

Alicia didn’t question miracles anymore. She’d seen too many of them with Goldaming Life. MS cured after switching to an all-shakes diet. Dementia reversed. Cancer spontaneously in remission. But more than that. She’d seen impossible change on a cellular level, in herself and others.

It was in the lab that Alicia figured out what the miracle of the Celestial Gate was. It was in the lab leader’s movements, in the depthless quality of her eyes: even though she looked to be in her twenties, Alicia was certain she was decades older. Maybe even centuries.

That was the Celestial promise, if Alicia could earn it: Perfection through immortality. They were defeating death itself. When they whispered that Blanche Goldaming was living divinity, it was literal. And thanks to Goldaming Life, Alicia could become a god, too.

Alicia worked, and she worked, and she worked. She whittled herself down until she existed for a singular purpose: to perfectly walk the Gold Path.

And then one night, Ford was at the door of her company apartment. “It’s time,” she said.

Alicia burst into tears. Her heart was so full, her body so tired. She was ready. She was ready. She didn’t know if she deserved it, but she trusted that what they saw in her was true. And she did believe she’d earned it.

When she entered the grand ballroom of the Salt Lake City Goldaming Life Center, she half expected a literal gate, shimmering and golden, with a rainbow haze beyond which immortality awaited.

Instead, Blanche Goldaming, smaller and older than she’d remembered, was sitting in a chair, supported on either side by people who didn’t look like Ford, but felt like her.

“Come forward and kneel,” Blanche said. She sounded tired. Alicia had a moment of confusion and doubt. Why would Blanche Goldaming look like that, when she held the secret of eternal health?

Alicia did as she was told, kneeling in front of the chair where Blanche sat. A hand rested lightly on top of her head, and Alicia struggled not to tremble. “Close your eyes,” Blanche whispered. “Leave weakness behind, and become gold forever. Swear yourself to the Goldamings.”

“I swear,” Alicia said. Before she could wonder why she was swearing herself to the Goldamings and not to Goldaming Life, two points of ice stabbed into her neck. She tried to jerk away, but arms like chains wrapped around her, trapping her. Her face was tilted down; she couldn’t see. Cold flesh was pressed against her lips. “Drink,” someone commanded. She tasted blood. This was wrong. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. But she was so used to trusting and obeying. She swallowed.

“That’s enough,” a woman’s voice said. “Snap it.” Hands wrapped around her head. She heard and felt the pop as an atomic burst of color, and then everything was dark.

And then nothing was dark. She gasped back to life in an explosion of consciousness.

The higher connection she’d wanted with the universe descended on her like a mantle from heaven. She had senses and feelings and strength she never knew existed. She was also in a box, and had no idea who she was other than a desperate, terrible need.

“Open it up,” a voice demanded. The lid was removed. “Welcome to the other side of the Celestial Gate, Alicia.”

That’s right. She was Alicia. She’d forgotten for a moment. And the woman who stood over her was Ford. Her sponsor. Her friend.

Ford escorted her to a small house in the middle of the desert. Alicia felt like a newborn deer, unsteady and baffled by the world around her.

Ford gave her a cup and commanded her to drink. “I’ve given you your name back, which will help. But you’re here until you can controlyourself,” Ford said, all business. “Once you prove you can handle what you’ve become, we’ll be able to use you. There are rules, and they must be followed with precision. Do you understand?”

Alicia nodded, desperate and eager.

“Good,” Ford said. “First rule: We exist to protect the Gold Path.”

“Yes,” Alicia said automatically and eagerly. She understood that rule like it was woven into every cell in her body. She’d lived for the Gold Path for so long by then, it was instinctive.

“Second rule: Don’t kill anyone. Once you have that down, you’ll be ready to come back.”

Alicia stared in confusion, but instead of clarifying, Ford left. Two employees showed up in her place, taking care of the house, watching Alicia, making sure she drank when she was told to.

Her teeth hurt—why did her teeth hurt?—and the boundaries of her body felt strange and unfamiliar. After the euphoria of waking wore off, she was thirsty all the time. Achingly, desperately thirsty. Worse, the people taking care of her scared her. Not because they were threats, but because they didn’t feel real. They felt like…things.

She had wanted a greater connection with the universe, with herself. And even though she could hear and see and smell like never before, even though at night she could make herself go thin and flexible like she was about to become the air itself, she’d never felt more disconnected.

But she was going to do what she had to. She was going to get back to Goldaming Life. Ford would help her understand, and then Alicia would be an ambassador. Help women just like herself find this same strange new power. Maybe even work directly with Blanche.

When at last Ford was satisfied that Alicia could follow the rules, she was driven back to Salt Lake City. Alicia couldn’t wait to find out what her role as a god on earth would be.

They assigned her to an elevator in an office building.