“They—”
“Come to that,” she interrupted again, growing a bit agitated. “Reading and controlling minds isn’t a usual condition for humans either, at their peak condition or not.”
“Mary?” he said softly.
“Yes?”
“Sta’zitto,” he suggested gently, and then added, “Per favore.”
Mary blinked. “What does that mean?”
“Please, shut up,” he translated, his tone affectionate. “I will explain if you just let me.”
Mary narrowed her eyes, but nodded, and waited for these explanations.
“In Atlantis, the nanos kept their hosts at their peak condition. “But, as I mentioned, Atlantis fell and the survivors, the ones with the nanos, found themselves in a world much less advanced. There were no more transfusions. No more blood. But the nanos had work to do, and kept using the blood that was in their host.” Dante paused briefly to narrow his eyes at the rear camera screen, and then continued, “Grandfather says it was a bad time. When the blood is low in the veins, the nanos seek it out in the organs. It is very painful. Many of the survivors died. Often killing themselves.”
“So you can die?” she asked. “You aren’t really immortal?”
“We can die, but it is hard to kill us. You must cut off the head and make sure it is kept away from the body for a certain amount of time. Or we can burn to death.”
“So these immortals that killed themselves . . . ?”
“Set themselves on fire, usually. Or convinced someone to cut off their head for them.”
“Oh,” Mary breathed, thinking the agony must have been extreme to drive those poor people to such a terrible end.
“Those who survived did so because they did not give up. The nanos eventually forced a sort of evolution on their hosts to get the blood they needed to continue their job.”
“The fangs,” she guessed solemnly.
Dante nodded. “Our people developed fangs to gather the blood we needed. But they also developed increased speed and strength to help them in the hunt, as well as better hearing, better vision and even night vision.”
“Is that why your eyes glow silver?” Mary asked curiously. “The night vision, I mean? Cats’ eyes kind of glow in light at night and they’re supposed to have good night vision.”
“I am not sure,” he admitted. “I know the silver has something to do with the nanos. All immortals have silver or gold flecks in their eyes that glow in certain circumstances.”
“What kind of circumstances?”
“When we need blood,” he answered. “Or when we feel . . . passionate.”
“Ah,” Mary muttered and lifted her mug to her lips. Finding it empty, she set it in the holder, and clasped her hands in her lap, simply waiting.
“We also suddenly had the ability to read minds and control people, which made hunting without being discovered much easier.”
“I imagine so,” she said dryly, and then frowned and asked, “But how did the nanos do that? I mean, they weren’t programmed to do that.”
“No, but their main directive was to keep their host at their peak condition,” Dante pointed out.
“Yes.”
“And they needed blood to do that.”
“But they use more blood than the human body can produce,” Mary remembered his earlier words.
“Si.” He nodded. “So, I presume the nanos just added getting blood as part of their task to complete the original task.”
“You presume?” she asked. “Don’t the scientists who developed this have some idea—?”
“The scientists who developed the nanos did not survive the fall of Atlantis,” he interrupted.
Mary raised her eyebrows. “None of them had the nanos?”
“Apparently not,” he said with a shrug.
“So, only the human guinea pigs survived Atlantis,” she said slowly. “And they have no idea about how the stuff in their bodies works?”
“We have some knowledge now,” Dante assured her. “We have scientists among our ranks who have discovered much and are always working to discover more. However, as I say, technology in the new world our people found themselves in was far behind Atlantis. And none of them were scientists. They had to wait for science to catch up a bit. Most of the discoveries about our nanos have been made in only the last century.”
“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.”