Chapter 3 – The Contract

Haw Tech was huge. Aurora had only caught a glimpse of the exterior when the car had driven past the massive building. The driver had let them out in some sort of parking basement, and now she was waiting for the elevator to arrive. Zachary was by her side, fumbling with his own luggage as he sniffed.

It hadn’t been easy for him to close up his shop, and a part of Aurora pitied him. The man just left his lifework behind—that could leave a mark on anyone. In Zachary’s case, his reddened eyes and puffy cheeks were a signifier of what just went down. She shuddered at the memory.

A low clang sounded as the elevator arrived. She stepped inside, waiting for the driver to press the buttons.

Music sounded from above them: gentle tones she didn’t recognize, and she found herself swaying from side to side.

“That’s a horrible sound,” Zachary muttered.

His comment surprised Aurora. “Really? I think it’s nice.”

“There’s no rhythm, and it’s making me nervous.” Zachary shifted his luggage between his hands. “I hope it won’t be like this everywhere.”

If Aurora hadn’t known better, she would’ve accused him of deliberately being a sourpuss. But the elevator stopped, and the doors opened, revealing a long white hallway with large windows on each side.

“Follow me, please,” the driver said.

Aurora liked that guy; he wasn’t particularly talkative, but he’d acted polite and had even tipped his hat to her. It wouldn’t have been such a big deal if it weren’t for the fact she was an Immortalia—they were never rewarded respect.

Her eyes moved from side to side, looking through the windows that covered the side of the long hall. The only sound she could hear was the repetitive clatter of shoes hitting the marble floor. The distinctive smell of her kin lingered in the air. This surprised her.

Inside the rooms, she saw Immortalias laughing and talking to humans as though they were equals. It was a strange sight, and Aurora wasn’t sure what to make of it. In other rooms, humans were typing furiously away on computers.

Near the end of the hall, their driver stopped and gestured to the second-to-last door. “Please go inside then take a seat in there, Miss,” he said, looking at Aurora.

She nodded once and thanked him for everything. Then she entered the room.

As expected, she was greeted with a waiting area, but she was the only one there. She took a seat in the comfortable chairs and waited. Zachary had left her alone for the weekend. She liked to pretend it was a small apology for him selling her to another owner, but she had a hunch that it was more because he was depressed over leaving his shop. Time away from the shop meant less art, and less art meant less livelihood to Zachary.

Aurora crossed her long legs. The only thing Zachary had demanded from her was her outfit. She needed to show off her every asset, and she needed to do this without looking like a whore. Immortalias weren’t always beautiful. Zachary never ceased to remind her that her looks were her defining feature. She wasn’t gullible enough to believe any differently.

As she looked down at her attire, she hoped she’d chosen the right thing. Haw Tech was a respected company, and Daniel Hawkins was an even more respectable man. She’d hate to make the wrong impression on him just because she’d chosen the wrong clothes.

Maybe the shiny wet-look leggings hadn’t been the best idea. Combined with high heels, a green top, and a blazer, she hoped she looked ready for business. Now, she feared that it made her look trashy.

Aurora didn’t ponder about it for long, though. The door opened and she raised her head to find Daniel Hawkins smiling at her. He looked just as he had on television: tall, with bushy hair, and a surprisingly masculine appearance for one of the smartest men in the world.

“You must be Aurora, I presume?” For some reason, Aurora’s voice didn’t work. She gave him a small nod. “Follow me, please.” Daniel Hawkins turned around and into an adjourning room. Aurora rose slowly and followed him.

Once inside, he gestured to a chair and asked her to take a seat. As if playing the role of a perfect gentleman, he waited for her to sit before placing himself opposite of her.

“You might be wondering why I am talking to you alone. Instead of with your … owner.”

He paused, saying nothing else. Aurora supposed he was waiting on her to respond. “Yes, sir,” she whispered. Clearing her throat, she repeated, “Yes, I am curious as to why that would be, sir.”

“Don’t worry about the formalities. For now, we’re on equal ground.” He bent down and retrieved some papers from his briefcase. “And the reason I’m talking to you alone is because we need to determine the grounds for our temporary contract.”

The contract. Aurora shivered at the thought. Of course, they would need to make a new contract to prevent her from running away or showing disobedience. Although she’d been expecting this, it still came as a shock.

“G-grounds?” she stuttered.

“Yes. We need to decide which experiments and projects you wish to take part in here at Haw Tech. While we have permission from your owner to do as we’d like, we find things go far more … smoothly when everyone gets along, do you understand?”

Her head started to ache. Aurora had trouble processing all this new information. She knew better than to take a man on his word, but this person seemed intent on making this as fair as possible for her. Could he be trusted?

Unlikely, but I don’t have much choice.

When she didn’t answer, Hawkins continued, “Perhaps you wish to know more about the work we do here? We wish to research the extent of Immortalias’ powers, as well as the possibility of transferring the healing abilities to humans. These will be the only two departments working with you.”

“Transferring? How?” she asked.

Daniel Hawkins leaned back in his chair and surveyed her carefully. Aurora fought to remain calm under his scrutinizing stare.

“Are you aware of your origin, Aurora?” he asked.

“Just barely. I haven’t been around for long.” The last part was a lie; she was probably one of the oldest Immortalias in existence.

His mouth turned upwards into a smirk, which meant he detected her lie! Aurora scolded herself for not assuming he’d perform a background check on her before taking an interest. What a foolish mistake.

“Are you familiar with the curse and mark of Cain?” he asked. His voice was even; if the lie had upset him, he showed no sign.

The question surprised her. The curse and mark of Cain was a story from the old Judeo-Christian religions, which had long since faded out of the mainstream. Only few religious circles kept the legacy alive.

“I can tell by the look on your face that you know what I’m talking about,” Hawkins said. “This is good. A team of very competent scientists and historians have researched the possibility that Immortalias are, in fact, the very descendants of Cain!”

“That’s insane,” she whispered.

“Is it?” He raised an eyebrow. “The story tells of Cain’s treacherous murder of his brother Abel. As punishment, God cursed him: he was cast away, but a mark was left to prevent anyone from harming him. Doesn’t that sound familiar?”

Aurora lowered her eyes. She’d crossed ways with the tale before, but she’d never considered any correlation between her nature and the ancient biblical tale. After all, even if the story was true, it wouldn’t apply to her since she couldn’t be marked. Anything done to her skin would heal. If not for her inability to be marked, she wouldn’t be in the possession of Zachary.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” she said. “It’s an interesting thought, but … forgive my rudeness, I think it’s impossible.”

Daniel Hawkins leaned forward in his chair. “We’ve traced the blood of Immortalias throughout the generations and found that there appears to be traces of the same DNA in both new Immortalias and the bloodline of Cain. What we need is to figure out what the curse exactly means, and why it gives you the ability to reincarnate and remember your past. “

“Wait, hold up a moment,” Aurora said. “May I ask a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“You said you’ve traced our blood for generations, and that I can understand, but you also mentioned the bloodline of Cain. With all your fancy science, I can understand the former, but the latter? How can you know anything about Cain’s bloodline? From my understanding, no one even knows if that story is real.”

“So the general public believes.” Daniel Hawkins’ eyes lit with mischief. “But the powerful have always been privy to knowledge the general public remains unaware of. In the older times, they called us the Illuminati, and later on we were known as the Secret Brotherhood. Now? Now there’s no name for us, but we’ve always known, Aurora.”

“I understand,” she said. She knew that, had she been an ordinary human, now would be the time for her to contemplate and ponder over the mysteries this man had uncovered. But she was not a human, one who had the luxury of spending hours daydreaming about universal secrets. Once she knew what pertained to her, she saw no need to dwell on the subject.

“So, is that where you want me working? You want me to help you study how to transfer my healing abilities to humans?”

“If you wish. But there’s the second option as well. An option that I personally think will work better for your particular abilities and physique.”

“My physique?”

“You know as well as I, that you’re most likely to be the oldest Immortalia around. This means that your blood hasn’t been mixed with human DNA, and your powers should be greater than any other of your kind.” He folded his hands on the table. “We wish to research the extent of that power.”

“Why?” Aurora frowned. “Why would you wish to tamper with powers beyond your control?”

“There are many reasons, none of which I can disclose to you, I’m afraid. But it is in the best interest of our society. I can assure you that much.” He lowered his voice. “Also,” he added, “researching healing ability is incredibly, incredibly painful. To heal, one must be hurt. I think you’d much prefer the other. Both options require a certain degree of pain, but to research healing capabilities requires a whole deal of cutting, scraping … I suppose you know what I’m talking about.”

Aurora nodded. “Zachary did a lot of cutting on me. So, you wish me to participate in the other project?”

“If it’s possible. I’m not going to force you, though. We agree on the terms of contract on mutual ground. Not by force.” He rummaged through a few of the papers on his desk before selecting one in particular and holding it up to her. “Now, let’s discuss the contract.”

Aurora gulped. This was the first time she was discussing a contract without being on the brink of death. She looked at the paper Hawkins had pushed over to her. The letters seemed jumbled, and she couldn’t focus on them. Her mouth was dry, and her throat clamped together in fear—she hated the contracts.

“I-I’m sorry…”

“Just take your time. We’re aware that this is a deeply emotional event for an Immortalia. Would you like to be left alone while you read over my proposal?” he asked.

“Please stay,” she whispered. Aurora couldn’t meet his eyes; she was showing him weakness, and she hated herself for it.

“What will this do to my contract with Zachary?” she asked. “He arrived here with me. Will I be working with him?”

“The plans we have with Zachary Thomson differ from yours. It’s possible he’ll be performing some of the experiments—under controlled circumstances, of course.”

“What about the contract?”

Hawkins shifted in his chair and looked away. “Your contract with him is still active. Although we’re buying you for this lifetime, you’ll still property of the Thomson estate in your next uprising. If something were to happen to me—or the company—then you’d be his property again.”

“And if anything happens during my stay at Haw Tech? If…” Aurora struggled to find the right words. “If something happened under your care that would normally release me from my contract with Zachary, what would happen then?”

“Then you’d be forever released from the contract. There’s a clause in my contract with Mr. Thomson securing that.”

Hope rose within Aurora. She could still be free. Well, technically she could. In reality, it would probably be near impossible—she didn’t let that get her down, though. Without hesitation, she took a needle from the table, pricked her finger and then signed the contract with her blood. “I’m in.”

A/N: Please vote.