1528

I have kept a journal since I was nine years old. Mother indulged me, more for the purpose of cultivating a fine hand and a quick mind than any belief that my childhood history would be of fascination to anyone.

That journal has been secured away, hidden safely. This one will be hidden too, but I must write these things down in order to lay them straight in my mind. Impossible things have happened.

Briefly, my childhood -- I am Katerina Viccini, born in the Year of Our Lord, 1505, in Venice. I was found, only hours old, on the steps of a church, wrapped in blankets. My mother, herself childless, adopted me, and named me Katerina, for St. Katerina, patron saint of purity.

Why she named me this and then turned me into a courtesan I have never understood.

I was fifteen when she told me my fate was to become a courtesan. My other choice was a convent; somehow, there must be money for the family to live on. There was no real choice to it.

Two years, she spent training me. How to use my posture, a coy look, a smile. How to advise without seeming to. How to accept that the respectable women of Venice would hate me. Two years. It seemed forever. I came away with an astonishing education, for a woman.

My first lover was a man named Nikolai. Darling Nikki. Greek and astonishingly handsome, he became my fast friend, settling in Venice to watch me blossom, or so he claimed.

I already had an education far beyond that of most women. Nikki added to it: he taught me swordplay, and chess, and history. For five years I studied with him, when my other duties would allow.

I bedded and advised some of the most powerful men in Venice in those years. Their stories, and mine, are written in my other journals. It was a world of intrigue and politics, and I loved it.

It is now 1528. I am twenty-three years old. Three nights ago, someone murdered me in my bed.

I was alone that night; whomever ordered the murder must known I would be. I remember a face with pale eyes, angry eyes, but little else. The flash of moonlight on the blade. It was, at least, painless, as the knife slide into my heart. There was time for horror, and then it slipped away into darkness.

Nikki was to meet me for breakfast, and a lesson in swordplay after. It was he who found me, still and silent in the pillows. It was he who withdrew the knife from my breast, and he whose face I first saw after resurrection.

That is rather more vividly clear than my death. The pain of awakening was shattering, as air burned back into my lungs and feeling coursed through cold limbs again. The headache alone was devastating.

Nikki looked terribly calm. My first thoughts were that I had been injured, badly, but not so badly that I would not live. He shook his head, and explained to me that I had died, indeed, and that my life in Venice was over. I was not like others. I was Immortal, and I could not die unless someone took my head. He, too, was Immortal, and had sensed the potential in me years ago. He stayed in Venice to train me in warfare.

Within an hour or two we slipped away from the house, leaving bloodied sheets behind. The servants were under orders to never disturb me until noon, and even my mother would rarely break that request. It was she that I most regretted leaving, with no explanation, no reassurances, but Nikki convinced me in those two brief hours that it was utterly necessary. The healed wound where the blade had entered my heart was nearly explanation enough. I had no desire to be burned or tortured to death for witchcraft, and I could not see, at the time, a way to have survived the attack.

Now, with a few days retrospect, I do wish I could have paraded before the wives of Venice, watching to see who blanched at my appearance. I understand the jealousy that might drive a woman to hire a murderer, but I would like to know who it was, to satisfy my curiousity. I want revenge less than I thought I would: having been granted this Immortality has somehow made avenging my own death less important.

1530

Two years ago, Nikki brought me here, to a roughshod castle in France. I discovered how spoiled I was, living in beautiful Venice with my warm home and servants to care for me. He left me in the care of a woman named Amanda, who owns this place.

I have never met anyone like her, at least outwardly like her. She is a thief and a swordsman, and she loves life intensely. She has driven me very hard these last two years. I thought Nikki's training had been difficult! She has taught me far more than he did, in less time -- but that is not to fault Nikki in any way. I had another life, then, and other occupations. Now the sword is my life. It is strangely exhilarating.

1534

I'm finally really part of the Game. Amanda, satisfied with my training, sent me out into the world. I miss her terribly -- I've been gone six months. A few hours ago, I took my first head. His name was Ryan.

No one told me that the Quickening would feel like that. Even now it sends faint jolts through me, a mix of pain and pleasure.

1554

I am going to England, I think. Their Queen has locked her sister the princess in a tower, and I think I would like to see what a princess in a tower looks like. It sounds like a fairy tale.

1556

The Tower of London isn't a tower at all. It's a castle. How disappointing.

1603

Queen Elizabeth has died, God rest her soul. I can hardly believe it's been half a century. My years at court were worth more than I can say. What an incredible woman she was -- and I dare call her my friend. Imagine! A Venetian whore, friends with the Queen of England.

This, though, is the difficult part of Immortality. Watching a woman like her age and fade away, when she should be allowed to survive down the centuries, as we can. Losing friends is difficult. There are several of us together right now, mourning our friend and writing histories -- at least in that, we can make certain she is remembered. Who would have thought the royal courts would sport so many Immortals?

1605

Today is my one hundredth birthday. I have lived a full century, and beheaded seven men. At times I wonder what I am. At other times, I wonder what I will become.

1607

Hah. I have convinced Master Shakespeare to allow me to perform in 'The Taming of the Shrew'!

1608

And 'Macbeth'! Lady Macbeth is a delightfully dreadful character.

1670

I believe I have now seen the entire world. I helped to forge my own new blade in Japan, and have walked the Forbidden City of China. The continent of America is beautiful. I went very far west, to a desert land, and lived with a tribe called the Navajo. I think of all the languages I have learned in the last hundred and seventy years, theirs is the most difficult.

I lived with the tribes for almost thirty years. In a way, it was the most enjoyable time yet. The lifestyle is like nothing I'd ever imagined, and yet I loved it. I even took a husband from them, something I never thought I'd do. His name was Swiftfoot, and even with the endurance of Immortality, I could not outrun him. He died twelve years ago. I miss him terribly.

They called me Sky-eyes. Somehow that name means more to me than any I have other used.

I traveled south after Swiftfoot died. There are temples, pyramids there, to rival those in Egypt. I think the wonders of the world never cease.

I saw Amanda a while ago. She hasn't changed much. Still stealing things. She told me about a man she met, named Duncan. Apparently he was handsome enough to distract her for more than a few minutes, which is Amanda's usual attention span.

1681

I am back in Venice now. It has changed greatly, and I do not think I will stay for long.

1700

I have noticed something, or perhaps, focused on it. In the last twenty years or so, when I come into contact with another Immortal, I can frequently guess his age within a few minutes of meeting him. For those younger than I am, I can judge age within a few months of the day he died. Those older, within a few years.

It's something we all can do, to one degree or another. The headaches, the nausea, and the other sensations we feel when an Immortal approaches tells us something about their age and strength, but this seems more focused than that. I remember noticing it with Amanda, although I didn't know what I was feeling. The sensation, though, was that she was much younger than Nikki, although I know she was born in the mid-thirteenth century. I wonder how old Nikki is.

1714

The music they are making today, and the writings they are doing. I have graduated from an art school, and am spending my time going from genius to genius, drawing them and learning what they can teach. I have studied music under Johann Sebastian Bach, had essays critqued by Alexander Pope -- who says I seem well educated, for a woman. If he only knew.

I spent two years studying with Issac Newton. My grasp of mathematics is far beyond what I thought it might ever be, but my fondest memory is a day we got into a fight, throwing rotten apples at each other.

1719

Marriage is a terrible mistake for an Immortal woman.

1742

Two hundred years of living has provided me with an astonishing amount of doubt on the part of a God of any sort. However, having just listened to a sermon by Edwards, "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God," I find myself wanting to get out of America before it all is damned to hell.

Dr. Swift has sent me a copy of a scathingly funny poem he wrote about his own death. Perhaps I'll go back to England and congratulate him on it.

1771

Hah! I have succeeded in a coup, of sorts. I convinced Captain Cook to let me join him on his voyage, and I have just completed a circumnavigation of the world! I wonder if I am the first woman to do that. Australia is unbelievably beautiful.

I sensed another Immortal this afternoon, while leaving the ship, someone very old. I saw him down the dock; he is tall, black-haired, and has the features of a Roman emperor. I asked after him, and a dockhand said he was a doctor named Adams. I haven't seen him again, though.

Back to America after this, I think. Revolution is brewing.

1783

I can't believe they did it.

1789

It seems to be my half-century for revolution. France, now, and I was shot in the back a little while ago, so I thought I'd stop and catch up on my journal. After this I'll look for some quiet times, and go back to being an artist.

1840

Oh, the poets and novelists. Byron and Blake, Keats and Wordsworth, Burns and Shelley. Dickens, Austen, Stowe, Browning. Coleridge, Poe, Longfellow. I've spent the last fifty years in an orgy of poetry and genius.

Byron is one of us. And Mary Shelley knew about us when she wrote 'Frankenstein' -- a doctor called Adams told her when she saw Byron return to life. I wonder if he was the same Immortal I glimpsed on the docks all those years ago.

1861

There's war in America. I'm going. They fight for a lot of reasons, but the North's winning might end slavery. There are things worth fighting for.

1863

An ugly war, this. Family set against family in a way I don't remember having seen before. I've felt other Immortals nearby, but not met any.

1870

I've come back to the Navajo lands again. Has it been two centuries? How could it be? How much killing has happened since then?

They no longer trust me, here, with my white skin and pale eyes, even though I still speak their language as well as they do. It hurts in a way I didn't expect. I've been allowed to take refuge in some of their holy land, though. I need time away from the killing. I wonder how many heads I've taken in the last three hundred years. I never thought I could lose count. My other journals record them, meticulously, but only the first head went into this journal, the overview journal.

1875

Some crazy swam across the English Channel. What strange things men do. I've just re-emerged into the world, after nearly five years in holy sanctuary. I think I'm ready for the Game again.

1905

I'm four hundred years old today.

1913

They have made a flying machine! I'm learning how to fly. They call them areoplanes.

1917

Wherever there are wars, there are so many Immortals. The last two years I've taken more heads than I did in the last twenty.

1922

I ran into Amanda again! It'd been centuries. We found each other at a speakeasy in New York. She's still talking about Duncan. He must be spectacular. We've been going wild, talking about old times, catching up, and causing trouble.

1941

War again. Hitler is truly frightening.

1945

I think the world has just changed irrevocably. The Americans dropped an atomic bomb on Nagasaki and Hiroshima a few hours ago. I remember Hiroshima from a long time ago. The idea that it's been destroyed is appalling.

Sometimes I wonder why these mortals are in such a rush to find their deaths. It comes so quickly for them anyway.

1963

Puritan America is having a backlash. There are students and young people drugging themselves senseless and falling into bed with anything that moves. I wonder what they would have made of my early life?

The thing I really don't understand about it is the clothes they're wearing. In four hundred and fifty years I've seen some silly fashions, but wow, talk about ugly.

1974

I've collected yet another degree -- I think I have about twenty of them, now -- in photography, this time. I'm on the plane to Viet Nam.

1980

Boom! Mt. St. Helens in Washington State in America just exploded, a few months ago. They're all very surprised. I think I'm getting jaded about their short viewpoints.

1986

This 'internet' of computers is going to be big.

1989

I just watched the Berlin Wall come down. The pictures I have are brilliant, but they're nothing compared to the emotion that was flooding the place. Maybe there's hope for mortals, after all.

1993

Ireland is a mess. I wonder if the war here will ever end. In the meantime, it's keeping me employed.

I've been online for a decade now. The ease of communication still blows my mind. I think about the months it took to get a letter across the world when I was young -- hell, just fifty years ago! -- and sending a letter to America in seconds just blows my mind. Viva technology!

1997

I finally met Amanda's Duncan. I was housesitting for her and he crawled into bed with me. I don't know who was more surprised. :) Probably him. :)

The next day I met that really old Immortal I saw all those centuries ago on the docks. His name (for now, at least) is Adam Pierson. He's old. I mean, really /old/. He makes Amanda feel like a spring chicken.

I asked him what he does. He said, "I survive."

I think he scares me a little.

I also met this utterly impossible woman named Madeline, who's a friend of Duncan's. She makes my teeth hurt. Someday when Duncan isn't around, maybe we'll have the chance to kill each other.

In the meantime, we're all going to Japan together. I'm still not sure why I agreed to this, except I didn't have anything better to do, and Adam is gorgeous.

1998

I found /Nikki/ in Tokyo! I hadn't seen him in more than four hundred years, not since he left me with Amanda! Oh, it's good to see old friends . . .