Son of the Serpent

by Vashti Quiroz-Vega

  Gadreel stopped for a moment. “Dracúl—Prometheus, sometimes it is necessary to be in the company of unpleasant people in order to remain out of harm’s way.”

  I studied her for a moment, pondering what she had said.

  She continued following the guards. “Enjoy your bath and get some rest. Everything shall be clearer in the morning.”

  When I arrived at my room, two female servants bathed me. They gave me many garments to wear for my stay and departed. The bed in my chambers was comfortable, and I slept well.

  At daybreak, the same two servants woke me and helped me dress. I met with Gadreel outside my chamber. The servants ushered us toward the dining room where Artemisia was waiting.

  “Ah, good morning, Gadreel and Prometheus. You look well-rested. I assume your accommodations were good.” Artemisia outstretched her arms toward two chairs on either side of her. “Sit. You must be famished.”

  Gadreel and I sat.

  “Eat your fill,” she said. “Everything you see is for you.” She waved her hand over the enormous bounty spread out on the table.

  I sensed something different in Artemisia. She did not seem like the same person I had met the night before. What had changed?

  Gadreel began consuming food without hesitation. There were plenty of fresh fruits and vegetables on the table, which is what she enjoyed eating. There were also stews made from meat and fruit with herbs, rice and bread made of wheat, lamb and chicken grilled as kebabs. Would any of these delicacies satisfy my hunger?

  “Is the food not to your liking?” Artemisia said, looking askance at me. “This is a table set for a king.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I watched Gadreel gulp her last mouthful and stare wide-eyed at me. The banana in her tight grip pinched out of its skin and plopped onto the table.

  “Apologies, great Artemisia,” I said, dipping my head at her. “I am most grateful for your hospitality thus far. The food does look quite appetizing. It has been so long since I have eaten well—I do not know where to begin.” My stomach grumbled. I grabbed a lamb kabob and devoured it in no time. Then I served myself a bowl of stew. The act of eating was delightful, but I would soon pay the consequences, for my body had not done well of late when ingesting food after a long bout without feeding on blood. My stomach tightened but I carried on. Artemisia’s eyes never left me as I ate.

  “Are you feeling well, Prometheus?” she said. “Your skin has taken on an ashen tone with a tinge of green—a most ghoulish color.”

  “I am feeling fine,” I said. “Thank you for your concern.”

  She did not seem the same person I met the previous night. Even her voice had changed from a rough, forceful sound to a more delicate and light one, like an angel’s ethereal voice. I kept eating long after Gadreel was done. When my insides were cramped with food, I stopped. Soon after, vomit began to bubble from my stomach. I had thought it would take longer for me to suffer the uneasy sensation in my stomach. I took a quick gulp of water, but it only made me feel worse.

  I sensed Artemisia and Gadreel’s gazes on me.

  I exploded out of my seat and hurtled away from the table with all the momentum of a tidal wave. Before I fled the room, my legs faltered and I fell to my knees. The food I had eaten twisted in my stomach like a fist trying to bury itself into my ribcage. I lurched forward onto my hands and knees and spewed forth the contents of my stomach unto the floor.

  Gadreel ran to my side. She gathered and held my hair, keeping it from getting soiled by my vomitus. I watched Artemisia from the corner of my eye as she rose from her chair and ambled to me. She stared at me with a look of indifference until I was done.

  “Clean this mess!” Artemisia said to her maidens, covering her nose with the back of her hand. As the servant girls scrambled to clean up after me, she handed me a piece of cloth. I passed the cloth over my mouth. A warmth from the pit of my stomach bloomed into a sweltering heat wave and burst through the pores in my face.

  Gadreel let go my hair and rubbed my back. “Eating so much spicy food did not agree with you. You shall be well soon.”

  Artemisia nudged her aside and helped me to my feet. “I shall take good care of him.” She grabbed me by the arm and led me away.

  I looked over my shoulder at Gadreel. She was staring at me, nibbling on her fingers.

  “Where are you taking him?” Gadreel asked as she followed in Artemisia’s wake. If she tried to disguise the apprehension in her voice it did not work.

  Artemisia stopped short, whirled around, and shot her a venomous look. “I said I would take care of him,” she snarled. Then her demeanor changed. “You need not worry. Make yourself at home, and I shall see you later.” With a flick of her wrist, she gestured her two manservants to stay with Gadreel and she continued on, dragging me along in her powerful grip.

  Artemisia paused before a massive pair of Persian walnut doors and then escorted me inside her chambers. Most of the room was occupied by what had to be the most enormous bed I had ever seen. It was made of Acacia wood and gilded, covered with elaborate bolsters, and draped with wispy, white curtains. The bed was so high off the ground that I was certain she would need a step stool to climb into it. Every other inch of the room was crammed with furniture, all hand-carved with inlaid metal, mother-of-pearl, and ivory. It was a room fit for a queen.

  Artemisia released my arm and stood before me, examining every inch of my body with her amber wolflike eyes. I lingered there as if frozen, feeling the debilitating effects of hunger.

  “I know what you need.”

  “I do not think so,” I said, lowering my eyes and tittering.

  She ambled to a female servant. When she got within a foot of her, she passed her hands over the young woman’s face and neck, as a blind person might do to figure out what one looks like. Then she walked around the servant, held her arms from behind, and pushed the woman closer to me. “I offer my servant’s life, so that you may no longer suffer the pangs of hunger.”

  I stepped back, glaring at her.

  Artemisia pushed the girl against me. She clutched the young woman’s hair and pulled her head back to expose her neck to me.

  The servant’s fresh, young blood called out to me as it rushed through the dilated vessels in her neck. My heart pounded. I pressed my face against her neck. Her blood floated in the rhythm of fear, which served to sweeten it. The woman trembled and whimpered, and the scent of ambrosia drifted into my nostrils. But then I pushed her away, shaking my head, avoiding the terrified expression on the servant’s face. “I cannot take an innocent life—I will not.” I gnashed my teeth for control.

  Artemisia looked disappointed. “You would rather starve than take the blood of a servant?” She released the young woman, but as she rushed toward the door Artemisia grabbed her hair, pulled her back, took out a dagger she hid within her garments, and slit the servant’s throat from ear to ear. The young servant’s blood sprayed across the room, on the walls, floor, and my face. She collapsed, grasping her throat while torrents of bright red blood gushed from her mortal wound.

  A gasp escaped my lips as I stared openmouthed between Artemisia and the lifeless body of the innocent female.

  Artemisia grinned like a crocodile that just ate its prey. “You suffer for the servant?”

  I groaned and kicked a little tufted settee, propelling it across the room.

  She turned away and called her other servants to remove the body and clean up the mess. When they finished, she closed the door behind them and sashayed toward me, bumping into the settee, as if she had not seen it. “You suffer for my servant, yet you know you are superior.”

  My insides curdled like spoiled milk. “Superior? In what way am I superior to this creature whose life you so easily extinguished?”

  She rolled her eyes skyward, letting out a harsh breath. “Please. You know too well that you are a much more powerful creature. You are a god among men,” she said, ogling me.

  I slumped like a mass of rocks sl
iding down a mountain slope. I looked at her, rubbing my temples in frustration. Although every part of her appealed to me—her storm of tight, dark curls, graceful neck, and long legs—the sight of her made me ill from the ends of my hair to the tips of my toes. I sensed evil inside her.

  “So how have you survived long enough to become a strapping young man without killing the innocent?” She laughed when I did not answer her question, sauntered around me while sliding her hand over my chest, waist, and back.

  Her very touch made my nose wrinkle and my lip curl in an almost subconscious gesture of disgust. “You did not have to kill her. Why did you do it?”

  “Why not?” She leaned in from behind and whispered into my ear. “What are humans to rocks and mountains?”

  “Rocks and mountains feel nothing,” I said. “I am made of flesh and blood like they are, and I do feel.” I felt rage churn in my chest, and my hands tightened into fists.

  “Yes, I gathered that much, but yet you are different, are you not?” When she came around and faced me again, she put both arms around my neck. “Your need for blood is rare but not unique. I have known another like you.”

  Her words stunned me. “You have met Cain?”

  She smirked. “So you know him. I met him as a child a long time ago. He attacked and killed a group of men who were raping me. Afterward, he took me to an old woman who tended to me. As soon as I was well enough he left, and she sold me to the highest bidder. I had wanted him to take me with him.”

  My body deflated and my fists slackened. I pitied her. Like me, she had been abandoned as a child.

  She grabbed my hand and brought it to her mouth, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. “Do not look so wounded,” she said. “If I had not experienced the horrors of my youth, I would not be the woman I am today. And as you can see, I lack only the title of queen.” She glided to her bed and, with the crooking of her index finger, beckoned me.

  I went to her, dragging my feet. She lifted her dress above her waist, exposing her rose-colored female form. “Draw blood from me but drink only enough to increase your strength, for I desire you more than you desire this.”

  I fell to my knees before her, cursing my weakness for blood and woman. Every hair on my scalp stood to attention, every skin cell tingled, every neuron fired. A bulging artery throbbed in her groin close to her female parts, which were open like a flower in bloom. Her scent of musk and roses comingled with the scent of raw iron and earth to form a fragrance difficult to resist. My pulse raced and my chest heaved to the rhythm of my pounding heart.

  My fangs erupted into my mouth, giving me a dull sensation of pain. She cried out as I sank my teeth into the delicate flesh of her groin. She moaned as I drank, and her scent became stronger as she radiated desire. I dampened my fingers with her arousal fluid and caressed her most sensitive parts. She continued to squeal and gyrate on the bed.

  While I drank, her pulse began to slow and her movements stilled. I knew that if I did not stop drinking she would die. My instinct was to kill her—I craved it.

  I stopped drinking, hoping I had made the right decision. I licked the wounds I had created to facilitate healing.

  “Do not stop.” Her voice was a bare whisper in the night. I continued to pass my tongue over her feminine flower until she squealed and shuddered with delight.

  I stood and removed my clothing, letting them fall to the floor. Those feelings took over and turned my mind to mush. Undressing her was a turbulent act, a kind of vandalism, like setting a fire in a forest during dry season, filling me with a strange foreboding—this wicked thing would lead to a devastating end. My body draped over her and she clasped me to her. I penetrated her and watched her eyes roll back with pleasure.

  After the deed was done, she dressed herself and left the room for a moment. I overheard a conversation between her and her manservants outside the bedroom door, but I could not make out what was said. I sat on the bed and began to dress.

  She stepped inside the room and squinted in my direction. “What are you doing?” she asked, still straining as she looked at me, as if a screen stood between us.

  “I am getting dressed,” I said.

  She pointed toward me. “Do not put those on. You are not yet finished, but do not fret; you shall first satisfy your hunger fully.”

  I frowned. After offering me her maiden to feast on and then herself, I was apprehensive about what she would provide me with this time. Thinking about it gave me sharp palpitations. A short while later, two manservants brought in four young goats.

  The manservants placed the animals before me.

  “Feast on these sheep, so that you may have the vigor to pleasure me.”

  “Sheep?” Was she losing her sight?

  “Yes, I meant to say goats,” she said, tittering.

  I was unable to shake this brooding fear inside me. The wailing bleats of the goats did not help. Perhaps I should have killed her.

  I intended to drink only enough blood from each of the goats to regain my strength, since I did not wish to kill them. In the end, I drained every goat dry. My lack of self-control distressed me. Even so, when done my strength returned in full force.

  Artemisia waited for me on the bed, and although she was a striking woman, the act seemed more a task than an enjoyable pastime. I pleasured her again and again. She gave the impression of being insatiable.

  In time, she fell asleep. I slipped out of bed, dressed, and hurried out of her chambers. Half the day had gone by and much had to be washed off my body. I went to my room and bathed without the help of servants. Then I departed in search of Gadreel.

  I explored the palatial home and found her at a magnificent rose garden where she conversed with a fetching young woman. They sat on artful cypress benches, sipping hot beverages from metal goblets.

  Gadreel saw me and waved. “Prometheus, come! There is someone I would like you to meet.”

  As I approached them, the young woman placed her goblet on a small wooden table between her and Gadreel and got to her feet. I stared at her. Even surrounded by gorgeous red roses her beauty did not diminish.

  “This is Princess Aini. She is daughter to the King of Persia.”

  I placed one knee on the ground and bowed my head.

  The princess giggled. “There is no need for such formality. Please rise.”

  I gazed up at her, took her dainty hand in mine and kissed it, and then rose to my feet. We gazed at each other for what seemed too long. Her eyes glinted like emeralds on the outer edges, with the color of sea foam in the center.

  Gadreel spoke up. “We were enjoying one of Artemisia’s celebrated rose gardens. Their beauty and fragrance are beyond compare.”

  “Yet their splendor appears somehow lessened by Princess Aini’s loveliness,” I said, still spellbound by her. Her creamy, rosy skin brightened. Scarlet heat caressed her cheeks, and her sweet expression mesmerized me. She lowered her eyes.

  “Where have you been?” Gadreel said, frowning. “You disappeared for hours.” She waited for my response, and the princess returned to her bench. I took a seat near her.

  “Artemisia needed my assistance,” I said, noticing a slight puckering of the princess’s brow upon hearing my words.

  “Artemisia is a beautiful and powerful woman,” the princess said. “My father keeps her close—she manipulates him in many ways I think. She is also dangerous and unpredictable. I would be careful in dealing with her.” She stormed past me and out of the garden, her long, honey-colored hair shining in the sun.

  When the princess was gone I glared at Gadreel. “Why did you insist on knowing where I was and what I was doing?” I kicked pebbles on the ground.

  “I wanted to know.”

  “You could have asked me at a later time,” I grumbled, heat burning my cheeks. “It did not have to be in front of the princess.”

  “Stay away from the princess. She is not for you. She is an innocent, and besides, she is already promised to another.” Gadreel sp
rang from her seat and flounced away. Then she stopped and looked over her shoulder at me. “Artemisia was not enough for you?” Her point jabbed me like the sharp end of a stick. I watched her leave and sat alone, sulking in the rose garden.

  Chapter 16

  QORBUNET BERAM

  I spent the rest of the day exploring the house and gardens on my own. At night, Artemisia summoned me to her bedroom, and again I was made to pleasure her for hours. I managed to get a few hours of sleep, and when I awoke the next morn I left my room as soon as possible, for I had a strong suspicion she would summon me again.

  I made my way to the rose garden, a delightful and peaceful place. I was overjoyed when I encountered Princess Aini once more. She was enjoying the fragrance of the roses and carried a basket laden with cut flowers.

  Warmth spread across my chest as I watched her lean close to breathe in the aroma, carefully tucking her hair behind one shoulder to keep it from tangling among the thorny branches. “Their perfume is intoxicating, is it not?”

  When she saw me she stiffened and frowned.

  “Apologies. I did not mean to frighten you,” I said, bowing my head.

  “You did not frighten me. I simply do not like your company.”

  Dropping my shoulders and with my head yet bowed, I lifted my eyes to look at her. “Your words sting like a whip’s lash. May I ask what I have done to offend you so?”

  Her cold countenance seemed to melt a little as she poked out her lower lip and looked at the ground.

  “Whatever it is I have done, I am willing to do anything to redeem myself and earn your forgiveness.” I lifted my head and gazed into her sea-green eyes. Her cheeks turned a deep pink as she touched her hair, avoiding my gaze.

  “I will begin by begging for your forgiveness,” I said, falling to my knees, bringing my face to the ground. “Please, Your Majesty, forgive me. Have mercy on this wretched soul. I will do anything you ask. If it pleases you, I will do it.”

  I peeked up at her and she covered her mouth to hide a giggle. “That is enough,” she said. “You may stand.”