Die, My Love

by Penelope Fletcher

  He walks, or rather stalks, up to Iain, still waiting for an explanation to his earlier question. The younger man watches me, taking in my evaluation of the Middle Eastern man, but now he turns to him and says, “No one’s fighting. Adam and Simone were going at it again, but ‘tis fine. Ben is talking to them.” He motions to me. “She’s his woman. Bonnie, eh? She’s been left in our care until he returns.”

  Hey! Though you speak of protection, I feel like that was some kind of insult, Iain, you cheeky bugger. Ben’s consort has a name.

  The Middle Eastern man regards me hard for a moment, like I’m a complicated puzzle, or a figment of his imagination. His nostrils flare and I realize he’s seeking Ben’s scent on me. He straightens, and no longer looks at me like I’m fair game. “I am Afzal,” he barks.

  I blink, hold back the urge to tell him to lower the volume some, and nod my head respectfully. There is no Ben to protect me right now. I must watch myself and my mouth. “I’m Lee. This is a lovely restaurant. Ben has told me your food is wonderful, I’m looking forward to trying some.”

  Afzal cocks his head, and like sunshine from behind the clouds, his mean looking face is transformed into one of exotic beauty and elation. He slams a meaty palm to his half exposed chest. “My food is the best. Come.”

  He grabs my forearm and drags me behind him. Literally, he drags me. My feet slide across the floor.

  I throw a panicked look over my shoulder at Iain, but he is unconcerned, following with a smile. Pulled through a doorframe into a stainless steel kitchen that gleams so brightly it blinds me, Afzal releases me and I rub my arm surreptitiously. Pots and pans bubble away, splashing, and frothing. The steam rises up into the humming extractor fan. It smells divine, spicy with citrus undertones. Oh look! My fish is served up on a fancy oval plate on a bed of couscous. It looks good. Wait. Just wait. What is that red sauce all over it? The chili? Please god let that be chili sauce sans any other red bodily fluid.

  Afzal plonks a stool in front of the dish, thrusts a fork into my hand, then prods my shoulder, which effectively pushes me toward the stool. “Eat,” he commands, and leans his elbows on the sparkling surface to watch me.

  I clamber up onto the stool and seat myself, my fork poised for action. I slant a look at Iain then to Afzal. I breathe out bravely and shake my head at it all. I take a dainty bite and chew slowly. Swallowing, I manage a, “Hmm.”

  Beads of sweat the weight of bullets roll down my temples and my eyes flick between the two men like a metronome. I must look shifty about now, but Afzal’s fangs are quite extraordinary, the largest I have seen yet, and his hawk-like eyes are fixed on me eating his food. It tastes like ash and I’m worried I won’t be able to hide my reaction.

  Lee, this is not clever, alone with two blood drinkers who do not care for you as Ben does.

  Afzal does not seem to be impressed with my reaction so I shovel a larger forkful into my gob. My teeth involuntarily clamp down on the tines, scraping painfully as I drag the fork out again before thrusting it back into the food, and chewing with gusto. “Wow, um, Afzal, this is really good. What species– I mean, spices did you use?”

  He glares at me. “That is my secret and you may not know it.”

  I lean to the left, the opposite direction of the deadly chef, and nod emphatically. “Ah, okay. Sorry,” I blurt lamely, and look at Iain for help.

  He just smiles toothily. Red liquid dribbles from his bottom lip and it’s lapped up by a sweep of his tongue. He leans back, amused gaze on me, a tumbler of fresh blood in his hand.

  The chili has kicked in and my mouth is on fire. My eyes tear up and I motion for water, fanning my face with my hand.

  Ben, where the hell are you?

  Chapter 7

  Smoke Reveals Fire

  “I dinna ken … he’s chosen you,” Iain murmurs after a long silence of me chewing more couscous and Afzal watching me, watch him, watch me chew more couscous between large gulps of icy tap water.

  I wave my fork at him. “Ben is going to make me like you, I hope. I’m thinking it’s more on an honour than I first realized.”

  Afzal hisses. His two fists slam down on the steel surface and leave concave holes. My fork clatters to the surface top and my body lurches off the stool toward the door. Like a frightened rabbit, I bound away, but Iain catches me and locks me to his side. He pats my head. Trembling, I cling to him and try to regulate my breathing. No, their voices do not affect me as they once did, I’m getting used to that. It’s purely the fact that Afzal is gigantic, bristling, and radiating anger now, and I know enough to get the hell away from him.

  “Calm down, lass. Afzal’s a wee bit passionate, ‘tis all. Can ye ease up? I don’t want yer scent over me when Ben returns.” His brows plunge. “Yer heartbeat pounds too hard. Tis tempting. It calls forth the hunting instinct, so be kind to us, hmm? Calm down.”

  Be kind to them? How about they be kind to me!

  Okay, deep breathing. Backing away from him, running a hand through my hair, I turn slowly with an apologetic smile for the mountainous Afzal who is glaring at me.

  “Finish your food,” he commands. “It will get cold.” As he says this, he opens the lower counter cupboard and places his fists inside. With two quick thumps, he bangs the indents out of the steel. The way he does this suggests this is a regular occurrence he’s used to setting right.

  I hop back onto the stool and scoop up my fork in a shaking hand. Each time I try to pick up some couscous my shaking has it falling off the tines before it can reach my mouth. I need a spoon. With a long-suffering sigh, I place the fork down and rub my face. “You all scare me, okay? I know it may seem silly to you, but it’s hard to focus on anything when you both stare at me.”

  Iain chuckles and rubs my shoulder. I wish it was comforting but his hand is too cool and heavy to be normal. “We understand. I’m surprised yer still ‘ere after Daniel’s theatrics. Most would ‘ave run screaming, but there’s mettle in you. There must be, or Ben wouldn’t ‘ave looked twice let alone brought ye here to meet us.”

  Rubbing my lips together, I watch Afzal closely as I say, “Adam says he would not have chosen me for Ben. He also said something about Ben telling me an important secret before he turns me. Do you know what he means?”

  As I suspected, Afzal has strong feelings on this subject. His face twitches and he looks at Iain, his mouth opening. I just know he’s about to tell me what Adam meant.

  I lean forward eagerly, forgetting my earlier fear.

  “Och … aye,” Iain answers swiftly. “That. We willnae speak to ye about that.”

  I deflate. Damn, I had thought I was going to discover whatever Ben appears to be keeping from me. Surely, I deserve to know a secret so fiercely guarded? Is it wrong of me to pump Ben’s people for information? Shouldn’t I be brave enough to ask my darling directly?

  Ah, or are you afraid he won’t tell you Lee? You know what that will mean, don’t you? If you are to keep the promise you made to yourself, you must know everything before you let Ben chain you to him. Anyway, get out of your own head and pay attention. The bloodsuckers are talking!

  “….and yer in no position to meddle. Ben must be the one to tell her if he wishes.”

  “He will not. You know he will not, because he fears losing her. Tell me, wouldn’t you have wanted the knowledge before you were offered the choice of this life, Iain?” Afzal asks this throatily, nearly overcome with emotion, and in a surprisingly quiet voice.

  Both are silent for such a long time, but there is a sudden shift of acceptance in the air, and Iain pulls up a stool to settle beside me properly.

  I don’t say anything, afraid to ruin it with my mouth, so I sit meekly and wait to be spoken to, my gaze pinging between the two of them anxiously.

  “Listen with care,” Iain begins in his thick burr, which deepens and lowers ominously. “I’ll say this once, ye ken?” Wide eyed, I nod. Iain places his fisted hands on the surface and stares at them. “There are eighte
en generations of our kind. Adam, an Auld one, is the oldest in existence we know of. He’s over four thousand years old, but he’s not the first, and he cannot remember his Sire though he believes ‘twas a woman. There was another before her but his name is lost to time. After Adam came Heloise, Jakob, then Elaina who claimed Henry, then Damien, William, Olivia, Sarah who then turned Sebastian–”

  “Who is my Sire,” Afzal interjects, reverence in his tone. “He is mated to the human, Nia.”

  I barely hear him because my mind is reeling. I grip my fingers together tightly and press them to my stomach as I process such a great length of time. Four thousand years old? My god! My goodness, how was that even possible! Adam was born Anno Domini. Pulling myself together, I centre my attention back on what Iain had said; I did promise I would pay attention. Sebastian…? Hmm … no image comes to mind. I do remember the delicate redhead who fainted was called Nia. Ah, I remember Sebastian; he is the one with the kind face, and the murky blue eyes. I nod slowly, suddenly feeling claustrophobic and overwhelmed. These people are so close knitted, so interlinked, no wonder they may react with hostility when someone new enters their world. “Okay, I’m following you, I think. After that?”

  “I chose Iain,” Afzal finishes then walks back to tend to his bubbling pots of food.

  “Aye, he did,” Iain continues in a level voice. “Afzal’s my Sire, and one of the greatest men I ‘ave the honour of knowing.” The big man flinches for the briefest of seconds before he continues to focus his attentions on his cooking. Iain looks up from his fists at me, his bottle green eyes intense. “I sired Simone who turned Anya, and ‘twas she who chose Daniel. Then came the reigning Child, Ben.” He pauses. “Now, the time has passed, and Ben is to choose his protégée.”

  “Me,” I whisper.

  Iain inclines his head. “Aye.” Then he smirks, his eyes twinkling teasingly. “Glaikit.”

  I worry my lip and think hard on what I’ve learned. “Ben is the youngest, a child in your eyes, someone to protect. I get that. A bloodline so old, eighteen generations past is something worth protect–”

  “No!” Afzal barks and spins around marching up to me. His beefy hand slaps the countertop and my abandoned plate of food jumps a foot in the air to land with a horrible clatter. “You misunderstand. You are not listening!”

  “What happens here?” Simone’s guttural voice cuts through the room like a blade of steel. Both Iain and Afzal retreat from me in a blink, standing beside each other on the other side of the room guiltily. Simone glides into the kitchen; her smoky dress fluttering behind her in an unfelt wind, even her cornflower blonde hair flickers behind her. She arches one slender brow at my dishevelled appearance and my scattered dinner. “All is not well in here?”

  Slipping off my stool, I try to look around her expecting Ben to follow in her wake. “I’m fine. Where’s Ben?”

  “Wie bitte? Ah, entschuldigung. Hier ist mit mein schatz,” she answers. Her lips pinch in frustration when my expression remains blank. “With Adam. They are in … disagreement.”

  I frown, images of Adam and Ben clashing come to mind. “Disagreement isn’t another way to say fighting is it?”

  The three of them laugh. I wince. I’m used to them talking; shouting and laughing is another thing. These emotional outbursts have the beings injecting more force and power into their voices.

  “If our kind fought you would know about it,” Simone says in amusement. “None would be stupid enough to lift a hand to the Child. Fear not, right now, Ben is the safest being on this earth.” Biting back a huff of irritation, I cannot help but drop my hip, and tap my foot once. All the cryptic mentions are getting to me. It’s bloody frustrating, not to mention rude, no matter how ancient and powerful they are. Simone steps aside and motions to the restaurant. “I sense you become weary of us.”

  Ouch, Lee, looks like she’s had about enough of you too.

  Giving her a curt nod, I smile at Iain and Afzal. I feel compelled to defend them. Though Iain sired Simone, I have a feeling certain topics are dealt with as equals, this secret being one of them. I throw over my shoulder at Simone, “They didn’t tell me anything.”

  “Natürlich,” she murmurs.

  Walking through the restaurant, I note that it’s now empty. Wow, I really know how to ruin a good evening, huh? What about all the food Afzal is cooking? The attendant hands me my sweater and I take it from him with a murmured thanks. Politely, he opens the door for me, and I step out into street to watch as Adam and Ben abruptly stop talking, and both turn to me.

  I can’t help but look at Adam in a new light. This man predates the birth of Christ by millennia. I wonder where he was born and all the things he has seen come then fade to legend. How terrifying. How fascinating. How did he stay so upbeat and interested? Is he not bored of simply being? Would he ever let me cuddle him?

  I spend a good minute staring at him before he cocks his head, light blonde hair spilling over his shoulder. He smiles and pats Ben’s shoulder. “Tell her,” he says softly then dips his head at me before going back inside, no doubt to find Simone.

  My eyes finally find Ben whose face is turned to the sky, eyes are closed. ‘Walk with me,’ he thinks. We do, side by side, arms and fingers brushing. I ache to entwine my fingers with his, but dare not whilst he is in such a dark mood. ‘Ask. I know you want to so let us be done with it.’

  I jerk and rub my sweaty palms on my hips. Why so abrupt and harsh? Did he know I was looking for answers from his people? Or had he seen in my mind all that had transpired and is angered by it? Maybe it’s not all about me, maybe the pressure from his people is too much to bear. I take a deep breath mentally, bracing myself for what he is going to say, and by his quick smile, I know he heard or felt it. “Why did Daniel react so…?”

  ‘Dramatically?’

  I smile. “That’ll do. I don’t understand why he has such a problem with me when he’s only just met me. The others seem to be fine. I assume it has to do with your bloodline and keeping it pure, or something. If I’m honest I don’t even understand that, because it’s clear to me none of you are related, you are all born in different times, so I can’t understand why me joining your family would cause a problem.”

  His fingers reach out and brush over the back of my hand. My feet want to stumble, but I force my stride not to falter.

  ‘I will tell you everything. I promise. Afterwards.’

  Ah, so this was his decision. Despite Adam’s plea for him to tell me this big secret, Ben was deciding to keep the reasoning for Afzal’s distress, and Daniel’s dislike of me to himself. I stop dead and he takes another two steps before turning to face me. How could he ask this of me? Why would he? He had shown me things others would not dare to dream in the most frightful of nightmares, yet, he would not reveal this one thing that may or may not be the deciding factor if I stayed with him forever?

  In my mind I choke. He cannot do this.

  ‘I already have. I cannot tell you until you have turned.’

  “Why are you doing this?” I ask and step closer to him. He moves back. Furious now, I close the distance between us and clasp his head then grip his shirt because he shrugs me away, and blink away the tears gathering in my eyes. No, no, no, he cannot choose this! He pulls away with little effort, but I cling to him and struggle to get him to hold me. “Are you telling me you give this up?”

  ‘I cannot–’

  “Open your mouth and speak,” I shriek. Hearing myself, I cool and straighten, letting my hands fall from him to hang limp at my sides. “As you reject me, at least have enough respect to speak the words.”

  “You reject me,” he counters in his unfathomable voice. It reverberates through my skull.

  I shake off the power and focus on his eyes, beseeching him. “You know I won’t do this without knowing everything. So please, tell me.”

  ‘My bride–’

  I slam my fist to his chest. “Damn you, Ben, say the words!”

  ‘No. It
hurts you.’ He touches a fingertip to my face and softly traces the curve of my cheek.

  I still, look him in the eyes. You’re breaking my heart. Ben, whatever this is, it can’t touch us. Tell me.

  He flinches. Ben’s dark eyes are anguished, pained even, but resolved. This is worse than a death knell. Ben is as stubborn as me.

  There is nothing else, is there? This is it. He will not bend and I cannot. I can’t become like him without knowing the cost. The feeding is something I’m willing to accept, but if there is more I have to know. I’m ready to give him everything, but surely, it’s fair to know exactly what I’m getting myself into before there is no way out? Such a leap of faith! I’ve known him days not years, and though he means more to me than any other before him, how can I in good conscience simply offer everything I am whilst doubting the future? If this is his choice, fine, I’ve made mine.

  I take one last look at his face and wrap my arms around myself. My eyes drift closed, and a tear runs down my cheek. If you cannot trust me then you must leave.

  I hear him sob, feel his cheek rub against mine, then nothing.

  Oh god, so fast.

  I open my eyes and I’m alone.

  He is gone. Just like that? Did he have no words to try and convince me to change my mind? No grand speech to beg me to reconsider? Am I that expendable he can toss me aside so easily? Falling to the ground, my legs unable to manage the weight of his loss, I cry like I’ve never cried before.