“Sorry, Cozul,” he choked, not wishing to get on the wrong side of his handsome peer. Cozul was not one with which to be trifled and Nelo immediately recognized his mistake, checking his tone.
“Let me take it from you,” Nelo offered stepping forward, dragging along his gimpy leg. Cozul danced back as if Nira was not draped across his shoulders.
“No, greedy boy. First tell me why you are so disgruntled.”
Nelo snorted and gestured at the cocoon again.
“Another one’s dead which means we’re down to one so thank Hades you’re here.”
Cozul cringed at the news. The council would not be happy to know his donor had perished on the trip.
This is terrible timing, he thought grimly but it was past time for reconsideration. Nira was counting on him and he could feel her heart pounding desperately against her slinky dress.
Shh, you must take more shallow breaths! Cozul told her. He felt her obey in his arms.
“I fear I have more bad news,” he told the Lesser who eyed Nira hungrily. “This one is also dead.”
Nelo stared at him, his waxen face almost clear.
“You best get to the council and tell them right away. We will need to send out someone else right away. I will take it to the incinerator.”
“That is what I intend to do,” Cozul replied, whirling on his heel. “After I dispose of this myself. I want to say my goodbyes. I felt like this one was going to last a long while.”
Cozul was almost at the door when Nelo called out to him.
“Are you certain it’s dead?”
Cozul froze in his tracks, slowly turning to eye the Lesser.
“Are you questioning me, Nelo?”
Nelo was so pale, Cozul was shocked he was still standing.
“No, no of course not!” he protested. “I – I just thought I could hear its heartbeat.”
“Nelo, have the doctor check out your ears when she arrives for harvest at high noon,” Cozul ordered. “You are imagining things. Do you not think I would hear it if she is this close to me? She is dead. I assure you.”
Before Nelo could say another word, he stormed from the warehouse and quickly returned to his car, placing Nira gently over the backseat.
“Are you alright?” he asked her. The blood from her body had rushed into her head from the position he had carried her and she looked dizzy. She nodded and tried to smile.
“Lay down between the seats and do not move. I must meet with the council,” he told her. “Afterwards, I will take you to my home.”
Obediently, she crammed herself between the floor and front seats and Cozul threw a blanket over her before jumping into the front. He reversed from the loading dock and drove along the back of the large property, circling around to the front of the luxurious mansion on the Seforic Sea.
If I can convince the council that she died in transport, we will be fine but if they suspect anything…
He forced his mind to be clear of thoughts and plastered a grim expression on his face. He parked the car in the six-car garage, looking about for any sign of his peers but he could see no one.
Good. They are all asleep. I will not be forced to answer stupid questions about Nira.
As he opened the front doors to the foyer, he was struck with a familiar sense that he was being watched. Whirling, his nerves taut, he caught a glimpse of two glowing eyes disappear behind the staircase and into the panel tunnels. Whomever it was would be lost in the maze of the house before he caught up with him.
If that is you, Atieno, you best satisfy your voyeuristic urges while you can. I will be gone soon.
At least he hoped that was true.
“Jemmy, please retire. You are giving me vertigo with your incessant pacing.” Jemmy spun to gaze at Amaia, his face contorted in anger.
“With all due respect, my sister, my movement is the least of your concerns. We have lost another donor and Cozul has yet to return.”
Amaia smiled in bemusement.
“Are you thirsty, comrade? Our goblets are full still. Help yourself,” she mocked, extending a slim finger toward the silver tray of galvanized stemware.
“How are you always so flippant? Nonchalance will not save us when the hybrids are running amok and we have no recourse due to starvation.”
Amaia chuckled and rose from her chair, retrieving two glasses. She handed one to Jemmy who scowled but accepted it.
“Your obsession with the hybrids usurping is becoming fanatical,” she warned, taking a long drink. Her face immediately puckered and she spat the liquid into a bowl.
“That being said, I believe our final donor is losing flavor as well.”
“It is not an obsession; it is a legitimate fear,” Jemmy retorted and Amaia hissed, pouncing on the councilman.
“If you have fear, you are not a true immortal,” she growled, her eyes scalding lumps of blue lava. “Are you hybrid also? Fear does not belong in this house among the elders and it does not belong in the North. Your uncertainty will cause an uprising before the hybrids. Silence with this nonsense, once and for all!”
Jemmy balked and retreated, bowing his head.
“Forgive me, sister,” he groveled and Amaia released his collar, dropping him in a pile to the floor. “I did not mean fear in such a way. My concern is simply civil unrest. It has been a century; the hybrids are maturing. History dictates it is only a matter of time – “
“History dictates nothing!” she barked. “I dictate – we dictate all. We have hand raised them since birth. They know only our way, not the ways of the mortals. They may possess certain qualities which we do not but we still outrank them with experience, wisdom and dark secrets. They will never catch up to us. You must accept that they know their place. If I were to wager money on anyone causing an uprising, it would be the Lessers.”
Jemmy snorted at the thought of the half-wits doing any such thing and chugged his goblet back in one gulp.
The Lessers could not organize a tea party if we provided them with cups, pots, tea and a table.
They were another bane of his existence. Jemmy had rallied to have the Lessers terminated, overruling immortal law. He had argued that they were a stain on them, but he knew it was useless to argue with Amaia. While they were both elders, she dominated him in the realm simply because of her age. Privately, Jemmy wished her aging would inevitably lead to her death but with every year which passed, Amaia seemed to grow stronger, faster and more terrifying.
He still deferred to her, but he found himself resenting her more with every decision she overruled. This business with allowing Cozul to leave the others, for example. It was foolhardy and designed to cause friction among the other hybrids. Soon all of them would be demanding their own location and when that happened, a civil unrest would ensue.
If you give these ingrates a foot, they will take a mile, Jemmy knew but explaining this to Amaia was pointless. The antediluvian witch is determined to learn the hard way.
Jemmy had little recourse in the matter but to keep his sharp ears extra honed and watch the youngest of the tribe carefully.
Especially Cozul.
As if he had sent his thoughts out, there was a knock on the study door. Without waiting for a response, Cozul strode inside, a customary smirk on his face.
“Cozul!” Amaia cried happily, shooting Jemmy a satisfied look. “Come in, my sweet boy.”
“Did you miss me?” he asked jovially but Jemmy caught something in his voice. He and Amaia exchanged a look instantly.
“What happened?” Jemmy demanded but Cozul shook his head.
“Ah ah ah,” he replied extending a gloved palm. “Keys and directions to my new home first, please.”
“You do not presume to tell us what to – “Jemmy began to snarl but Amaia slid forward, depositing a set of keys into Cozul’s palm.
“Your new home is across Pexil’s Cove, waterside on Ferry Street. It has no number but you will know it; it has flowering tigerfruit trees and a small black gate
.”
Jemmy bit back an explosion of words and gritted his teeth in fury.
“Thank you, Amaia,” he told her graciously, rising from the chair and turning toward the door.
“Have you delivered the donor then?” Jemmy finally asked as Cozul reached for the knob. He paused and smacked his hand to his head as if he had forgotten to tell them something.
“I almost neglected to mention,” he replied, turning slowly. “She died in transport.”
Jemmy’s face was a mask of rage and he lunged toward Cozul, thrusting the younger vampire against the door to the library.”
“You ungrateful – “
“Unhand him, Jemmy,” Amaia ordered. Jemmy flashed his teeth at the hybrid and dropped him. Cozul rose, dusting himself off as if nothing had occurred. He maintained the nonchalant expression.
“As I was saying, Amaia. Yes, the donor died just after we left customs but I will leave as soon as my travel permit allows and retrieve another. Is that acceptable?”
Amaia regarded him closely, her index finger reaching up to stroke her chin.
“I imagine it will have to be,” she replied slowly. “If that is what happened.”
“Give us the keys,” Jemmy yelled but Amaia held up her hand.
“No, he may keep the house for now. You have one week to return to us with another donor. Perhaps you need to spend more time scoping your area before committing. This is the first one you have lost, is it not, Cozul?”
He nodded, lowering his eyes as if to show shame, but Jemmy did not buy into his act of contrition. He could sense something was amiss.
“Perhaps I am getting over confident,” he mumbled. “I will do much better next time.”
“You are beyond over confident. You are arrogant and smug!” Jemmy retorted but Amaia held up her hand once more to silence the other elder.
“Thank you. You are dismissed, Cozul.”
He nodded and hurried from the room, leaving the two members of council alone.
“You allow him to get away with everything!” Jemmy cried, throwing his arms up in frustration. “You will learn to regret it one day, Amaia. Mark my words.”
“Get out,” she hissed, her face turning stone-like. Jemmy realized he had gone too far. He did not waste time apologizing. He knew her far too well to know that groveling when she was that irate was useless. He escaped through the door before she could unleash her wrath.
Amaia watched him disappear and sat back against her throne-like chair, closing her eyes. She was not a stupid woman. Like Jemmy, she could feel the lie in Cozul’s words. She had no choice but to keep a closer eye on her favorite hybrid. She hoped he would not disappoint her. She did not wish ill to fall upon Cozul.
Atieno, come to me, she summoned.
Chapter Seven
She was afraid to move from the purple chaise but she was terrified to stay in place simultaneously. It was the same fear for the same reason; discovery. Nira had no reason to believe she was truly safe in the cozy cottage where Cozul had smuggled her but what choice did she have but to trust him.
He has probably risked a lot to hide me here in the first place, she thought to herself logically, but the idea did not ease the panic she was feeling. What if he had ulterior motives? What if he had no intention of taking her back? There was no way of knowing what made an immortal tick. Perhaps this was a ploy of sorts.
Nira understood inherently that she felt more woe about losing her chance to seek retribution against Delano than she did about becoming a blood donor to a tribe of vampires. The realization depressed her but it was accurate. In the past weeks, her days had been fuelled with the thought of avenging her attacker. Before High Stakes, she had been drifting through life, meaningless almost, trying to find her way. The umbra of her childhood seemed to haunt her in all walks of life, holding her down when she tried to rise.
High Stakes was supposed to be my ticket out of that, she thought with some misery as she looked about her new surroundings. Somehow that already feels like a lifetime ago.
It was almost noon, the suns riding high in the sky and had she been permitted, Nira would have parted the crushed velvet drapes and peered into the sparkling purple-blue waters of the cove. Yet Cozul’s words rang sharply in her ears.
“You do not touch the curtains,” he told her as he huddled her into the house. “You stay in one spot and avoid movement at all costs. If anyone passing by sees movement at this time of day…” He did not need to finish his thought. Her fate was becoming more and more clear with each second.
He seemed confused about which key to use to unlock the front door but he quickly figured it out, glancing secretively about. He did not have to worry; there was not another dwelling in sight and even if there had been, the property was privately lined with the dappling of tigerbrush and cinderlilies, all blocking the view from the small dirt path. Of course, the immortals were asleep, the suns driving them into their dark nests with the light firmly blocked out. Nira longed to run into the sunlight and soak up the intense beauty of the outdoors. It was so unlike anything she had ever seen in her life. There was solitude and peace, nature and calm. Life in the South was bustling and busy, packed with people in even the smallest of towns. While there were thousands of miles of land which belonged within townships, no one ever ventured from their high-rise lifestyles to build a home in the middle of nowhere. Those in houses lived in gated communities by the thousands and the very rich intermingled their mansions into a network of billionaire complexes where their servants flowed through the tunnels like army ants and no one was ever unnoticed. There was a sociological reasoning for this; since the First World War, no mortal wished to be easy prey for the immortal world. It was widely known that vampires mainly stalked the solitary and in defense, the humans grew colonies of their own, stacking houses upon houses, adding additions to buildings and erecting more gates while creating more domiciles in the same location.
The few very brave or very foolish who had dared leave their human communities had quickly gone missing as if the immortals were simply standing by, watching and waiting. By the Second World War, no one lived alone. Neighbours took turns standing guard with blessed water, scripture and wooden stakes, waiting for the immortals to make their moves. The mortal world was onto the vampire’s abilities and their defenses were stronger than they had been five hundred years earlier. They had not accounted for the lengths a starving nocturnal beast would endure to feast. It had been chaos, bloodshed and mayhem until the Universal Police System had gassed out the vampires with garlic mist, repelling them to the North.
In the end, twenty ambassadors had met at the equator to reach a pact, ten vampires and ten humans. What happened precisely at that fateful conference, no one was certain. Only four ambassadors came out alive; two immortal and two mortal, one from each corner of the world. No one spoke a word of what had transpired but the outcome had been the Half-Truce, an uneasy, unwritten treaty which segregated the North from the South indefinitely. Orders for the Great Divider were drafted and the two species were forever to be separated.
The humans had been outraged, demanding the vampires be obliterated after raping their women and claiming their lives to fill their bloodlust but the sanction was upheld despite the disbelief of the mortal world.
Over time, the vampires had grown into less of a worry for most people, the memory of the damage caused becoming smaller and smaller.
Out of sight, out of mind, Nira thought regretfully. How could we have been so willfully blind? How were the immortals to sustain themselves if not with mortal blood? How could we have happily carried on with our lives never questioning how they survived in the North?
A wave of shame washed over her as she realized why her kind had believed such a thing; everyone had assumed the vampires had merely died off, starving to death in their exile.
And we were content to believe that.
Thousands of years ago, as legend had it, there were no immortals. People lived and died ju
st as the humans of present day but something happened in the northeastern jungles, an outbreak of sorts. The history had little record of who was affected and how it happened but suddenly, a small tribe of blood drinkers emerged into the villages. They were not discreet, taking lives at will and without fear of reprisal. They could not be killed, despite numerous attempts to poison and stab them. They seemed to until one of these tribesmen inadvertently left a young mother alive after feasting upon her blood. In three moons, she had become undead just as the others infected and in months, the immortals had learned to claim more clansmen from the terrified mortals. The humans could not know which destiny was worse; dying at the hands of a vampire or becoming one.
Nira sighed, shuddering as the history played rampantly in her mind, wondering how the humans could have been so naïve.
They would not merely disappear; history has shown that. Why were we not more vigilant?
She reassured herself by reminding herself these creatures were cunning, manipulative. They would have found a way to feast no matter what precautions were taken.
Nira’s mind shifted focus to Cozul. He was unlike anything she had ever learned about. The depictions she had seen in school of the immortals were that of sickly, frail beings with bony phalanges and throbbing incisors. Cozul was none of those things. Granted, he was creamy skinned and slender but that was where the similarities ended.
He looks mortal. That is how they could come to the South so easily and avoid detection. Somehow, they learned to assimilate. But how? Genetic engineering? Did they splice human genes into that of vampires? Will I be used for that also?
Nira was terrified as her imagination began to run through the unimaginable.
You must remain calm, she told herself, inhaling deeply. The air was thinner in the North, causing her to feel sleepy but she dared not close her eyes. Cozul had left her alone, returning to the estate for his belongings.
She considered running but how far would she go and what would happen if she was captured? She had only one option; trust the vampire who had stolen her away from her life in the South. She had no way of knowing if he genuinely intended to return her to the South or if he had a worse fate in mind, but something in the pit of her belly told her that he would honor his promise. At least she hoped for it to be true and at that point, all that remained for Nira was hope.
A Secret Baby for the Vampire Page 5