She shook her head, her gaze on the floor.
Ptah put two fingers under her chin and pulled her eyes to him. “The real reason you hate yourself so much,” he explained, “is because there is a part of you that enjoys being a vampire. There is a part of you that revels in drinking blood and being immortal. And you hate yourself for this.” He paused with deliberation. “You hate me because I made you the way you are.”
She nodded, the emotions and confusion within her swelling at each word he spoke.
He leaned close. “Well, my sweet, let me confide a little secret with you.” His hand moved to her mouth, his thumb caressing her dark pink lips. “While I have no doubt that you harbor some token of hatred toward me, you are also grateful to me for giving you endless life. That is why you will always come back to me, and that is why it took you so long to leave me in the first place.”
He leaned over and kissed her.
Leisha closed her eyes and felt a pain deep within her emerge. She did not want to fall into the trap Ptah was luring her into, yet she felt some truth in his words. She pulled back from his kiss and his hands, but made no move to escape as she’d initially intended.
Ptah held up his hands. “I understand you may not be ready to face the truth as of yet, but one day you will.” He kissed her hair. “And once you do, you will thank me.”
Leisha swallowed and felt herself trembling. It would be so much easier to give in to him. She could go back, and he would take care of her, in his own twisted way. She would once again be revered as a powerful vampire and would no longer worry about feeling so alone in the world. She was tired of trying to control her hunger, at making an effort to do good in order to make up for all of her sins.
It was such a tempting thought that she was on the brink of folding. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to be in that life again. She had friends who’d enjoyed her company. They’d include her in their hunts and orgies . . . in the bloodshed and torture of innocent people who had never done anyone harm. She would go out in the daylight and bring back “young pretties” for their enjoyment. She would once again be enabling their twisted habits.
“No!” she screamed as she slapped him on the cheek. She stood and looked down at him. “I’m free of you now. I don’t want to come back to you and play your sick games.” She pressed her lips together and forced herself to calm. “I don’t want to go back, Ptah, but I will because I gave you a blood oath that I would come if you needed me. But know that I will leave you again as soon as this nonsense is over. And I will be the one who decides when you no longer need me.”
Ptah stood and smiled as if he knew something she did not. “We shall see.” He walked over to the television. “I think once you are among us again, you will be enlightened.” He turned back to her. “You need to understand that you never were, nor will, ever be free of me.” He began sauntering around the room, studying her decorations. “You may even begin to understand that it is useless for you to continue pining after that sorry warrior of an immortal. After all, he never truly loved you, did he?”
Intense pain rippled through her chest.
Ptah waved away any possible denials. “Do not bother to lie to me or yourself. We both know you still think of him as some paragon. But think on this for a moment. What happened when Tafari’s love and loyalty were put to the test?”
Leisha felt the old hurt of Tafari’s rejection as if it was just yesterday that it happened. She stumbled to the couch and sat, overwhelmed with the mix of feelings and memories that protruded.
“You have never been accepted by those you loved, Leisha. Even when you were human, you were not accepted.”
“That’s not true.”
He smiled. “The witch doctor took you in, yes. Then there is Tafari, of course. But what happened after that?”
She could not speak, could not move. His words were like acid running through her body. The pain of becoming a vampire would have been more preferable than this.
“You did something so noble.” Ptah’s voice was patronizing. “An act of true love. Something humans are supposed to admire, yes?” He was beginning to look smug. “But what happened when you did this? You were rejected by the only people you loved. The only people who had supposedly accepted you. Their love was supposed to be unconditional, was it not?”
Every word that came out of his mouth killed her just a little more, and she knew it would not hurt this much if it was not true. He was obviously trying to manipulate her, but she could not argue with what he was saying.
“Would you like me to continue?” he asked.
She shook her head.
He walked over and knelt in front of her, taking her hands in his. “My feelings for you are unconditional. I will always welcome you. Even after you left me over a hundred years ago, I am here now to take you back. Come with me Leisha. I will always want you. Always.”
These were the words of the devil. But she could not argue against the truth, the logic in them. She could feel herself being seduced by what Ptah was offering. Leisha had no other choice—Ptah had deflated every sense of hope she’d ever felt.
The master vampire was correct; she was going to return to him. There was no use in fighting what she was anymore. As much as she tried to hold on to her altruism, it did not prove redeeming. After all, she thought to herself, Tafari still doesn’t want me and never bothered to find out why I became a vampire. Maybe he never cared enough to know in the first place.
Ptah’s arms embraced her, and she burrowed into his body. She gave in and willingly allowed it. Just for this night, she told herself, the way she’d been telling herself every time Ptah sought for her. In such moments, she took the comfort he was offering her. Just one last time.
CHAPTER 3
Despite her current grief, Samantha couldn’t help but be curious about this place. The decent size house was in a quiet neighborhood. Her father had told her that most of the people in this area frequently traveled on business. Apparently, it wasn’t much of a family community and she wouldn’t meet anyone her age around here.
That was fine with her, though. She’d always gotten along with adults better than people her age. She was used to hanging out with her mom and her mom’s friends. Mary had been as wonderful a friend as she’d been a mother.
The vision of her mom bloody and dying appeared suddenly in Samantha’s mind, and she shut her eyes against it.
“Headache?” her father asked.
She shook her head.
He hesitated for a moment, then walked past her and carried her suitcases up the stairs. “Your room is up here,” he said over his shoulder.
She followed without comment. It had been years since she last talked to her father, and it showed. They hardly spoke more than a few words to each other since he picked her up from the airport.
When they got to her room, she saw that he’d made a feeble effort to make it look feminine. The bedspread was a pink floral design; it was definitely new. She didn’t tell him how she hated floral designs. Instead, she continued to survey what was now her quarters.
Apart from the bed, a brown Formica desk sat in the corner next to a window with no shades. The closet was directly across from the bed; its doors wide open, exposing a row of empty metal hangers. Beside the closet stood a small white dresser.
It was nothing like her room back home—that room was bright with cheerful colors everywhere. It was also spacious. She wondered if she should bother putting up all the pictures that used to adorn the walls of her old room. Maybe they would help liven up the place.
Samantha suppressed a sigh. “It’s nice. Thanks.”
Her father put her suitcases in front of the closet and stood to look at her. His dark brown hair was combed neatly in his usual “professional” look. His shoulders were broad and his build could easily be intimidating, but the nervousness Samantha felt had nothing to do with her father’s athletic physique. It was the look in his piercing blue eyes—the same color as hers—that hel
d some emotions of uncertainty, perhaps even a little fear. But what she mostly saw was a scrutinizing look. He probably didn’t even realize he was doing it, but he was studying her as if she were a bug under a microscope.
She pushed away the urge to ask about his work. He’d never told her mother when they were married, so she knew it would have been a futile effort to try to assuage that part of her curiosity.
“I’m glad you like it, Samantha,” her father replied.
They stood there for a few awkward seconds.
He glanced at his watch.
“Don’t let me keep you from anything.” She hoped she came off as casual.
He smiled. “I do have some errands to run before it gets too late. Are you all right being here by yourself?”
She forced a small chuckle. “Of course, Dad. I’m sixteen, not six.”
He twitched slightly when she called him Dad. It was the first time she had addressed him, and it did feel disagreeable leaving her mouth. He stayed composed, leaving her to unpack as he exited the room.
Samantha slumped to the bed as soon as her door closed. Traveling was supposed to make anyone feel tired, but she was sure her exhaustion had a lot to do with the last hour of arriving in Nevada and dealing with her father.
She wondered if maybe he wouldn’t mind her calling him Mason instead of Dad. She was sure he didn’t really think of himself that way. Why would he? The last time she saw him was over ten years ago when her mother left him. Her parents’ separation hadn’t been that difficult for her, since her father wasn’t around much anyway.
She pushed her thoughts away as she got up to unpack. The Spartan room could be worse. Maybe she could ask her dad if she could paint it. Possibly buy a colorful chair to brighten it up. Oh, well. It wasn’t really important in the grand scheme of things, although it would certainly help her feel better.
She hadn’t known what to expect from her dad when she arrived. On the plane over she had thought that maybe they could at least share a connection of grief for her mom, but he had simply asked her if she’d checked in any luggage. He was all business when it came to locating her bags and getting everything loaded up in his car.
The drive to her new home was silent. No music. No conversation. She simply reciprocated his stoicism, and wondered if it would be like this until she graduated. If so, she would seriously think about early graduation, then off to college immediately after that. A college that was at least a few states away.
Samantha sighed. It was possible she might be too hard on her dad. After all, her mother had once been in love with him enough to marry him. Samantha suspected that her mom had never stopped loving him. So that meant he couldn’t be all that bad. Hopefully.
Samantha pulled out a few pairs of jeans, and was starting to lay them in the middle drawer of the dresser when—
Suddenly, she was no longer in the house. Instead, she was in what looked like a warehouse. It was practically bare except for a bunch of boxes lined up against the wall to her left. To her right, a room separated her from the rest of the place with a simple white curtain. There was screaming coming from behind it.
Samantha walked over to the curtain and pushed it aside. It looked like a medical laboratory. Tubes filled with various liquids lay systematically on one table. On another table were other kinds of instruments that sent an ice-cold chill down her spine—knives, saws, and blades shimmered in the fluorescent light.
Between the two tables a group of men wearing what reminded her of SWAT uniforms—though they did not look like they belonged to any police force—stood guard around a dentist chair.
Except this chair had metal bars that held down the arms and legs of a woman with long, blonde hair and large almond-shaped eyes, the most striking green irises Samantha had ever seen. The woman’s high cheekbones and angular jaw line defined her beauty—that even under such unflattering circumstance she still appeared beguiling.
One of the men probed a metal object against the woman’s neck. It seemed to be giving her a sort of electrical shock. The woman screamed every time he touched it to her neck.
“Interesting,” said an all-too-familiar voice behind her.
Samantha turned to see her dad in his usual suit and tie under a white lab coat looking at the woman as if she were a lab rat. “Let’s try it at a higher voltage and see if she can take some more.” He pulled out a clip board from behind him and began making notes . . .
Samantha gasped and panted as she came back to herself. She was again in the gloomy house and her father was still gone. She realized the jeans were still in her arms, and that she was clutching them tightly to her chest. Letting them drop to the floor, she went back to lower herself on the bed.
She always had to lie down after a vision. The lightheadedness that came afterward did not last long, and in fifteen minutes she would be able to stand again. Her mother had always warned her that no one should ever know about her psychic premonition ability. “Especially not your father,” her mother had emphasized.
What was he doing to that poor woman? Or rather, what is he going to do? Experience had taught her to rely on the visions she received; they always came true. The problem was she never knew when it would actually happen.
She knew that she couldn’t ignore this vision. There must be a reason why it appeared in her mind. Now she just had to figure what action she needed to take.
She wished her mother were here. Mary would know Samantha’s options whenever she had a vision.
When Samantha was twelve she had a vision about an old woman’s death. “The woman was ready to die,” Samantha had told her mother. “It was as if I could hear her thoughts while she was getting ready to move on to the next life. She felt content with everything except for a misunderstanding between her and her granddaughter. She left a bunch of messages for her granddaughter, but the girl wouldn’t even talk to her. The woman died regretting not having the chance to explain the situation and apologize to her granddaughter.”
“Well,” her mother mused while she sipped her morning coffee. “Do you know who that young girl is?”
Samantha nodded and explained that through the woman’s thoughts, she was able to capture the girl’s contact information. The girl’s name was Mallory. Then her mother told her to locate Mallory and explain to her what the old woman had wanted to say. It was the first time Samantha had even considered doing something about her visions.
Going to the house of a complete stranger so that she could help the dead fulfill some unfinished business was awkward—she had to tell Mallory that her grandmother sent her—but it turned out well. After Samantha relayed the grandmother’s message, Mallory cried on Samantha’s shoulder, then sat up and gave her a brilliant smile. She thanked Samantha and attended the funeral service the following afternoon to pay her final respects.
It was then that Samantha realized all the good she could do with her visions. Since that time, she always found a way to help those in her visions any way she could. Now, she would have to figure out a way to help the woman cuffed in the dentist chair. The thought of what this woman was going through made Samantha shudder.
Maybe she could just follow her dad to work and see if there was a way to help the woman escape.
Again, the curiosity about her father dove into her thoughts. What would happen if he did find out about her psychic ability? Was the woman in her vision psychic as well? Her father did work for the government, and there were plenty of conspiracy theories in the world about the government. Samantha usually paid no mind to them . . . but what if? What if her father was involved in some kind of experiment with people? She could still see her father’s scrutinizing gaze in her mind. Was she living with a monster?
Her body started to tremble as the possibilities came to mind. It took her most of the night to think things over. She contemplated confronting her dad as she put her clothes away and wondered how she could save the woman from her fate. She still wasn’t sure what her course of action would be wh
en she climbed onto the soft mattress and pulled the covers to her chest. But she did know one thing—she would do whatever it took to get the woman out of that nightmare.
CHAPTER 4
Leisha had finally finished preparing to leave. She had packed up all of her belongings and sent them ahead to India. Ptah would send someone to pick them up. That way, her room would be ready for her when she got there. It had been Ptah’s suggestion, and Leisha very well knew that it had more to do with him making sure she got to India as soon as she could.
Leisha made a stop to the grocery store to purchase some iron pills. She had a long flight ahead of her and would not be able to feed on the flight. Iron and the plane food would have to suffice for the duration.
Walking out of the store toward her car, she felt a sudden and intense sensation of danger. She wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but whenever she got that feeling, she knew some kind of threat was just around the corner.
She stopped and looked around. The parking lot was mostly empty, with a few cars parked here and there. No one was in sight, and no customers were heading to or from the store. The street beyond the parking lot was pretty busy with the evening traffic full of commuters getting home.
She strained her ears to see if she could hear anyone approaching, but heard no footsteps or even a heartbeat. There was a faint sound from a distance. It sounded like a high-pitched whistle, and it was getting louder.
Realizing what it was, Leisha abruptly hurled herself to the ground.
As she did, something grazed past her right shoulder.
They were far away. From what she could deduce, she decided that it had to be a sniper on the roof of a building somewhere, not the roof of the grocery store—she would have noticed. That meant it had to be a pro. Someone who could shoot at long ranges with deadly accuracy.
She heard the whistle sound again as she rolled through debris and gravel until she was beneath an old pickup truck. The bullet smashed into the front tire of the truck, and she realized too late, that there was a third whistle sound coming right on top of the second one that met its mark this time. She felt the pain explode through her hamstring and bit her lip. The pain was fiery and intense, already coursing through her whole body. She looked at her leg and saw that what she thought had been a bullet was more like a long silver rod poking out of her leg. It had to be a tranquilizer.
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