“What?!”
“Humans have ruled far too long, they degrade us and defile our names, and they hunt us out of fear. They rule this world, despite our powers. We are a stronger race, all of us, and it would be fairly easy for us to enslave them, to use them as blood supply, as food. Now do you see?”
“It’s not possible,” Isis argued. “There aren’t enough of us in the world. We would be outnumbered, and the humans know our weaknesses. Your plan is stupid, it’d never work!”
Caesareon tsked at her with impatience. “Which is why I intend to create my own army against the humans. The plan is perfect.”
“Okay, so why do you need me to help you? I’m sure you can handle all of this crazy shit on your own.”
At this, he smiled. “Because I need you to lead my army into battle.”
She reeled back a step. “I’m not leading anybody to do shit. Find yourself another lackey because I have plans for the rest of my life.”
Caesareon gave her a menacing look. “You will obey me.”
“Or what?” she demanded. “You’ll threaten my friends? Go ahead. I’m sure they can protect themselves, anyway. Plus, if you go through with this crappy plan, and I do say crappy, the world will go to shit anyway. I won’t be the one to help you ‘take over the world.’” She used air quotes. “Which, by the way, is sooo overrated. Here’s a suggestion: find a new hobby. I hear stamp collecting is great this time of year.”
Caesareon stood, slowly very much like the predator that Isis knew he was. “You were never one for silence, Isis,” he drawled out in a very seductive voice. “But I know you will obey me. You know how I know?”
Isis didn’t say anything. Didn’t want to risk her voice cracking in the way that she knew it would. She worried at her bottom lip instead.
“Because I am your master and you will have no other choice.”
Isis started to shake her head and yell, the only defense mechanism she had when she was with him, but found herself frozen in place, for some odd reason. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, it was like time had stopped and there was only her and Caesareon, and he was staring at her, his eyes flaring red.
“Come to me,” he purred in his rich chocolate voice.
And Isis did. No matter how loudly she screamed at herself not to, no matter how many times she tried to dig in her heels, nothing happened. She moved, not by her own volition, towards Caesareon; as if invisible chords were tied around her waist, tugging her towards him. She felt an odd tug at her temples, stronger than what she had felt before. With a sudden horror, she realized what it was.
Caesareon smiled triumphantly when she was standing in front of him. “You like my little trick? I learned it recently.” He circled her like a vulture. “Apparently, if you’re strong enough, you can control a vampire that you’ve created. It’s a simple mind trick, really.” He stopped in front of her, smiling.
Isis could only stare.
“Don’t look at me like that.” He reached his hand out and stroked her long hair between his fingers then trailed his hand down her cheek. “You asked for simplicities and you got them. And this is merely a demonstration. Now, kiss me.”
So Isis did. She stepped forward without any hesitation and pressed her lips against his.
His reaction was triumphant. He grabbed her by the waist and ground himself into her. Isis only felt revulsion at his touch. There was nothing comforting about it, nothing to like, but still, her body melted into him, as he commanded her to do vile things that she would have rather fought until the death than do for him.
Caesareon pushed her away. “Imagine if I had armies at my disposal! Thousands of humans, turned into vampires, under my control. All I have to do is slip into their minds, like I did with yours just now, and take this world for my own. Simplicities, Isis.” He dropped himself back down into his chair. Seconds later, the door to his room opened and in came one of his servant vampires.
“My Lord?” She curtseyed. Isis eyed her. She was kinda cute, with brown hair cropped really short and a pale face. Her eyes were blank, black; she sounded and moved like a robot. Isis assumed she was under his control.
“Bring me a snack,” he commanded with a sly smile on his face. “Preferably of the fresh supply we just got in today.”
“Yes, my Lord.” She curtseyed again and hurried out of the room. About a minute later, she came back inside, but she wasn’t alone. Clutched in her hands, was a long, black braid, and attached to it was a person. A girl was being hauled against her will into the room. She was kicking and screaming and crying for someone to help her. The robot-like vampire girl tossed her at Caesareon’s feet. “Food, my Lord,” she said.
“Very well, you may go.”
The girl curtseyed and scurried out of the room.
Caesareon looked down at the girl. Black strands of hair were out of place and matted down on her cheeks with sweat and blood. The right side of her face was black and swollen, as if she had been hit repeatedly.
“Please don’t hurt me!” the girl pleaded, reaching for his feet and clutching onto him. “Please don’t! I’ll do anything, I swear. Just, please don’t hurt me!” She begged and she begged and the more she did so, the more human and childish she sounded.
Isis didn’t blame her.
“You see, Isis? These low life creatures are beneath us.” He nudged the girl with his foot, sending her hold on him flying off. She fell backwards and stared up at Isis too.
“Please, help me! I don’t want to die!” she begged and tried to reach for Isis but Caesareon knocked her on her back with his foot. Isis wanted nothing more than to help her, but she couldn’t move, she couldn’t lift a finger, couldn’t even blink.
“Humans are so pathetic.” He bent down and took her braid in his hand, pulling at it, hard, until her neck was arched and ready for him. “They are only good for food supply.” He looked at Isis now. “And you love her so, that human of yours, the redhead. Why?”
She couldn’t answer.
“Never the matter.” He looked back down at the girl. “She’ll die soon enough.” He lunged for the girl’s throat, showing no mercy as he drank to his pleasure. She screamed a shrill, gut wrenching sound that Isis knew would haunt her forever.
Caesareon fed.
And all Isis could do was watch.
6
“Isis! Help me! Help us!”
Isis’s vision dripped in red, as if someone had placed a crimson veil before her eyes and that was the only thing that she could see. She pressed her fingers against her eyes, wiping at her vision and when she took her hand away a thick dark liquid came off with it. Blood, she thought. She wasn’t sure how she knew, when her vision was the way it was, but somehow she knew.
Suddenly, the smell assaulted her nose, metallic and tangy but under that coat, something sweeter, something dark and rich and sweet all blended into one. She put her lips to it and sucked. There was an explosion inside of her mouth. Like a weird type of fire had ignited her taste buds, causing her mouth to water and crave more. Blood? She thought with a weird revulsion, pulling her fingers out of her mouth. She was craving blood?
“Isis! Help us!”
Isis turned to the voice that spoke. Even though it was dark out, she could see who it was as clearly as if it were daytime. It was a child, no older than eleven, with dark skin and dark hair. His eyes were widened with shock, tears streaming down his face and he was leaning over a dead woman.
She wasn’t sure why, but this boy seemed familiar to her and at the same time so distant, a stranger. She also wasn’t sure why she could count each tear drop that descended his face or smell the salt on his body, and under that a sweet, sweet scent that made her mouth water. Her eardrums pounded with the sound of a rapidly beating heart. His heart.
“Isis! Help! Help us!” The child was obviously calling out to her. Isis? Was that her name? She could hardly remember anything beyond this moment. Still, she found herself inching towards the boy and the dead wom
an. The closer she got the more keen her senses became. The woman had an open wound on her neck, two puncture wounds, oozing very little blood, her skin, although dark, had become sickly pale. The boy looked at her with pleading eyes.
“Who are you?” Isis asked, cocking her head to the side.
The boy looked confused. “Isis, stop it!” he shrieked. “You have to help mom!”
She looked down at the dead woman. Mom? she wondered. This was his mother? She looked at the woman, then back to the boy. Yes, they had similar features, the same facial structure. Isis listened, the woman’s heart had stopped, she wasn’t moving, and she wasn’t breathing.
“I can’t help her. She’s dead.”
The boy sobbed, his shoulders racking up and down in rough movements. He buried his face into his mother’s body and cried. Isis didn’t know what to say, what could she say? How could she offer her condolences to a boy she didn’t even know? She simply placed a hand on his shoulder. Suddenly, he stopped crying and turned to look up at her.
“Don’t you even care?” he demanded almost angrily.
“Why should I?”
“Because she’s your mother, too!”
Isis opened her mouth to reply but never got the chance to because at that moment, she felt a pull, a tug in her mind that made it feel like her cranium had been split open. A blinding pain that made her squeeze her eyelids shut and call out. She fell backwards on the ground, away from the boy that was claiming to be her brother, away from the dead woman that was supposedly her mother.
Her head pounded with unbearable pain and she screamed, clutching at her hair, pleading for it to stop. She felt a sharp pain bite at her bottom lip, with a finger she felt the inside of her mouth, her teeth were sharp and needle pointy, and throbbing to the point where it had begun to hurt.
Then, she heard a voice. A deep seductive voice inside of her head, it was barely a whisper but she knew it was there. She looked around frantically, sure she couldn’t be imagining it because the boy—her brother—looked just as confused as she felt.
He came out of the shadows behind the boy. He was shirtless, his feet bare, the only thing covering the lower part of his body was a piece of cloth, tied at his waist. Isis could tell that this was no man, no ordinary human. His hair was long and dark and set in wild disarray around his shoulders; his eyes were consumed with red, much like she felt hers were at that moment. His chest was covered in nothing but muscle, as were his arms and his legs. Isis felt instant familiarity.
“Isis,” the man purred. His voice stopped the pain but there was still a slight throbbing in her temples, the feel that she wanted to be close to him. She was drawn to him and she wasn’t sure why. “Isis, what are you doing?”
Isis looked at the man, then back at the woman and the boy. But her brother didn’t meet her gaze; he had turned around to stare at the man. She could only imagine his expression; shock and awe and wonder, but there was also fear, for this man emanated power.
“I do not understand,” Isis whispered.
The man cocked an eyebrow then smiled, revealing pink stained pointed teeth, similar to hers. This man was like her, she concluded. He said, “You will understand soon enough. Are you hungry, Isis?”
She was about to tell him no, she had eaten earlier, but stopped herself. There was an emptiness inside of her stomach, not quite full but not hungry. As if something were missing and she wasn’t sure what it was. She thought of the blood against her lips and her mouth instantly watered. She looked up at the man. “Yes, I am.”
He nodded in understanding. “Yes, I would imagine so.” Then, he looked at the boy. “So, eat,” he commanded, nodding at the boy.
This time, the child did meet her gaze. His eyes were wide with panic and confusion. Isis shook her head. She couldn’t hurt him. He was her brother, even though she couldn’t really remember him. She couldn’t eat him.
The man frowned. “If you don’t, you will die. Do you want to die, Isis? Do you want to die like your mother?”
“No,” she whispered, her voice weak with exhaustion and hunger.
“Then, eat!” He no longer looked happy. His thick eyebrows were pulled into a tight frown and he was pointing at the boy, who had begun to cry harder.
“I…I can’t…” Because Isis didn’t know how, and she didn’t want too.
The man snorted in disgust. “You will deny your true nature?” Then he looked at them both. “Or could it be, you just do not know how? Here, I will help you.” Then, he advanced on the boy, his sharp nails extended and cut the boy on the neck, a simple line across, that made a dark line of thick rich liquid fall from his neck.
The smell assaulted her nostrils and she couldn’t help it. She was hungry, she was thirsty, and she wanted to quench that thirst. She jumped on the child and sucked his blood. Decadent, euphoric taste exploded in her mouth. Had blood always tasted like this? Isis couldn’t get enough. She consumed, taking every last bit of it until his cries diminished into whimpers, until his whimpers diminished into faint breathing, until his breathing had stopped altogether and he died.
Her stomach still wasn’t satisfied though. She licked her lips and stood up on shaking knees, facing the man. Her skin felt like it was on fire, itching for more. She avoided looking at her little brother as revulsion clawed up her throat for what she’d done, and yet she still craved.
“And you are still hungry?” His eyes blinked red in a look of satisfaction.
Isis, sickened with herself, could only nod.
He smiled. “Good, very good. Come with me, Isis.” And he turned and began walking away.
At last, Isis found her voice. “Wait!” He stopped and half-turned. “Who are you?” She asked.
He smiled maniacally. “I am Caesareon.” He said. “But you may call me, ‘Master.’”
Isis awoke in a cold sweat. It was just a dream, she thought, only a dream. She attempted to sit up in bed, but found herself locked in place by someone. She turned and fought the urge to vomit. Caesareon was curled up next to her, his arm flung carelessly over her chest, pinning her down.
She stared at him for a moment even in sleep, he radiated danger and power. Judging by the way he barely moved, she guessed that it was light out. She thanked whatever gods existed for that. Natural Born vampires had a greater weakness when it came to sunlight. Sure, she’d burn up to a crisp too if she stood out in it, but at least she could stay awake during this time.
She moved his arm away from her and got up from the bed, surprised to find herself fully clothed in soft satin pajamas. She could barely remember what had happened, she had blocked out everything, or at least tried too. She looked down at Caesareon then around the room.
It was a big room, as big as the one she had in the Santiago mansion, but less decorated. This room looked more like a basement, with brick walls and torches hammered into them, lit by a slight fire. The ground was cold and hard and covered in various layers of dust. The only furniture in the room was the large bed, smack in the middle of the room that was covered with thin sheets.
Isis could pull the torches out of the wall, stab Caesareon through the heart, but actually kill him this time. She blended the idea over in her mind for a minute. He said he had werewolves and what about his vampire servants? They’d notice—thanks to that blasted mind link—that he was dead. Would they come after her then, trying to avenge their master? Or would they come out of their trance and thank her? Plus, Isis had no idea where she was; she didn’t want to take any giant risks.
Still, she thought bitterly, she wanted that bastard dead. She walked over to the wall where a torch was lit and gripped the black handle of it. As soon as her skin came in contact with it, she screamed. First it electrocuted her, and then burned into her skin. Isis let go of it immediately and stared down at her hands. They were swollen, red with blisters.
“Fuck!” she swore, closing her palms and wincing at the pain. Caesareon planned that, she knew. Quietly and carefully, she walked over to t
he thick wooden doors, gripping the handle and pulling it open. Maybe if she ran and found a weapon she could kill him once and for all. Suddenly, she didn’t care if his vampires got revenge on her. As long as Caesareon died, she didn’t care what happened to her. She just wanted him dead.
The door opened without resistance, Isis peeked her head out first, assessing the situation. The narrow hallways were dimly lit as well as abandoned. She stepped out, holding her breath and looking around. If she was going to be attacked, she didn’t want it to be a surprise.
After a minute of standing around, she began to move, using her survival instincts to find her way out of the underground place that Caesareon had led her too. She didn’t see any other doors on her way out, or any possible weapons hanging on the walls, not even a rock. At that point, she thought about snapping his neck, but his bones would heal. Not if she ripped it clean off of his head, though.
She stopped running and looked back in the direction from which she came. She wanted to go back and kill him, to end this misery once and for all, to save the people he was planning on hurting in the future. She had no other option but to do so. She ran back.
He was still sleeping, curled tightly against the plain sheets, his breathing even and slow. She walked over to him and stared. This was the vampire that had turned her, the one that had killed her mother, forced her to kill her younger brother, the one that had used her and mutilated her to no end. This wouldn’t stop until he was stopped. And she planned to stop him right now.
Isis reached out, placing her hands on either side of his neck, ready to crush it beneath her touch, when a growl sounded behind her. She turned slowly. A giant wolf was behind her, with a thick gray coat of hair, brown eyes and drool dripping from its gaping jaws.
She screamed and threw her hands up to protect herself as the wolf leaped towards her.
7
Esmeralda attempted calling Isis again but it sent her straight to voicemail each time. Annoyed, she threw the phone onto the coffee table and shook her head. Of course, it was daytime, so maybe she was asleep, as Antonio was now, and had just turned her phone off and there was nothing to worry about.
My Master Page 4