“What if this is something on a larger scale? Wouldn’t it be best to get help sooner rather than later?”
“Yes, that would be the case, if Damien were correct, and I don’t trust him enough to take his word on this matter.”
“I don’t know.” Ezzy felt uncertain. “He seemed pretty convincing.”
“Of course he did, Ez,” Antonio snapped in annoyance. “He’s a liar, and that’s what liars do…they lie. And he is an expert at lying.”
Esmeralda stopped walking and Antonio stopped walking with her. She turned him to face her, her head just reaching his chest; she looked up at him, frowning. Apparently a few punches from her parents’ spirits hadn’t done him any good. He was still acting like a big old jerk.
“Stop,” she demanded stern and upset. “Stop acting like that. I know you’re mad, and I know what you’re mad about. I’ve seen your thoughts, and I’ve seen the experience you had with your mother.” His eyes widened but he just stared. “But just because you’re angry at yourself for killing Damien stop taking it out on me. I never did anything wrong and just in case you’ve forgotten, Damien tried to kill me and change me and he tried to kill you, too! Twice! You saved my life; you were willing to go to such extremes for love, Antonio. You seem to be forgetting about what really matters between us.”
Antonio just stared at her and suddenly, he looked very, very sad, and old. He shook his head back and forth, his curls bouncing against his forehead. “It’s childish to assume that love conquers all, Ezzy. Did you ever stop and think that I loved my brother, too? He isn’t just some thing that can be replaced. He was my twin, Esmeralda!” He paused when his voice rose to a shout, swallowed then turned his head to the side. “Love isn’t the only thing that’s important, Ezzy. And every time I look into a mirror, I can only see ‘that vampire that killed his brother,’ and I ask myself if I’m even worth living.”
And with that last strained word, he walked away from Ez, yet again, leaving her to follow at his heels, tears falling down her cheeks.
“So, you haven’t seen Isis at all?” Antonio asked Maria. She shook her head, her long black curls bobbing around her flushed cheeks.
“Not for a while now, actually.” Maria said, still flushing deeply. Antonio ignored it and tried not to be mad. When they had gotten to Santiago Mansion he had gone straight to Maria’s room and had obviously interrupted an intimate moment with her and some guy that he didn’t know. The guy had left the room, letting Antonio and Esmeralda have a moment with Maria.
“When was the last time you saw her?” Esmeralda asked, her voice soft, a whisper, barely audible. Her eyes were swollen and red, proof that she had been crying, though Antonio ignored it. He knew when he walked away from her that she had been hurting but he couldn’t find the energy to comfort her. He was too focused on Isis and getting these problems over with.
Maria eyed her thoughtfully, obviously she knew that Ezzy had been crying but she didn’t ask, knowing that it was none of her business. “About a week ago,” Maria said, eyes thoughtful. “We went out for lunch that night and then the next day, she seemed kind of distracted; almost freaked out. She said she had things to do and wouldn’t be able to hang out for a while.”
Antonio thought for a moment. It sounded an awful lot like what she had told Esmeralda when she called them on the phone. In fact, it was the exact same phrasing. Something was definitely going on. He ran a hand across his face.
“What’s going on?” Maria asked, looking from Antonio to Ezzy, a questioning look in her eyes. “Is something wrong with Isis or something? I’m sure she’s just busy working, like she said.”
Antonio shook his head. “It’s more than that…I think she’s missing.”
Maria raised an eyebrow. “I highly doubt she’s missing. I bet she’s just taking a vacation and doesn’t want to be bothered.”
“I’m telling you, it’s more than that!” Antonio regretted snapping like that. Maria’s face went from light to angry in almost a flash and she opened her mouth to yell at him. He had almost forgotten who he was talking to.
She wasn’t like Ezzy, who just took what he dished out with patience and tried to talk to him. This was his sister, and if he yelled at her he could expect full hell-fire to come back at him.
“Maria,” Esmeralda’s soft voice intercepted before the siblings could start arguing. “You don’t happen to know what it was that Isis was working on, do you? Assuming she was working on something…”
Maria tapped her forefinger to her chin and looked up at the ceiling. “Hmm, I don’t remember much. She didn’t say anything specifically…”
Antonio tried to have patience with his sister. Her mind was obviously somewhere else, and she had no clue what was going on. He calmed down a little bit by taking deep breaths. Think, Maria, think, he thought.
Esmeralda sighed. “I guess that keeps us in square one.” She shook her head. “We’re going to have to dig deeper if we want to put these puzzle pieces together.”
“That’s it!” Maria snapped her fingers, her face animating excitedly. “I remember after she told me that I had asked her how much time it was going to take for her to finish working because there was this totally awesome jazz band coming into town and I could totally get us tickets because I know the guy that works in lighting and—”
“Maria,” Antonio warned. He didn’t want her to get off of the subject.
“Oh, right, sorry, anyway, she told me: ‘I need as much time as possible if I’m going to be digging deep into the roots of the past…’ or something like that. I only just remembered because of what you said, actually, Ezzy!” She smiled widely at Esmeralda, whose cheeks colored pink. “I’m not sure if that’s enough to go on, though.” She frowned and looked at her brother.
“It’s a start,” he said simply. “Thank you.”
“But, what does that mean?” Esmeralda scratched her head. “‘Digging deep into the roots of my past…?’”
“Well, she’s a vampire,” Maria offered. “And she’s been alive a long ass time, so maybe she’s revisiting where she was born when she was human. I know a lot of vampires who think about their old life. Maybe she hit one of those phases.” Maria shrugged.
Esmeralda disagreed. “I don’t think so. I know that when Isis was human she lived in Egypt, it’s her home land, I think. But other than that what else do we know about Isis’s past? She never talks about before she was changed, and once when I asked her if she’d ever go back to Egypt she said she’d rather die.”
Antonio had to agree with that. If Isis had a bad human life, he doubted she would want to go back somewhere that brought up bad memories. Besides, Egypt was a big place, what were they supposed to do? Search every inch of it until they found her?
“What if she didn’t mean anything about her human life? Like, what if she wanted to look for something that related to the times when she lived in the renaissance era? She was a servant in London, back then, you know,” Ezzy wondered aloud.
“She’s been a lot of things in her lifetime! We can’t possibly know about all of them, and much less find out anything about her past!” Antonio was growing more frustrated with each passing minute.
He was worried about Isis and wanted to find her but how could he when he knew very little about her. The shock of the truth made his head spin. He had been good friends with her for a long time, but had never bothered to ask her about her life. He realized what an awful friend he was and instant guilt overpowered him.
Esmeralda turned to Maria. “Doesn’t your dad keep files on everyone in the coven? I know he doesn’t let just anybody in. He’s sure to have information about her past life somewhere.”
Antonio felt the sudden urge to run up and kiss Esmeralda. Why didn’t I think of that? he wondered but washed the thought quickly away. Ezzy was asking all of the right questions and he couldn’t help but feel proud of his girl. His lips tugged up into a smile.
“Yeah, he has files on everyone in the co
ven.” Uncertainty dripped out of Maria’s mouth. “But they’re all at Santiago Enterprises…”
Antonio let out a string of profanities. Of course, it was typical that something he needed that was actually of importance would be at the place he despised the most. It wasn’t only the fact that his father was trying to get him involved in the business, but that was the building where it happened, where he had slit his brother’s throat and killed him.
Antonio slumped in his chair. Esmeralda eyed him thoughtfully for a fraction of a second then frowned. “It seems like we’re going to Santiago Enterprises.”
10
The ointment had worked wonders for Isis’s face. Caesareon himself had applied it to the wounds on her cheeks, ever so gently; rubbing it first on his two fingers then applying it in slow circular motions on her cheeks, carefully, like she could break at his touch. The way he did it made Isis think that he was only trying to be nice in order to gain her favor, but deep down she knew that it was all just a façade that he was putting up in the heat of the moment. He could care less about whether she liked him or hated him. Her being there was proof enough of that.
As soon as the ointment was applied, the burning sting had receded into a dull throb, crusting over completely. It had fallen off, leaving her with nothing but a small pink scar, so thin that one might have assumed she was scratched in the face by a cat.
Caesareon had wiped his fingers off on a damp towel and grabbed her face, twisting it left and right like one would a head of cabbage at a supermarket. After a moment, he smiled lightly. “All done. Now it’s time for you to bathe.”
He called in one of his vampire servants to take her away to another room, where a bath would be drawn for her. He made her werewolf attacker—still in wolf form—escort her as well. It seemed he still didn’t trust her, and that was fine by her. She didn’t want to make this easy for him; she wanted to let him know that she would put up a fight if only that meant that she could get away from him.
But as they escorted her down various hallways and many turns in different directions, she felt exhausted. She hadn’t gotten much sleep and she knew that if she tried to put up a fight she wouldn’t last two minutes, so she followed until the vampire servant girl opened a wooden door and pushed it open, gesturing Isis inside.
The room was much like Caesareon’s, with black metal torches digging into the clammy dirt walls, only this room was decorated differently; there was a full length mirror shoved into a corner, decorated with rubies and diamonds. A Japanese screen was in the middle of the room; behind it was a tub, steaming with hot water. It made Isis wonder if they had plumbing.
She shook the thought off and stepped deeper into the room, there was a table with purple candles that were lit, wax dripping down the sides and pooling onto the chipped wood, and a closet.
“You must bathe now,” the vampire said blankly. “Bathe now and someone will come and help you dress.” She left, closing the door behind her. Isis heard her slip a key into the keyhole and twist it to lock. The key wouldn’t hold her back; she knew that Caesareon had placed a guard on the other side.
Sighing and with no other choice, Isis pulled off her jeans and shirt, tossing them to the floor. She climbed into the tub, the hot water prickling against her skin. Slowly and methodically, she wiped away the dirt and grime from her body and her hair.
After finishing, Isis stood up and stepped out, letting the water fall from her body and onto the ground. She didn’t see a towel anywhere so she just stood awkwardly in the middle of the room when her reflection caught her eye. Walking close to the mirror, she took in her form; tall and fully curved in all of the right places. Her breasts were perfectly round and firm, as were her thighs and her wide hips. Isis had always been proud of her figure, it was a figure that made men swoon and wish for more—which, mostly, she ignored—but now, looking at herself, seemed odd.
She looked different from how she used to. Her long straight black hair hung in limp knots over her shoulders, her soft eyes were no longer their usual color, but were rimmed red with hunger. There were ugly purple bags underneath her eyes, her otherwise dark skin had grown pale, and her veins had blackened, looking like ink on paper.
A soft laugh sounded behind Isis. Well, not exactly a laugh, she thought, more like a cackle. She turned to the door, where a vampire woman had walked through, shutting it behind her and placing an iron key inside of her breasts.
Isis recognized her immediately; she had seen her many times before, always flanked behind Caesareon, panting after him like a puppy with no owner.
The candlelight glow cast flickering shadows across her white skin. Her hair was black but cut in a short bob around her face. Bangs curled just above her perfectly clipped eyebrows and her eyes flashed red. The vampire’s lips were that same red, not makeup—Isis knew—but something else, something that was thick and rich and smelt tangy and sour, but delicious all the same. Blood.
“And I never understood why the Master chose you as a favorite.” She smiled, the blood on her lips dripping down her chin. She made no move to wipe it off, even as it dripped onto the front of her clothes.
Isis wouldn’t exactly call them clothes, it looked more like a clear white mosquito net draped around her body and tied with fancy rope. Despite her horrid dress, the vampire was beautiful, as vampires were supposed to be. She was tall and had curves just as full as Isis’s were and when she spoke, a slight Russian accent slipped through.
Isis shrugged. “I’ve been asking myself the same question for years…”
“Hello, Isis.” The way she said this—it was like a secret caress and a threat all at the same time.
“Hello, Demetria.”
Demetria licked her lips, the blood staining her teeth a pale pink color, and smiled devilishly. “I would have been here sooner,” she said, “but I wanted to stop by for a snack on the way and my dinner was being difficult.” She crossed the room without further preamble to the closet and, throwing the double doors open, she began pulling out clothes at random, throwing them to the floor carelessly behind her.
“Still working for Caesareon, I see. What happened? Waitresses get better pay than this, you know.” Isis leaned her lower back against the edge of the table, gripping the ends to keep herself steady. The comment made Demetria go stiff. She turned around, one side of her lip pulled up to her gums in a snarl.
“The Master,” she emphasized, “needs someone trustworthy, and since you obviously do not care for the honor that has been done onto you, the Master has chosen me as his second in command.” She smiled at this last part, her eyes going wide with an eerie glow, as if the statement were supposed to impress Isis or—god forbid—make her jealous. She shrugged.
“If you’re his second in command, then why am I here?” Isis asked. She knew that she was only waving a piece of raw meat in front of a starving wild tiger, but she couldn’t help herself. Even after years, Demetria still pissed her off. Besides, she knew that Caesareon had lied to Demetria, only to keep her happy and focused by making her his second in command. That job had always belonged to Isis—though the world knew she didn’t want it—and he had tried filling her place while she was gone. Demetria, being his second favorite, seemed like the perfect choice, but now that Isis was back and under his control, he could have thrown her away like yesterday’s garbage.
“The Master says he needs you in order to set an example among the troops.” She turned back to the closet and threw more clothes out. “He says it’s to show them that they shouldn’t ever run away from him, because if they do, he will find them. What’s his is his. He plans to execute you in front of them, also to set an example.”
Isis raised a questioning brow, though Demetria couldn’t see it, and then snorted—loudly. “Is that the bullshit he’s feeding you? Telling you that I’m some sort of child that misbehaved and now I get a timeout? You’re an idiot—”
Demetria turned around and parted her lips, hissing at Isis in that predatory wa
y that made her look everything like the vampire she was—a classical vampire—the kind that scared children at night. “The Master told me so!” she snarled. “It must be true! And I won’t have you taint his words with your lies!”
“Oh, please, Demetria, you know me, and you know I’ve never told anything but the truth. Caesareon is lying, he’s using you, and once he’s done with you he’ll throw you to the wolves. He’s not going to have me executed in front of everyone; he needs me to rule his armies. You were never his second in command, I was.” Isis realized she was gripping the edge of the table with death-like force, almost enough to break it off, so she loosened her grip and watched Demetria’s reaction.
Demetria laughed long and loud and it made Isis stare at her questioningly. “Isis, but you are a fool,” she said. “You always thought that you knew just what the Master was thinking, always thought that he was telling you the truth.” Isis blinked at her. “But you will believe anything he says, won’t you? You’re the idiot—not me. I’m not the one he lied to—” She smiled. “It was you.” She threw something at Isis’s feet—she didn’t look down to see what it was, she was staring at Demetria in the face—then closed the closet doors behind her. “Make sure you wear that tonight,” she said. “The Master wants you to look pretty for your execution.” And she walked out of the room, locking the door behind her, only her laughter echoing against the dirt walls of the room.
Swallowing the fear in her throat, Isis bent down and picked up what Demetria had thrown at her. It was a dress. Egyptian wear; a nice white cloth that tied around the waist, embroidered in black and gold silk around the hemlines. There was a matching top, too, that looked more like a bra than anything else. Isis sighed in frustration. For some reason, Caesareon liked to remind her of her past life, as if she could ever forget. She assumed it was his way of telling her that he was in control here, and not her. That he could do anything to her, anything that he wanted and there was not a thing she could do about it.
My Master Page 7