My Master

by Aleera Anaya Ceres

  “Another thing, please don’t be sad that you can’t see the sun. You’re a vampire; you’ll turn to ashes, so it’s best if you just avoid it completely. Don’t be sad about it because, honestly, being a vampire has advantages: night vision, super senses, not to mention being a total bad ass.”

  “Antonio, watch your language around my child.”

  Antonio smiled and said one last thing to his child before standing up, “I can’t wait to hold you.” He stood and pulled Ezzy into his arms, holding her close to him. If he could, he would hold her there forever, relishing in that familiar smell; the smell of home and familiarity and love, always love.

  “Antonio,” Ezzy whispered.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m really happy.”

  He smiled and brought her in for a kiss. “I’m happy too,” he mumbled against her lips.

  “Okay, gag. If you guys are gonna make out get a room first. Particularly one that isn’t occupied with my sleeping corpse, please.”

  Antonio turned and his heart danced wildly in his chest. Isis was sitting up, rubbing her eyes. Ezzy called out her name and ran to her bedside and threw her arms around her neck. Isis closed her eyes and held on to Ezzy.

  “Glad to have you back.” Antonio smiled, making his way to the other side of the bed.

  Isis released Ezzy but held her hand close. “I feel like shit,” Isis complained. “Did I roll around on pointy knives?”

  Ezzy gave her a worried look. “Isis, don’t you remember?”

  Isis laughed, a dry throaty sound. “I remember enough,” she said bitterly. “Please tell me Caesareon’s dead and will stay that way forever?”

  Antonio nodded. “You killed him. The FBSI took his body and burned it, and they killed all of his little followers.”

  Isis blinked. “All of them?”

  Antonio nodded.

  “What about Demetria?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

  “Kinda small, looks like an evil teenager. Black short hair. She’s a moody Russian bitch.”

  Ezzy shot Antonio a look, an uncomfortable look. “Terrance killed her…” she started.

  Isis’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline.

  “Right after Ezzy beat the crap out of her.” Antonio added with pride. Pride and anger. It was stupid and reckless.

  “You did what, now?” Isis stared at Ezzy with her mouth hanging open.

  Ezzy shrugged. “She made me mad. And she almost killed agent Phillipe.”

  Isis looked at her incredulously. “You did what now?”

  Antonio laughed at her reaction because, yes, it was hard to believe that Ezzy would have taken on a vampire like that—in her condition—and survive.

  “Demetria is dead,” Isis whispered.

  Antonio gripped her hand. “It’s over, Isis. It’s over.” But when their eyes met, the lies on his mouth tasted bitter. Caesareon and Demetria may have been dead, but they would still be there to haunt her nightmares.

  No, he realized.

  This was far from being over.

  Isis detested being fussed over. She hated having to lie in a hospital bed when Esmeralda was the one who needed rest. She had been in the hospital for weeks and she still hadn’t gotten her check-up.

  It was still surprising that Ezzy was pregnant. She felt she wouldn’t get used to her stomach popping out all over the place. But, she thought with amusement, it was about damn time. She just wondered if they were ever going to get married. They were practically married already anyway. If they were to get married Isis thought it’d only be a waste of time, slapping a government label on what they shared.

  Isis smiled wryly to herself, marveling at the normalcy her thoughts had taken. It made her happy to know that her life could get back on track without looking over her shoulder at every turn. Now, all she had to worry about were the nightmares but eventually even those would fade.

  Esmeralda rubbed the small of her back and smiled at Isis with her full teeth, which, Isis noted, were looking a little pointy.

  When human women were pregnant with vampires it was as if they became one. The vampire shared its powers with the mother. She had to admit that Ezzy looked like a badass. Not to mention she was vibrant with energy. That, and moody.

  “Taking care of a vampire is hard work…” Esmeralda sighed.

  Isis raised an eyebrow. “Well soo-rry to be such a nuisance…”

  At this, Esmeralda laughed. “Not you. I mean this little rascal inside of me. It’s like she’s having a dance party inside of me.”

  “How do you even know it’s a girl? It’s not like you’ve gotten checked up or anything. Don’t doctors give out pills and vitamins to make you feel better or something?”

  Esmeralda shrugged and plopped herself down onto a chair with a smile still on her face. “I suppose. Maria said she was going to bring someone—a healer or something that’ll make me special tea.”

  “Yes, well, I’ll be happy when I can get out of this hospital. So if this healer guy can whip up a concoction that’ll teleport me the hell out of here I’d be forever grateful.”

  “You can just get up and leave, you know. What’s holding you back?” Her suggestion was daring, laced with mischief.

  Isis shot a tentative look around at the wires hanging from the machines, running through her veins. She hardly felt it necessary but apparently her stupid doctor did. With a groan, she pulled the needles from her arms and tossed them to the side. She hopped out of bed and pulled the ugly papery hospital gown from her body and threw it to the floor. Isis stood butt naked in her hospital room, causing Ezzy to blush then giggle, hopping to her feet.

  “I assume we’re leaving now?”

  Isis gave a brisk nod just as the door opened and in walked Antonio, Maria and a strange girl. Antonio took one look at Isis and raised his eyebrows. “Doth mine eyes deceive me? Or have I died and gone to heaven?”

  Isis put her hands on her hips, unembarrassed as she glared at Antonio, Maria and the amused looking girl.

  “Dear lord, Isis, get some clothes on.” Maria’s cheeks flushed red and she turned her head in a different direction.

  “No, Isis, you look fine.” Antonio smiled a teasing gleam in his eye. Isis had no chance to reply because Ezzy already bounded over and threw the hospital blanket about Isis’s shoulders. Then she rounded on Antonio.

  “Hitting on our friend in front of me, Antonio? I suppose you would since she has gorgeous, voluptuous curves that she’s not afraid to flaunt while all I’ve got is a fat stomach. I mean, why not? Go for it since you’re not attracted to me anymore.”

  Isis couldn’t see her face, but she could tell that Ezzy was crying. That’s what I mean about moody, Isis thought with a little amusement. She didn’t even have to be a mind reader to know what Antonio was thinking.

  “Oh, shit.” He ran to Ezzy and cradled her in his arms, murmuring god-knows-what to her.

  Isis took the opportunity to look at the newcomer; she was about Maria’s height, a little taller, with auburn curls spilling out and over her shoulders from underneath a black fedora. She wore a dark green jacket and a simple shirt and she had a long colorful flowing dress on with small brown heeled boots underneath. Her face was dark. Not that natural color like Antonio’s or Isis’s, but the kind that looked as though she had worked outside often. There were freckles along her nose and cheekbones, her eyes were cat-like, slanted, regarding Ezzy with cool amusement.

  “Yeah, about those mood swings…” Maria started. “Guys, this is Anya, here to make that healing potion thing for Esmeralda.” The woman—Anya—inclined her head but said nothing. Isis felt intrigued.

  Esmeralda sniffled. “She’s not a vampire, or a wolf. What is she?”

  “I am a witch.” Anya replied. She had a Dracula-type accent.

  “Witch?” Esmeralda narrowed her eyes. “I thought witches weren’t real.”

  Anya smirked. “We are very much real, though we mostly reside on the far side of R
omania, in covens.”

  Isis smiled. She had never met a witch before, though she knew they were hardly myth as everyone thought they were. And that’s what her accent was—Romanian.

  “So what’s this potion stuff you’re talking about?”

  Anya opened her mouth to say something but in that moment, Ezzy keeled over, grabbing hold of her stomach.

  “Ezzy, what’s wrong?!” Antonio gripped her by the shoulders.

  There was a sound, like water splashing on to the ground. They all sniffed the air and then looked down at the floor. Her water had broken.

  26

  Esmeralda screamed.

  Antonio wanted to scream too—needed to, because all of the pain she felt was projected into him, with a clear message from Ezzy. ‘If I’m going to suffer through this, then so will you.’

  So suffer he did at first. Feeling her stomach pains like his own but sensing all of his own emotions as well. Worried, because this was her first pregnancy and it wasn’t going to be easy, with a vampire child and all. Scared, because, well, damn it, why was she in so much pain? And anxious that he would be holding his child in his arms soon enough.

  He had picked Ezzy up, as gently as he could and took her to a doctor, with his sister, Anya, and Isis trailing behind him.

  He wanted to talk Ezzy through it, but he was as panicked as she was and had no idea what to say, so he just breathed with her and tried to project happy thoughts into her mind. It didn’t seem to work with the useless images until he started projecting his memories of her parents into her brain. He found a doctor soon and followed the man to the delivery room.

  “Did you just call me fat?”

  “No—”

  “I am not fat!”

  He opened his mind to her and showed her the first time he ever met Katheryn back in Madrid, the way Ignacio had ditched his best friend to walk her back to her hotel; Katheryn, staring through a microscope, in a white lab coat; Ignacio, his long delicate fingers moving across piano keys creating the most beautiful melody anyone had ever heard.

  “I love her, Antonio,” Ignacio paced the floor, running his hand through his hair as he talked about Katheryn. The way Ignacio ran to America for Katheryn—to save her. And, finally, he projected images of Antonio and Ezzy. The way he saw her, all fire and water—perfect contrasts. An innocent goddess wrapped in sweet passion. He loved her so much.

  She relaxed in his arms.

  “Just lay her here,” the doctor gestured to one of the beds. He set her down and the doctor began to work.

  Isis waited outside in anticipation, the damned doctors had kicked the excess amount of people outside and it was driving her crazy and even worse when she could hear Ezzy’s screams out in the hallway. It sounded as though her best friend was in excruciating pain and that made Isis shudder to her core.

  She supposed nothing was as bad as childbirth. It made Isis glad that she wasn’t the pregnant one. Who wanted children anyway? All of that pain to have a squalling brat for eighteen years. Babies were nothing but a nuisance, but she couldn’t deny that she was happy for Esmeralda and Antonio. Although she was pretty worried about the time it took for her to deliver the brat.

  She held the sheet tighter to her chest and worried at her bottom lip. “Are you okay?” a voice asked from in front of her. She looked up and saw Anya standing before her, holding a steaming cup in her hands. She looked rather cute, Isis mused, her auburn curved eyebrows pulled together with worry.

  Isis shrugged. Normally she would have replied ‘yes’ quite instantly. “Not really,” she admitted wryly.

  Anya frowned and handed Isis the steaming cup. She took it and glanced down at the thick crimson liquid in the Styrofoam cup. She smiled and took a tentative sip. The liquid was warm down her throat and comforting.

  “I’ve heard your tale spoken.” Anya sat next to Isis and studied her. Her fedora still sat crookedly on top of her head, auburn hair in curls over her shoulders.

  Isis eyed her suspiciously. “Did Maria tell you?”

  She looked around for the girl but Maria was nowhere in sight. She had probably gone to the cafeteria with her father, who had shown up quite some time after Esmeralda’s water broke, to get something to eat.

  Anya shook her head. “I’ve read of the battle in the papers. Your whole story, however, I know not all of it.” Her heated gaze went over Isis. “Talking usually helps, I find.”

  Isis took another sip of her synthetic blood. “There are some things that Caesareon told me that I don’t understand,” she found herself saying. She didn’t know why she was telling this stranger her most intimate thoughts when she hadn’t even told her own friends. Perhaps it was because Anya intrigued her, though heaven could only knew why.

  “What things?” Anya pressed.

  Isis shrugged. “It was all nonsense to me at first, if I’m honest. He had mentioned a speech someone gave to him once,” she said, recalling his words like knives piercing every inch of her insides. “I told him I didn’t care, and he said that he thought I would care about the words of my own flesh.” She paused and Anya said nothing. “I think he meant to say ‘flesh and blood’ but I killed him before he finished. I think he was talking about my brother, but…” She choked on a breath. “My brother is dead.” She practically sobbed and then drank a mouthful of the blood as if it could keep her from crying.

  “I think it was only a means to torture me further. It’s his way, you see.” She turned to Anya and saw that she was focused on her every word. “And he did, because it got me to thinking: is my brother truly dead? And I find myself answering in a second. Yes, yes he is. Even in death it seems that my Master still plays with my thoughts. My body is not my own and I don’t think it ever will be.”

  Then, Anya touched a hand to Isis’s shoulder and the contact sent heat and sizzles and electricity shooting through her every nerve, and she was sure that Anya felt it too because she heard her gasp, though she didn’t remove her hand. They simply stared at each other a moment and Isis felt emotion surge through her, emotions that she couldn’t quite describe.

  “The past is not easily erasable,” Anya offered, lowering her hand to her own lap. “I know this personally…”

  Isis sighed, trying to shake off the feeling of static in her system. “But one thing troubles me deeply,” she said, fretting at her lip again.

  “And what might that be?”

  “Caesareon was one of the oldest vampires in the world. Surely his feelings for humans hadn’t developed overnight. If he had hated them for so long, why is it that he never attacked years ago? Why wait till now? And why wait to find me?”

  Anya thought for a moment. “Perhaps he saw you merely as a means to an end.”

  Isis stared at her. “What do you mean?”

  Anya shrugged. “You look at this equation and see only yourself as his greatest treasure but, what if you’re wrong? He liked to play games and, well, what if you were only a pawn in his game of chess? And we all know that pawns aren’t the most important pieces in that game.”

  “So…” Isis began, “so do you believe that he has more armies? More than just what the FBSI found and destroyed?”

  Anya shrugged. “I know not what to believe, it is merely a theory anyway. I believe in facts and logic, and the fact is that he is dead and for now you can rest in peace.”

  Isis frowned. “That’s another thing,” she said. “It’s so weird that he was weakened easily. I’m sure my punches couldn’t have hurt him that bad, right?”

  Anya tapped her chin with two fingers. “Doesn’t your kind feel shared pain?”

  “Only if you have a vampire mate but—”

  “Then maybe he was feeling his mate’s pain and that’s what weakened him.”

  Isis snorted, the idea sounding completely ridiculous. Caesareon with a vampire mate? It didn’t seem too likely. “I doubt he had a mate, the man was too cold for such things.”

  She shrugged. “If he was as strong as you say he
was then that is the only reasonable explanation I can think of. Of course, I know very little of vampire mates except that they feel what their partner feels, so it was just a suggestion.”

  Isis thought about it for a moment. While she couldn’t really see Caesareon having a mate the possibility was still there. And the most probable mate would have been Demetria.

  Esmeralda said she had hit Demetria’s head against the concrete. Hadn’t Isis done the same thing to Caesareon? And hadn’t a lot of blood been produced from his injury? Had it been too much blood for such a little blow? Not to mention that, as Isis was killing him, he called out Demetria’s name and, Ezzy said, that Demetria had called out Caesareon’s name. Maybe they had died at the same time? Whatever the case, it was over with now and Isis tried not to fret over it.

  “Thanks for listening.” She looked up into Anya’s eyes and, for the first time, noticed that they were the bright color of grass, flecked with brown, blue and, to her surprise, silver.

  Anya touched a hand to Isis again and the sparks were back, fire entering her veins and piercing behind her eyelids. She gasped in amazement. What the hell? She wondered incredulously, but she was fascinated as well. What was this?

  She had been told one time that when a vampire finds their Soul Mate that they know automatically because the first time they touch it’s like an icy fiery sensation all at once over the body for both parties. Is this what they meant?

  The thought had Isis holding Anya’s gaze.

  And then a baby’s cries interrupted her thoughts.

  Isis jerked her head to Ezzy’s hospital door and stood up abruptly. “Her baby’s been born!” She walked towards the room. At the last minute she stopped and turned around. “Are you coming?” she asked.

  Anya shook her head, remaining seated. “It is not my place, but I shall wait for you here.”

  Isis gave a brisk nod and went inside, all thoughts of Caesareon and Demetria and armies and wars pushed from her mind as she walked through that door. The smell of new life hit her; the cries had diminished into soft whimpers, causing her to smile to herself. No, there would be no need to fret much over the past when her family was right here, right under her nose.