A Secret Baby for the Vampire

by Wylder, Jasmine

  Melancholy for what? He laughed to himself but the chuckle was superficial. There was a desire in Cozul, a hunger which had nothing to do with blood or lust. He had never openly spoken with anyone about it, knowing that it was likely an affect of his mortal genes. Yet he also had never heard his peers speaking of a yearning despite the fact they were just as mortal as him. The others were content living their sheltered, privileged lives, only venturing out of the security of their bubbles when summoned by the council for donors. While the others loathed to leave the comfort of their suites, worried they would be missing an enticing episode of their favorite live streaming on the internet, Cozul relished the opportunity to travel. He felt as if it afforded him the opportunity to quench the strange yen which seemed to grow in his bones. It did not. It had always been there and as the years passed, he often wondered if it would ever go away.

  It has been here for a hundred years. It will always be a part of me.

  Chapter Two

  Her sultry voice pierced through the smoky joint, touching each corner of the room, filling the space from the floor to ceiling. Her tones reached all the high and low pitches, an impressive display of octave range but she barely noticed the looks of adulation pouring in her direction from the beautifully dressed crowd. She was lost in her songs, consumed by the feeling which overcame her whenever she stepped onto the stage night after night.

  Nira had been the feature act at High Stakes Nightclub for two months, her contract quickly being extended after her first two shows. No one could get enough of the voluptuous woman’s tireless vocals and the manager had given the customers what they demanded; more of the beautiful singer.

  It was as if Nira’s dreams had finally come true, signing that contract. While she had performed in gigs across the crowded metropolis, she had never been offered her own feature.

  Finally, I can do what I have always wanted with my life, she had thought, as the ink flowed from the pen and onto the crisp contract.

  But that had been before.

  As Nira finished the sorrowful ballad she had been belting out, she slowly opened her eyes. As always, she had not been aware that her emerald green irises had become hidden behind her lids during her set. It was natural for her to fall into a trancelike state when performing and as the last note escaped her full mouth, she stared into the audience plaintively. A slight pause ensued as the group stared at Nira in awe. Suddenly a rush of applause and whistles flurried through the dark cabaret and Nira nodded her head in humble appreciation before stepping off the stage. That show was finished but she had one more set before the end of the night.

  The manager took her spot as the four piece band continued to play on stage, beaming as if he was the one who had tirelessly sang for forty-five minutes.

  “Ladies and gents, that was the sensual and sexy Nira, taking a break for now but she will return in a few minutes to fill your ears with more intoxicating sounds.”

  A scattering of claps followed Aldon’s announcement as Nira made her way through the maze of tables and toward the bar. Several patrons reached out to touch her hand as if wishing to make contact with a star in the making. Nira paused to speak with them, shyly accepting their praise before finally finding a seat before the bartender.

  “This one is on me,” the barkeep told her, winking, as Nira shook her head in protest.

  “You have bought me a drink every night,” she argued as he set a glass of white wine before her. “You can’t afford to keep buying me drinks.”

  The man whose name Nira had yet to learn smiled easily and winked before leaning in conspiratorially.

  “Between you and me, the house is really swallowing the bill on these. I just like to make myself look good.”

  Nira chuckled and looked about, the euphoric feeling which performing brought quickly dispersing. Her bright eyes grew sharper as she scanned the crowd.

  You must keep your eyes open, she told herself, taking a sip of the clear, cool liquid.

  The club was filled almost to capacity that Friday evening but Nira’s mind was less on the volume and more on the individuals themselves.

  The usual suspects milled about, chatting and laughing with one another but Nira knew that among them was the man she was seeking.

  Someone climbed upon the stool at her left but Nira barely noticed him, her luminous orbs expertly looking about.

  He is here. I know he is here, she told herself, small beads of sweat exploding on her forehead.

  “You have a beautiful voice,” the stranger on her left offered and she blinked, looking at the man. Immediately, an appreciative response sprung to her lips but it died there as she took in the incredibly handsome newcomer in her midst. Nira found herself tongue-tied as she took in his dark, attractive features. His blue eyes blazed as brightly as her own verdant irises, seeming to light up the intimate space between the them as he stared intently into her face. His mouth was a candied apple red, almost dripping at the corners with color, overshadowing his proud, jutting chin. His cheekbones were high, almost cat-like and Nira likened him to some sort of wildcat with his unruly mane of full but slick black hair. He wore all black, the leather jacket and button down shirt a stark contrast to his fair complexion.

  “Have you been singing here long?” he asked, sitting back against the bar, propping his head up in a fist as he regarded her. Nira shook her head.

  “No…well yes…” she faltered. He smirked slightly.

  “Somewhere in between?” he offered and Nira felt herself bristle slightly, sensing that he was mocking her.

  “I have a contract here for two months. I am at the tail end of it now,” she replied shortly, turning back to her drink. The man gestured at the bartender for another drink for the singer. Nira started to shake her head.

  “I don’t think I should have another one,” she told him as the bartender dropped another one before her.

  “Why not?” the dark haired man questioned. Nira regarded him for a moment, her well-trained ears picking up on an almost indiscernible accent.

  “Where are you from?” she asked. He smiled but the gesture did not meet his eyes.

  “Up North,” he replied. “You?”

  Nira opened her mouth to further question his accent but something about this being seemed to stop her.

  “I am from Legere,” she answered. “Do you know where that is?”

  He shook his head and Nira found herself chuckling.

  “Not many people do,” she replied easily. “It is the smallest big city in these parts. Thank you for the drink.”

  They toasted each other silently, their glasses touching.

  “Is that where you learned to sing so beautifully?” he asked after they had sipped, and Nira shrugged.

  “I have been singing since before I could talk I’ve been told,” she replied, sighing. He cocked his head in interest and Nira found herself rushing on, suddenly feeling the need to explain herself to this mysterious foreigner.

  “I suppose it has always been inherently in my blood to sing,” she told him. “Ever since I was a child, when things would go wrong, I would find myself opening my mouth and singing. Instantly, I would find that things didn’t feel so wrong when lyrics were spilling from my lips.” Nira sighed, putting the wine glass to her mouth, her bright eyes taking on a faraway look as the memories of her childhood overcame her.

  “Did much go wrong?” he asked, watching her intently. Nira blinked and smiled shortly.

  “My father was a musician. Travelled a lot, so my brothers and sisters and I didn’t see much of him. Drove my mother crazy,” she chuckled. “He finally drank himself to death when I was eleven.”

  The strangermade a commiserating noise.

  “That must have been very difficult for you. How many siblings do you have?”

  “Six,” she answered, her face puckering into an pained expression. Thinking of her family was rarely a pleasant experience.

  “Your mother must have been desolate in his absence. Th
at is many mouths to feed.” Nira found her jaw tightening at the mention of her mother.

  “She had her own method of coping,” Nira replied, her mind filtering toward cold, hungry nights she had spent in their leaky trailer in the bayous of Legere.

  “We found a way,” she answered shortly, suddenly wondering why she had felt the urge to disclose such intimate details of her life to a complete stranger. It was not like her to speak of her youth to anyone, let alone some man she had randomly encountered in a bar and she found herself embarrassed. She forced a smile and turned her head so he could not read her expression, but Nira was filled with the inexplicable sense that he could see into her soul.

  “Everyone has complaints about their childhood, don’t they?” she replied lightly. “I don’t suppose mine was better or worse than anyone else’s in the grand scheme of things. But it is nice to have an outlet for those times when you get to feeling overwhelmed. Do you have anything like that?”

  He began to nod slowly but there was an indecipherable expression in his eyes. She became aware that he seemed to be drinking her in and color crept into her full cheeks.

  “I have to get back on stage,” she told him. “My name is Nira. You are?”

  He extended his slender and took in her warm palm.

  “You may call me Cozul.”

  As she reclaimed her spot before the jazz band, Nira bowed modestly at the appreciative crowd, but for the first time since she could remember, she did not close her eyes as she started her set. Her jade orbs travelled the club, trying desperately not to rest on the inquisitive face of Cozul who watched her unwaveringly. She found herself constantly drawn back to him. Perhaps it was the way he did not alter his gaze from her face as if he was memorizing every aspect, or maybe it was the almost palpable wave of current flowing between them. Whatever the reason, Nira found herself increasingly nervous as the evening progressed. She missed her cues a few times but seamlessly fell back into the rhythm so the adoring customers did not notice. Yet she observed her own gaffes and tried to refocus her attention, lest she continue to make mistakes.

  You must stop looking at him. He is handsome, yes, but so are many men, she chided herself silently. Yet Nira knew it was not merely his smouldering good looks. There was something coursing between the two, something she could not identify, something beyond simple physical attraction.

  You don’t have room in your life for this, Nira told herself. She willed herself to close her eyes, blocking Cozul’s magnetism from her view.

  Focus on your singing. Your singing and your retribution. That is what you have time for, not a stranger who flatters you in the club. Men like him are a dime a dozen.

  Slowly, from behind her darkened lids, the intensity of Cozul’s gaze slowly lost its hold on her and a familiar trancelike sensation floated through her body as the melodies took hold of her once more. She fell into the blanketed world of jazz, forgetting the all-consuming being at the bar.

  She did not part her lashes again until the set had finished and the reverence of the crowd filled her ears. She smiled, flashing her white, even teeth to the fans. Nodding, she half turned and faced the bar, her beam fading.

  Cozul was gone and she was left with an unbearable loss.

  Chapter Three

  She is the one, Cozul told himself, staring at his reflection in the mirror of the paper littered bathroom. He could barely make out his fine features in the mirror but if anyone else had been in the small area, they would have easily seen his dark good looks peering back at them. Unlike the old world vampires, the hybrids had the ability to see themselves in glass but only in a haze. Photography resulted in blurred images, never quite capturing the essence of the immortals.

  Cozul had ordered the pilot to land in a field outside of the metropolis as always. He had chosen a different country than his last trip; he always did. One of the keys to claiming donors was discretion. While the Half-Truce gave the mortals peace of mind that the vampires would not venture past the Great Divider, it would not take the Universal Government long to figure out the pact had been breached if humans began disappearing in great numbers. He knew that in the northern part of the eastern hemisphere, the clans were much greedier, often claiming dozens of donors for each tribe, sometimes only weeks apart. The Southeastern Police System had been on high alert, upping their security at the Great Divider on those continents but no outright warning had been issued to the Northerners. The mortals were treading lightly, the Second World War still fresh enough on their minds. They did not want to throw out unfounded accusations lest it result in more carnage.

  Still, Cozul’s clan had been warned to maintain a low profile. Not that Cozul needed to be told. It was why they chose him; he could find a suitable donor and be gone within minutes of arriving in the South.

  As always, he had stepped from the jet and allowed himself to be drawn toward the location where he would find his next victim. The hunt had always been easy for him. He simply honed into his keen intuition and walked where it took him. From there, the women fell upon themselves to become his next victim.

  Perhaps I am more original vampire than mortal, Cozul often thought. He certainly had sharper instincts than some of his peers or perhaps he was merely more accepting of his inherent gifts. Whatever the reason, he never found the task of finding a decent donor to be a daunting one. As if guided by an unseen hand, he was led in the proper direction.

  Standing before the High Stakes, he had chuckled to himself.

  The irony is not lost on me, he thought, nodding curtly at the bouncer who gave him a suspicious look.

  “You have identification, friend?” the burly man asked and Cozul blinked, surprised at the question. He stared at the security guard, considering taking him as a donor but he quickly dismissed the thought. While he would suffice in size, taking this man would take the thrill of the chase from finding a donor. Cozul’s offerings to the council had always been female, full-figured women whom he had vetted properly before capturing them into their fate. A man simply would not do.

  “Did you hear me, buddy? Have you got ID?” the giant asked again. Cozul stared into his dark eyes, honing into his telepathy.

  I have already shown you my identification. You are drunk, he told the club’s employee. A look of confusion crossed over the man’s face and he stepped aside from the door.

  “Oh, uh, go on in,” he said uncomfortably, removing the red velvet rope to allow Cozul to enter. The vampire shifted his eyes and made his way into the club.

  Mortals are such easy prey, he thought to himself. I do not know how our kind did not submit them in the last World War without issue.

  He did not remind himself that their blood also flowed through his veins. It was a sore subject for him. He could see the way the elders looked at him and the others. It was the same way the hybrids regarded the Lessers. The elders saw his kind as weak and malleable. It shone in their eyes.

  Truly, they do not need us to come South. They simply wish for us to feel useful which is why they send us. There is nothing that we do that they cannot.

  Upon entry of the club, Cozul had not needed to look about the dimly lit establishment; she was front and center, captivating him with her mellifluous voice. Swallowing, Cozul slunk toward the back of the nightclub, his back pressed against the wall. He could not tear his eyes away from her face, the way her expressions contorted as if she could feel every note the way it was affecting him. Her body was round and ripe, her ample bosom rising rhythmically against the sequined material of her black dress. The fabric accented her wide hips, falling into a ripple of waves to the floor. The scooped neck showed her magnificent cleavage and a mass of auburn curls tenderly grazing her jugular. Even from the distance, Cozul could see the steady beat of her heart through her artery and his own pulse began to increase. He had no explanation for his reaction. She was merely another mark, nothing which he had not done dozens of times prior.

  She is perfect, he decided, willing her to look at hi
m but to his mild surprise, her eyes were clamped shut. She did not open them for the entire time she sang. Cozul was puzzled by this mortal; there was something about her which he had not seen in other women of the South. She exuded a melancholic confidence as if she was both vulnerable and impenetrable. As Cozul listened to her soulful singing, he found himself wondering what made her tick.

  I will discover her secrets soon enough but I will find that she is as dull as the others I have claimed.

  He waited for her to seat herself at the bar, carefully watching as she seemed to search for someone in the room. Confident that she was not being met by anyone, he approached. As he drew near, he found himself inhaling deeply, her saccharine scent filling his lungs.

  She will taste divine, he thought, stealthily slipping onto the barstool at her side. She did not immediately notice him, her mind clearly elsewhere. Again, Cozul found himself surprised. He was unaccustomed to being unseen, not when he was vying for a female’s attention. Whether in the estate with his clan or in the bowels of the South, he was easily the most attractive being in the room. Men and women alike would stop in midsentence to take in his powerful presence and were drawn to his side like magnets.

  Look at me, he willed her but she did not seem to hear his thoughts. Irritation sparked through Cozul and he focused harder, staring deadpan at the back of her luxuriant hair.

  Look at me!

  There was still no reaction and Cozul was dumbfounded. Her mind was all consumed with something he could not override.

  “You have a beautiful voice,” he said, slightly annoyed that he had to resort to such primitive methods for her attention. Yet it worked and she turned to join him in conversation as he bought her a drink.

  He started with the usual banter, pretending he was genuinely interested in her life, her childhood and gently prying the information he required from her subconscious. As she spoke, however, Cozul found himself enthralled by the movement of her lips, his blue eyes fixating on her emerald orbs. He could not stop his gaze from slipping along the fullness of her mouth toward the gentle pulsating of her sensual neck. He was listening to the wistfulness of her answers, sensing a troubled reluctance to speak of her past. When she excused herself to take her spot on stage once more, Cozul suddenly felt as if he was the one who had been probed.