Either Veronica had just made the best grilled cheese sandwich I had ever eaten or I was starving. It really didn’t matter because my stomach was full and I was ready to get some answers. I pushed back from the table and watched Veronica as she took my plate to the dishwasher and left the kitchen with the rest of the staff, leaving me alone with Tabitha and Solomon.
“Chey,” Tabitha started, using my nickname for the first time since this had all began.
It felt good and familiar, as if everything would turn out okay in the end. But, I wasn’t naïve enough to believe that anything would be okay again. She must have realized that I wasn’t listening because she stopped talking and put her hands on her hips in defiance.
“Look, Tabitha, you can’t expect me to just be okay. You can’t expect me to act normal; as if people weren’t after me.”
“You’re right and I’m sorry. It’s just that…,” her voice trailed off.
“It’s just what?”
Tabitha looked down at her hands because she was at a loss for words. For the first time in the last few days I saw that my friend was just as conflicted as I was, possibly more. What was it about my life that could have such an impact on her?
Solomon stepped up and cleared his throat.
“Tabitha. Cheyenne. They are waiting for us.”
Tabitha raised her head until our eyes met. There was pleading and apology in them as if she wanted to change what was about to happen. A chill spread through my body and I became paralyzed with fear. At that moment I had the sinking feeling that I would be safer in the hands of Raphael and the Grigor character. A feeling that was not at all comforting.
Solomon led the way to a set of double doors at the end of a very wide and elegant hallway. He lifted the ancient door knocker all of the way and let it fall. The resulting noise filled the hallway and made my ears ring, but the door was not immediately opened. For the next 5 minutes we continued to stand outside of the closed doors in silence. I looked from Tabitha to Solomon for any sign of annoyance or distress only to find them patiently waiting for our knock to be answered. After a few more moments, the double doors were pulled open my two very large men in black uniforms. Each of them bowed slightly in both Tabitha and my directions before they turned to stand with their backs against the wall.
Solomon stepped over the threshold before us and disappeared into the candlelit room. I followed Tabitha as she walked at a steady pace toward something at the rear of the room. As we walked, I admired the architecture. There were large beams of wood intersecting at even intervals across the cathedral ceiling. In between some of the beams were narrow skylights that allowed the moon to shine in. The floors were a mahogany wood with a pine inlay giving it an overall dramatic look. There were candle sconces on the walls even though I was sure the room had electricity.
It took me a moment to realize that we were not alone. As soon as I dragged my attention away from the architecture, I saw them. On a raised dais on the far side of the room sat seven people. In the center position was Efia, Tabitha’s adoptive mother. I knew Efia from the times I had visited Tabitha at her house, but I was still struck by her beauty. It was unusual that a person of African descent would adopt someone so obviously not African like Tabitha, but the two of them were so devoted to each other that it made sense. Efia was from Ghana, spoke the language and wore the clothing. She owned an international marketing company and provided Tabitha with a lifestyle that any high school girl would dream of. Like so many nights before, I wondered what my life would have been like if Efia was my mother.
Anger and confusion raced through me. My foster mom had been great and I had never wanted to change that. She raised me by herself and struggled to make sure I had the best that she could offer, or so I was led to believe. The truth about her raising me purely for profit left a bitter taste in my mouth. And, standing in front of the same woman who has me listed on her family tree didn’t help matters.
I stared at the dais and its occupants. There were three people to Efia’s left and three to her right and all of them were staring back at me. I felt movement from behind me and exhaled when Tabitha came to stand at my side. She bent into a low curtsey and stayed there. I was so shocked that my mouth dropped open. I looked around frantically and, not knowing what else to do, I sank down into the best curtsey I could manage with my set of curtsey-skills. I almost tumbled over, which brought a thinly veiled laugh from a member of the dais.
“Stand”, Efia’s accented voice commanded. “Solomon, please bring Cheyenne a chair.”
Solomon was carrying a large chair in one hand as if it were a paper cup, and when he set it down quietly, he bowed at me and then at the dais and walked backwards to his post by the door. My legs started to get weak and I was beginning to feel like I was going to be sick. Tabitha put one hand on my elbow and, to my amazement, she was supporting all of my weight. I backed into the chair and sat down. This was not good.
“Welcome, Cheyenne”, Efia started. “I know you have questions about why you are here and what is going on so I will get right to it. I am told that you have seen the family tree, is this correct?”
Efia stared at me while I tried to get my mouth to work. Based on our surroundings and the fact that we were just bowing in front of her, I expected her to be impatient with my lack of response. She surprised me, however, by looking directly into my eyes and smiling. That smile was so like the one that Jordan had given me that I found myself even more anxious than ever. Efia also had my eyes.
“Yes, Ma’am,” I finally sputtered out. “Yes, Ma’am, I did. I have a lot of questions.”
“I know, my child, and I will try to answer them all, but we no longer have the luxury of time and leisure. There are things that you must know about your family and such knowledge is hard to bear.”
I stared back at her as her words sunk in. I looked across the dais to find the assembled group looking at me with a mixture of anxiety, relief and fear. The conflicting emotions almost made the air too thick to breath and I found my vision going blurry.
“Have you been having any dreams, Cheyenne?”
My attention was snapped back to Efia in the center of the dais. I had been having dreams; a lot of them. They had started when I was a child and increases every year since. The day after my 17th birthday they began to include smells and they always ended one way; with me awaking up screaming. As I recalled the number of dreams I'd had over the past year, it became strange that my foster mom had not once come into the room to see if I was okay. I wondered if she knew what was happening or if she just didn’t care. Or both.
“Yes, Ma’am. I have been having dreams.”
“I would love to hear about them. Just pick the most vivid one you can recall.”
I sat there in awe and tried to figure out why Efia was interested in my dreams. The most recent dream that I dreamt hadn’t been pleasant. I remembered trying to escape the bowels of a ship where monsters were feeding on the slaves. I could clearly see the ship’s interior. The wood was warped by the salt water and winds and had begun to smell like mildew. I saw buckets of food mere inches from buckets of human waste. Even the memory of the dream seemed real as I recalled crawling over the debris toward the ladder. And then I froze. The person in the remembered dream was racing past a series of hanging pots when she turned her head and I saw her reflection. In my dream I was Efia.
The dream Efia turned and looked behind us at the sound of a pot hitting the floor. There was something there in the shadows just out of our view. We slowly continued toward the ladder believing that help would be on deck. Our feet slipped on the first rung and we fell to the floor splitting our lip open. We heard a groan from the shadows and looked in the direction of the sound. Squinting against the darkness, we could almost make out a silhouette of something…something crouched in the corner.
We looked for something to arm ourselves with and found an old mop handle. We lay on the floor gripping the mop handle and praying that someone would come
to our rescue.
I opened the eyes that I had not remembered closing and stared at Efia as if she were a ghost. Her eyes and nose and mouth were exactly the same as the girl in the ship. The same as the girl in every single one of my dreams; my nightmares. I was shocked that I had never noticed that before. Even more, I was shocked that I was having dreams about Efia being on a slave ship.
I took a deep breath while Efia continued to wait for me to tell her of my most vivid dream and began to recount the last dream in the series. It felt as if I were living the dream rather than retelling it and, as soon as my eyes closed, I was running as fast as I could…as fast as the skirts I was wearing would allow. They were never made for running; Victorian walking dresses were apparently made just for walking. If it weren’t for the forest canopy, I would have seen the fullness of the moon as it lit my path, but the darkness overwhelmed me threatening to hinder my flight to safety. And, I had to get to safety, after what I had just witnessed, because the monsters were on my trail.
The fact that I had lost a shoe and was 7 months pregnant had not slowed my stride, however the low tree branches were slicing into my skin and drawing blood; sweet, life preserving blood that flowed down my cheeks and arms. If I could just make it to the river I believed I could hide. The monsters were said to fear the water, but I knew better. I met them on the water during the long cruise from my home to this dreadful place. Those monsters showed no signs of fear the entire six month trip. Never showed the kind of fear that I experienced at that moment. I needed to concentrate and get away.
The sound of my heartbeat was as loud as the stomping of my feet along the forest floor. Desperately trying to quiet myself without slowing my pace, I stumbled as I came across a fallen tree and lay there as still as a doe caught in the sites of a rifle. For what felt like a fortnight, nothing happened. No monster jumped out of the shadows. No monster descended from the forest ceiling.
Slowly I sat up, gathered my skirts around my calves and took a deep, nerve calming breath. I looked around even though I knew it was useless. The only thing I knew for sure is that I was running away from the burning plantation and the horrors that occurred there. My stomach threatened to empty its contents and I was forced to place my head between my knees. That was when I heard it. Just the smallest of noises like a foot stepping on a twig, perhaps. I hoped for a rabbit or even a skunk, but I had no disillusions that I had been found.
I struggled to stand just as I heard another sound behind me and felt someone grasp me around the waist before pulling me into a bush. The moment I tried to scream a smelly rag was stuffed into my mouth and I found myself wrapped in a wet, warm cloak of some sort. The stench was horrendous but my fear was overwhelming the rest of my senses.
Within moments, I was completely covered with the smelling cloak, branches and dirt from the forest floor. Something was burying me alive and there was nothing I could do about it. Fear paralyzed my entire body and I prayed to my God to deliver my spirit back to my homeland. I prayed so hard that I swore my God was going to come right out of the sky and delivery me from this evil. But, either evil was stronger than I thought or my God simply did not wish to hear me, for at that moment, I turned to look in the face of the person whom had smuggled me to a safe place.
What I saw was a familiar face and extraordinary blue eyes from my past, and she had her finger to her lips in a plea to silence my forthcoming scream.
I opened my eyes screaming! No longer sitting on the forest floor in the arms of a monster, instead I was sitting in a plush chair in front of an altar of strangers. My clothes were wet with sweat and I felt like I would never breathe again. Even though I was awake and simply recalling the dream, it still felt as if I was experiencing the events myself. Once I was able to gain an ounce of composure, I looked toward the dais.
Efia and the rest of the panel were looking at me with sympathy. I was certain that they thought I was insane and would have to be admitted into psychiatric care, but each of them smiled in turn and made me feel encouraged. Instinctively, I reached out my hand and was rewarded with Tabitha’s firm grip and confident smile. She had become my constant comfort and, regardless of the current circumstances, I welcomed her presence.
“Well,” Efia said, “I recall it exactly the same way.”
“But how? What's wrong with me?”
This question earned me soft laughs from the panel. But, before I could feel offended, they all smiled benevolently.
“Cheyenne, from time to time, some of my descendants will relive my life in their dreams. Unfortunately, my child, you were given some of the unpleasant parts.”
“But, I don’t understand.”
“And it may take you years to gain that understanding, but we do not have that luxury. Time is not, as they say, on our side. You will be 18 in three months and must decide what you are going to do for the rest of your life. What you are going to be.”
I knew that turning 18 was a big deal, but Efia sounded as cryptic as a conspiracy theorist. I looked around for confirmation that she was a little bit crazy and received none. Everyone in the room was in agreement with whatever Efia was talking about.
“So, what now? Who am I suppose to be?”
“There is no easy way to say this, so let me start with some introductions. You know Tabitha, of course, and you’ve met Solomon on a few occasions,” Efia paused as if waiting to see if I were prepared for the rest.
“To my left,” she continued and held up her left hand, “are Abraham, Israel and Providence. And to my right are Pleasant, Rachel and Eliza.”
I stared at them, noting their names as some that appeared on the family tree. I searched my memory for the dates to match and decided that I must have read something wrong. I couldn't remember all of the dates, but there were two that really stood out to me. Since I was born in 1994, I remembered that the other date of birth was that of Pleasant. And the only reason I remembered it was because I loved that name; its originality. The Pleasant on the family tree was born in 1793.
As soon as I thought it, Pleasant turned her eyes toward me and held my gaze. She seemed to be searching for understanding and comprehension but I knew she would get none. I had no idea what was going on.
Just then, the doors to the room slammed open and Jordan walked in with another man at his side. The second man looked like Jordan but was slightly smaller and a bit darker. Both men nodded in my direction and continued to the dais. They bowed as the shorter man spoke.
“Excuse the interruption, Efia. The Oleanders are closing ranks. We must decide our next course of action.”
“Thank you, Zander,” Efia said. “Cheyenne, I had hoped the next set of events would happen differently, but we are out of time.”
She paused, less for effect than for my benefit. The next thing out of her mouth was going to be big.
“Zander and Jordan are your brothers and you have a younger sister around here somewhere. We are all family, in fact, in one way or another.”
“But how…,”
“There will be time for that later,” she continued. “For now, know this: I am a Vampire, as are most of the others in this room. Tabitha was sent as a scout to protect you while our elders confirmed that you are indeed my blood descendant.”
As if to drive the point home, a man I hadn’t seen appeared from the shadows and walked toward her. He knelt directly in front of her taking off his suede choker and exposing his neck as he went. Efia leaned toward him, never breaking eye contact with me. She appeared ready to kiss him until her lips pulled back to reveal slightly elongated canines. The man jerked slightly when she penetrated his skin and started to suck softly from his neck, but then relaxed against the leg of the chair.
I sat there in a daze, as if she had not just bitten someone right in front of me. Tabitha, who was standing sentry behind me, gently rubbed my shoulder. I was waiting for Ashton Kutcher to jump out and say I was Punk’d, but nothing happened. I would have thought this was an April Fool’s prank if
not for the fact that it was the end of September. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I knew that once they were open I would find myself back in my 3rd period math class that I must have fallen asleep in. I took another deep breath and opened my eyes. Damn!
Every eye on the dais was trained on me. Efia was wiping tiny drops of blood from her mouth with a white handkerchief and the man she had been bitten was sitting quietly at the foot of her chair. I stared at him for a minute before I leaned forward and threw up all over the floor. I fell down in front of my chair and continued to heave up everything that I had recently eaten and stayed on all fours until my stomach was empty and my body stopped shaking.
Zander and Jordan gently lifted me back into the chair while Tabitha wiped my face with a wet cloth. They were acting as if this was an everyday occurrence for them. A man dressed in red came and cleaned up my mess while I regained what little composure I could. Efia and the others on the dais sat quietly. I waited for them to crack a smile and tell me that it was all a joke, but when I looked at Tabitha, I knew that they weren’t.
Chapter 4
I bolted straight up as if I had been zapped with a taser. By looking at my surroundings I realized that I was in the suite of rooms where I had taken my bath. I was covered with a soft comforter while laying on a chaise lounge near the fireplace. On the rug in front of me lay Artemis and Apollo. They had raised their heads when I sat up and were looking right at me. They were not, however, the only beings in the room with me. Sitting on a chaise lounge opposite the sprawling dogs was Tabitha. She was wearing a black militant suit, a small smile on her face and worry in her eyes.
“I’m sorry about that. The feeding”, she actually sounded remorseful. “Do you think you’re ready to talk?”
“I’m not ready to say anything, but I am ready for an explanation,” I said, pulling my shoulders back as if I had some sort of control over anything that had happened to me in the last few days.
Blood Descendants (St. Clair Vampires Book 1) Page 6
