My Master

by Aleera Anaya Ceres

  “Caesareon.”

  3

  Esmeralda pulled on her comfortable black pants and a royal blue turtle neck. After brushing her hair and tying it into a ponytail she grabbed her purse and left. It had been a while since she had actually left the house. A long while, ever since she had gotten sick she had never felt like going out—she’d skipped out on her music lessons practically all month. Not that she needed them anymore, when her instructor said she was a natural. Antonio said music ran in her blood. Her father had been a musician and she aimed to follow in his footsteps.

  She found it rather odd that she’d been so sheltered before, craving freedom and the outdoors. She’d tasted freedom the minute she’d left Santiago mansion. Antonio had taken her across America until everything she’d ever wanted to see; mountains, oceans, and deserts, had all been crossed off her list. Now, she was back home and comfortable within these walls.

  She had been sick a while and Antonio hadn’t noticed at all until last night when she threw up all over the floor. Of course, she didn’t blame him for not noticing. He’d had problems of his own. He was still suffering from his brother’s death, she could tell and yes, maybe some of what he was feeling was weighing down on her energy but she didn’t feel she had the right to complain. Not when she’d gone through the same thing those first few months after Damien’s death.

  Plagued by nightmares, waking up screaming because she thought Rogues were feasting on her flesh from every angle, reliving the same nightmare over and over again. Damien, sinking his fangs into her neck, finding Antonio’s body in a pool of blood.

  It had been overwhelming. It had been like her childhood, waking up after nightmares with pulsing headaches. Except where there had once been a blackness in her memory, everything was clear as day now.

  To keep her distracted, Antonio had taken her away, kept her busy and eventually, the nightmares had stopped.

  And now it was his turn.

  Maybe I’ll go to the doctor’s tomorrow, she thought absently as she walked to the movie theatre. I’ll do it while Antonio is with his dad, that way he won’t worry. She smiled happily to herself as she walked along the sidewalk.

  She got to the movie theatre a while later and bought her ticket and a tub of popcorn. By the time the movie was over, she walked out of the theatre with snotty napkins and red eyes. It had been a tragic love story about a girl who had gotten pregnant with her boyfriend’s child but he had been too involved with all of the wrong people. In the end, he was killed and she was all alone with her son. It was a sad story that had put her in a crap mood. She was in need of some serious drug store snack food.

  She made her way to the drug store and walked the aisles. In the end she settled with a small pack of cupcakes, a bag of nacho Doritos, skittles, and a small can of Sprite. She also swung by the hygiene aisle to buy deodorant and body wash. When everything was safely in her basket, she started to walk to check out her items when something on the shelf caught her eye, something that reminded her of the movie. It was in a little pink and white box, a pregnancy test.

  Ezzy stared at it, thinking about the movie. The girl in it hadn’t noticed she was pregnant until she had started to get dizzy, throw up, and of course, when her period never came.

  Period.

  Esmeralda thought for a moment. When had she had her last period? She couldn’t remember. It had been a while ago, she couldn’t remember when exactly, she just had been too busy to focus on things like that. On impulse, she pulled it off the shelf and threw it in the basket.

  Positive. Positive. Positive.

  Esmeralda Ortiz was positive.

  She stared at the little pink plus sign with tears trickling down her face. She was positive. She couldn’t believe it. Ezzy placed her hand against her stomach and pushed lightly against it. A baby, she thought. There was a baby growing inside of her. Her baby, Antonio’s baby, their baby; the idea still didn’t register fully.

  All she knew about vampire/human pregnancies was that they didn’t really differ from a human/human pregnancy. Natural Borns could bear and father children like any human and in this case, her baby could either be born human or vampire.

  Esmeralda pressed her hand tighter against her stomach then another thought occurred to her. How would she tell Antonio? She had to, he had just as much part in this as she and it’s not like she could keep it from him for long. Soon he’d notice.

  Of course, she thought, she didn’t have to tell him right away. Just until he worked out his problems, until then she wouldn’t tell him. She’d just wait. It wasn’t like he was going to pop into her mind anytime soon.

  Lately he hadn’t been eavesdropping because that would risk a connection he didn’t want. It would allow her to tap into his mind easier and there was something that he didn’t want her to see. Sure, it hurt her to know that they were Soul Mates and he couldn’t confide in her with certain things but she was still trying to let him come to it on his own terms and when he was ready he’d come to her. For now she had to practice her patience and try to keep this from him as best as she could.

  The opening of a door drew her attention away from the pregnancy test. “Ezzy?” It was Antonio.

  Ezzy quickly grabbed the pregnancy stuff and shoved it under the counter next to the tampons and pads, a place she knew he’d never look, and went out in the hall to greet him. She plastered on a smile and hoped he wouldn’t sense her nervousness.

  “Hello.” She kissed him lightly on the lips. He hugged her briefly. “How was your day?” she asked.

  He sighed, running a hand through his unruly hair. “Stressful. My father wants me to inherit the business.”

  “But you won’t.”

  “No. I won’t.”

  Esmeralda understood. Antonio still felt bitterness towards his father. It was, after all, Mr. Santiago who had banished Antonio when Damien had convinced him that Antonio was on the Blood Drug and killing humans. Antonio couldn’t seem to forgive him for that. She didn’t blame him. She wouldn’t have been able to forgive him either.

  “So what did you do today?” Antonio asked her; obviously he was done talking about his father and decided to change the subject. Typical. He took her hand and led her downstairs and they both sat down on the couch.

  Esmeralda thought of the pregnancy test, hidden in the cabinet in the bathroom. She swallowed. “I—uh—went to see a movie.” She cursed herself for sounding too obvious. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice her nervousness. He actually seemed interested as he pulled her to his chest and ran his fingers through her hair.

  “What movie did you see?”

  “When nothing else matters.”

  “What was it about?”

  Esmeralda took a deep breath. “A girl who got pregnant by her boyfriend, but he was involved with a gang and had a lot of problems that he was trying to get over. In the end, he died because of it and she was alone with his child.”

  “Spoiler,” he mumbled. “I wanted to see that movie and now you ruined it for me.” He tried to make his tone sound light, but she could tell that something was bothering him.

  Do it, she thought, tell him now! “Uhm—Antonio?”

  “Yeah?”

  “How would you feel if we started a family together?”

  At this, he tensed up. “A family?” he asked as if this were a foreign concept to him.

  “Yeah,” she continued. “Like if we had kids? How would you feel?”

  “Is this about that movie you watched? Is it making you emotional and stuff?”

  Esmeralda swallowed. “Partly…”

  “If we ever had a kid, it’d make me happy; preferably if we had a girl.”

  Esmeralda brightened up. Maybe she could tell him soon after all. “Why a girl?” She asked, poking him in the side. He lifted her chin up with his forefinger and looked her in the eyes, suddenly serious and intense.

  “Because I’d want her to be just like you.”

  Esmeralda felt as though she cou
ldn’t breathe. Her pulse jumped in her throat and her heart skipped. She was breathless when she spoke. “What if,” she asked, “our baby came out just like you?”

  He tensed. “That won’t happen. It can’t happen…I won’t let it.”

  She was confused now. Why wouldn’t he want their kid to be like him? He obviously saw something wrong with himself; this was obviously about Damien. Why wouldn’t he let her help him? Why wouldn’t he let her in? she wondered. “Antonio Santiago, you are a good person.” She held his face between her hands, and tried as best as she could to send huge waves of love into his mind, to let him know how she felt, without giving away the news about the pregnancy. Not yet. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

  He pushed her hands away and shook his head, his eyes closing, and his thick curls falling against his forehead. “Ezzy, stop,” he pleaded. “Don’t even try and convince me that I’m good—”

  “But you are!”

  This time, he gripped her shoulders and squeezed, tightly. Esmeralda tried not to wince. He raised his voice to a shout. “Don’t sit there and act like you know! You have no idea what’s it’s like! You have no idea!”

  Esmeralda fought back tears. “Then help me understand! What’s wrong with you? Talk to me! Why do you see yourself as a monster?”

  Antonio pushed her back, lightly, and stood up and walked away without another word, leaving Esmeralda alone. When he was gone, she buried her hands in her face and let her shoulders shake. They still stung from where he had dug his nails in earlier. She let herself cry because she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know how to help Antonio, and god knew how badly she wanted too.

  Esmeralda let herself cry until she fell asleep, alone.

  4

  Isis looked down at her trembling hands. They had been that way for a while now, and why wouldn’t they be? She was about to stare the devil in the face and, hopefully, kill him once and for all. She failed the first time, but she was given a second opportunity and she took it, which eventually had led to her escape.

  She was waiting at that same café, in the same seat where she had last seen him across the street. She knew he’d come. He wouldn’t pass up the chance to talk to her, especially when she had gone through such extremes to get a message to him.

  Isis shuddered.

  Luckily the blood underneath her nails had washed away easily and the memory wasn’t haunting. She didn’t usually kill, not anymore, but she had decided that the best way to get the message to him was to use one of his ancient methods on one of his new minions that she had caught following her. A simple gesture of the blade and the head split from the body easily; sent on a silver platter with a note. Café, 11:00 o’clock.

  He had to come, and when he did…

  “Isis.” The way he said her name, like a soft whisper, almost a caress, sent icy shivers down her shoulder blades.

  She looked up, and there he was. Standing behind the chair in front of her clad in a long black trench coat, belted at the waist. His hands were in his pockets and he was smiling down at her with his yellow eyes, his short dark hair was combed neatly to the side. He looked elegant, as he always had.

  She balled her hand into a fist. “Caesareon,”

  “Long time no see.” He smiled, revealing his white fangs, as he took a seat across from her and undid the scarf that wound around his neck. “How long has it been?”

  “You know how long it’s been, Caesareon. Skip the small talk; I didn’t call you here for that.”

  “Ah, yes. So, what did you call me here for? Mind you, I wasn’t really surprised—especially by your methods, well done—I knew you’d come to me eventually.” He twined his fingers together and rested his chin on them, smiling.

  She felt the urge to rip his lips from his face. Not yet, she told herself. Wait another moment.

  “How did you find me?” she asked through gritted teeth. After so many years of hiding, of moving from place to place, she thought she had finally lost him. She hated to think that she was easily traceable.

  “Oh, it was difficult, at first,” he said. “You changed locations so often that I couldn’t get a whiff of your scent, even with my best werewolves after you.”

  She blinked. Werewolves? He had werewolves now? Son of a bitch, she thought bitterly, gritting her teeth.

  “You gave me quite the chase, my darling.” His voice was thick and heavy and would have been almost romantic in a way, if she didn’t know any better. “A couple of years ago, though, I felt it.” He smiled, as if expecting her to react to this. She only blinked. “Our connection, Isis! The connection that exists between the created and the creator!” He pressed a finger to his temple and tapped. “I felt a tug in here. You were close to me, I knew it. I felt your…” He paused and took his hand away from his temple to press it down on her hand, which rested on the table. “…essence.”

  Isis pulled her hand away from his as if it were poisonous.

  “I know you must have felt it, as well. It is a special bond that one has with the vampire that created them. Dare you deny it?”

  She couldn’t. No matter how bad she wanted too. Even now, with him close to her, she could feel a weird sort of pulse, a pull towards him. Like blood calling to blood. She wondered if this is what it felt like to have a Soul Mate. As if they were both magnets being attracted to each other by a positive and negative force. She doubted it.

  “So is there anything else you wish to know?” He sounded so calm that it annoyed her. She tried to make her face unreadable.

  “What do you want from me?” she asked.

  He laughed. “The true reason why you called me here, at last surfaces!” Caesareon placed his hands flat on the table. Isis noted that his nails were razor sharp, like tips of blades. “I want what any other king wants…” he smiled. “His queen.”

  Isis scoffed. “How arrogant of you! Of course, after all of these years you see yourself as a king. It’s so typical that it’s become pathetic.”

  His smile didn’t waver as she thought it would have. He just reached out his hand towards her and pulled her forward by the cheeks, squeezing them and staring her straight in the eyes. “You left me, Isis. You, the one who was my most precious creation, had the audacity to run from me after everything I’d done for you.” He released her and leaned back in his chair. “And now,” he said, “I’m here to take back what’s rightfully mine.”

  Anger boiled at Isis’s insides. A cold rage that she had almost—but not completely—forgotten had surfaced again and she couldn’t contain it any longer. “Get this one thing straight,” she spat. “I am not yours. I have never been yours nor will I ever be yours. Whatever you’re planning, I don’t want to know, I just want you to get as far away from here as possible!”

  A vein in his throat twitched. “Whoever said I was plotting anything my dear, sweet Isis?”

  “I know you’re plotting something because I know you and don’t try to tell me otherwise. I want no part in it, I know you came for me for a reason and whatever it is I’m telling you now: hell no.”

  Caesareon frowned. “You don’t have an option. You will come with me and you will do what I tell you to do.”

  Isis crossed her arms against her chest, as if to block away the cold. “No,” she said. “I won’t.”

  Caesareon smiled. “Oh, I think you will.” And then, he reached into the pocket of his coat and fished out a piece of paper, small and rectangular and tossed it across the little table in front of Isis.

  She glanced down at it and her heart lurched in fear. It was a photograph of Esmeralda and Antonio; one of those cute little photographs from a mall booth. Ezzy had given it to her a few months back. Isis reached for the picture with a trembling hand. “So, you see?” Caesareon continued. “You will do what I want if you don’t want anything to happen to your little redheaded friend.”

  Isis balled the picture up into her hand. “You wouldn’t dare…”

  “Wouldn’t I?” He reached
into his pocket again and this time pulled out something red and silky and tossed it over at her. Strands of red hair. Esmeralda’s hair; she could tell by the scent. Isis stood, causing the chair to jerk back.

  “Where did you get that?” she demanded.

  He smiled at her then, a cat who watched smugly from a corner as the cold metal clamp fell onto the mouse and caught it. “Where do you think? To be honest, I only got it a couple of hours ago. She didn’t even notice I was there, she looks exhausted, the poor thing.” He spoke so casually that it began to grind on her nerves.

  Isis sat back down, putting her fingertips against Esmeralda’s hair. She could almost sense the girl—Ezzy would always be a girl to her—there, next to her, smiling and worrying and getting herself into danger.

  She had to bluff—make him believe that she didn’t care. She had to give it a try, even if she feared it was too late. She shrugged and pushed the hair away. “Oh well,” she said, as nonchalantly as she could manage. “I don’t care what you threaten me with. I won’t do what you want. Now or ever.”

  He laughed. Long and loud and hard. When he was finished he wiped away a tear that had fallen from his eye. “Isis, do you believe me to be that stupid? I can see it written all over your face. You care about these two: your precious Esmeralda Ortiz and Antonio Santiago. I know everything about them and everything about you. I have everything that you hold dear in the palm of my hand and in one move,” he reached out quickly and took her hand in his, squeezing it until she felt numb. “I could crumble it all before your eyes and there’d be nothing you could do to stop me.”

  Isis swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat and blinked rapidly. She did not want him to see her cry. Slowly, she nodded. “All right,” she said. “I’ll do anything. Just, please, don’t hurt my friends.”