Blinking back the tears that threatened, Isis began to dress, trying to ignore the memories nagging at the back of her brain…
“You are an excellent warrior.” Caesareon stroked her long hair, trailing his long fingernails against her bare skin. She stared blankly ahead, without responding. He smiled and planted a kiss against her back. His touch was like acid to her, eating away at her flesh, causing it to sizzle with unpleasantness.
“It is only because of your excellent training, Master.” The words burned, coming out of her throat, but she knew they were necessary. And it’s not like it was a lie. His training had turned her into an excellent warrior, an excellent killer.
“I knew you would excel, I knew from the first moment I saw you that you would not fail me.” His fingers reached the necklace around her throat and he fiddled with the stones. “Would you like to know where I got this?” he asked. Isis only nodded. “I made it.” There must have been disbelief in her eyes because Caesareon laughed and stroked her cheek with his finger. “Do you not believe me capable?”
“You do not seem to be the jewelry making type,” she muttered.
But she knew he was telling the truth. His fingers were long and skinny, almost fragile looking, that moved delicately when he spoke or held a knife, trying to teach her the ways of a vampire and a warrior.
“They’re made of bone,” he said. “The bones of a human and the bones of a vampire.” He said this so casually, like it was a normal conversation and he was merely commenting upon the weather. “It’s meant as a symbol,” he continued. “Made by me, with bones and onyx and gold; it is strong, like its master, and rich like him as well. The bones represent what I am capable of, that no one, no human nor vampire, is above me.”
“So why did you give this to me?” She reached for it, clutching it in her fists, her voice shaking. “If it is meant as a symbol for you, then shouldn’t you wear it?”
He chuckled. “No, dear Isis, no, this necklace is also a symbol of what you mean to me. You are my favored, it is only logical that my symbol of power lies upon the neck of his favorite warrior. So that everyone may know, that you are mine, forever mine…”
“What about me, my Master?” A squeaky voice sounded from the shadows. They both turned as a figure stepped out of the darkness. They knew she had been there, of course, their senses were at high alert. She was bare from head to toe, her hands clutched together in a praying fashion. Her eyes were wide and pleading and red—always red.
“What about you, Demetria?” Caesareon asked, raising one of his dark eyebrows, staring at her incredulously.
She walked closer then dropped to her knees in front of them, kissing Caesareon’s bare feet. “Am I not a favored one? Am I not important to you? Will I be yours forever like her?” She jerked her chin up, gesturing at Isis with venom.
“Stand, Demetria,” Caesareon commanded; his voice was no longer soft and excited, but held disgust at her behavior. She obeyed and stared at him silently, with tears in her eyes, falling down her face.
“You love no one but her, Master. We all try to pleasure you, to make you love us, and she defies your every wish, yet you love her so, why?” Sse begged.
In that moment, Isis tried to make herself look as small as possible. She pitied the girl, pitied her for wanting so badly to please this monster. Isis did everything she could possibly do to displease him and yet, she still came out on top—forever his.
Caesareon looked from vampire to vampire and smiled. “How about,” he said, “you duel for favoritism?”
Demetria’s eyes went wide. “My Master?”
“Yes, it’s a splendid idea!” He clapped his hands together and looked excitedly from girl to girl. “It will also be a way to test out your new training. You two will fight, the one left standing will become my new favorite!”
Demetria showed her fangs in a smile, obviously thrilled by the idea of getting to beat Isis around a bit. Isis didn’t mind too much either. She wasn’t really fond of Demetria—at all—but she’d let the girl beat her, perhaps kill her, and two people would come out winning. Demetria would win his favoritism and Isis would die.
Isis nodded, so did Demetria.
“Excellent!” He called for his other servants, all whom cleared out the furniture and built a crowd around the two vampires. Caesareon stood off the side, crossing his arms against his chest and observing them now with no emotion on his face.
They stood lengths apart from each other, Isis immobile, Demetria giddy with excitement. Isis found Caesareon’s eyes and held them. They were that steady yellow, reminding her all too well of a rattle snake. Like he would attack at any moment, and you wouldn’t even see it coming.
He broke his gaze from hers and turned to the vampire next to him, whispering something in his ear. The vampire inclined his head and left the room, making Isis wonder what was going on. He came back a moment later, holding a human girl in his arms. Isis sucked in a breath. The girl looked to be about eleven years old, small, in the vampire’s arms. She had a long blonde braid, hanging down her side, her eyes were wide and terrified, yet she stayed unmoving.
Caesareon nodded then stepped forward in between Isis and Demetria, holding Isis’s stare for a moment before turning his attention to the mall crowd. “In order to gain my favoritism, Isis and Demetria have agreed to a challenge.” He turned to Demetria, who smiled confidently at him. He turned back to the crowd and continued, “Using their new skills, they will fight until only one remains standing.” He then motioned for the vampire carrying the human to step forward as well.
He did and dropped the human girl to the ground, where she stayed in the fetal position. The vampire retreated. Caesareon reached down and gripped her by the arm, pulling her to her feet. The poor creature was trembling, averting her gaze from everyone in the room, burying her face in her shoulder. “As we know, Isis has deep compassion for the humans.”
Whistles and cries of disgust rang around the room, Isis felt their disapproving stares on her, but she kept her steady gaze focused on the girl, ignoring each and every one of them.
“Yes, yes, I’m aware of her disgusting habits.” Everyone silenced immediately. “And I know that Isis will not want to fight Demetria fairly, so I have decided to make a deal.” He turned to Isis, pulling the child with him; he gripped the little girl by the cheeks and forced her to look at Isis. Isis stared back, her heart palpitating rapidly. The human’s eyes were a bright greenish blue, tears streamed down her face, and it reminded Isis of her brother. “Fight Demetria fairly, Isis, for if you do not I will kill this human child.”
The snake had struck.
The battle began, and Isis didn’t need to think twice about it. She lunged for Demetria, everything that had been taught to her overriding her instincts. All she could think about was her anger, her fear, her compassion for this human girl. Caesareon was threatening to kill her if she didn’t fight fair. Basically, he had known she was going to let Demetria win and kill her and he had taken her weakest point and used it against her.
This would be the last time, she thought savagely as she collided with Demetria in midair, the force of their contact bouncing them back. Isis landed on her feet while Demetria fell backwards, her back making an awful sound against the hard floor. Isis didn’t wait for her to recover, she attacked again, jumping onto her and slamming her knee into Demetria’s stomach with jarring impact.
Demetria retaliated by gripping Isis’s wrist and twisting it, a loud crack in her bones made Isis cry out. She bit her lip, extracting blood and wriggled her wrist away; with her undamaged hand, she backhanded Demetria in the face. Her head snapped to the side in a jerking motion, Isis tried gripping her neck with her unbroken hand but felt Demetria’s legs go around her waist and push Isis off of her.
She fell on her back, cradling her wrist against her chest so as to not damage it even further. Jumping to her feet, Isis backed away from Demetria, who was also standing, wiping away the blood at the corner of
her mouth. She smiled demonically and opened her hands out, as if to say ‘come and get me.’
Isis regarded her carefully with all of her senses. She had done no damage except for the little cut on her lip, her breathing was rapid but she was otherwise calm. There was a small scream around her. Isis turned to the sound and saw that the human girl was on her knees, Caesareon had her hair gripped in his hand and he was tugging at it. She was clawing at his hand but his grip remained tight.
He grinned and with his finger, cut just beneath the girl’s collarbone, a thin line of blood ran down the front of her. She cried out louder now and struggled against him. A cold fury swept itself into Isis’s veins; she immediately thought of her brother, his neck cut just like that.
Anger welled and even though it pained her to do so, she held her injured wrist out, and beckoned her forward with her fingers. Demetria frowned, her face becoming a mask of fury. It had the effect that Isis thought it would. Demetria hated to be taunted, and it coming from Isis was even worse. She charged for her, her claws bared in front of her.
Isis dodged her in a twirl, ending up behind her. With her good hand, she cracked it down against Demetria’s back, causing her to fall face first. As soon as she hit the ground, Isis brought her foot back and kicked her in the stomach. Demetria clutched at it in pain then Isis bent down and held onto her forearm, bending it sideways as easily as if she were snapping a twig.
Demetria cried out in agony. She knew her bones would grow back, but it would be painful and it would be a long process. “A bone for a bone,” Isis said, loud enough for Caesareon to hear. And then, in one quick motion, Isis lashed out with her fingers, digging them an inch deep into Demetria’s neck, leaving her immobile and barely breathing on the floor.
Isis stood up and turned to face Caesareon, he was smiling, as he always was, and had released the human girl. She was huddled at his feet, shaking in fear. “Well done, Isis,” he marveled. “I find I quite enjoyed your method. You observed her weakness and used it against her, what predators should do. Although it is quite unfortunate that you let yourself be played in such a way.” He indicated at her broken floppy wrist, which had already begun to heal, the bones mending together. Caesareon snapped his fingers and vampires immediately went to Demetria, picking her up and dragging her away to the medication room, where she would be healed, and greatly shamed.
Isis looked at the human girl. “Let her go,” she commanded through her clenched teeth. Caesareon looked down at the girl and chuckled.
“Yes, I did say that if you didn’t fight fairly I’d kill her, didn’t I?” He lifted the girl up and stood her in front of him. Isis stared at her, and she stared back, making full eye contact for once. Her eyes pleaded Isis to save her, to get her out of there. Isis stepped forward to grab her but Caesareon pulled her back. “Though you did fight fairly, your nasty habit of loving humans has got to be overcome. Think of this as a lesson.” And without batting an eye, Caesareon twisted the girl’s neck, killing her instantly.
“Is what she says true?” Demetria burst through her Master’s door. He was naked and dripping water onto the floor. Any other day the sight would have made Demetria turn her head, blushing, but her anger kept her eyes focused on his own. Her Master raised his eyebrows at her entrance.
“I’m afraid I do not know what you speak of.” He shook his dark hair out, scattering water across the room, and turned, pulling off clothes from the bed.
“Don’t play coy with me!” she shrieked. It wasn’t like her to ever yell at her Master, fear and adoration for him kept her from doing so, but she was too angry to think, too shaken up by her arrival—Isis.
Demetria had thought that once Isis had run away, he would realize that she was the better choice, always loyal, always faithful, but he had done nothing but obsess over Isis’s absence. So, when he had made Demetria his second in command she assumed that he was finally forgetting, finally realizing the true talent she possessed. But then he found Isis again, and Demetria feared that he would bring her out into the limelight, just like he had all those years ago. He assured her that Demetria shouldn’t be concerned with Isis’s return—that he had a plan to execute her publicly for her insolence—
Now, she wasn’t so sure…
Her Master pulled on his dark black pants and turned to face her, running a hand through his hair. “So I see you spoke to Isis.”
“Yes, I spoke to Isis!”
“And what is it she told you?” He leaned against the edge of bed and observed her with an unreadable look upon his face.
“She said—Isis said that you lied to me, that you brought her back to become your second in command! She told me you lied!”
“And you believe her?”
“How could I not? She has always been your favorite! She is your obsession!” She pointed an accusing finger at him.
His expression morphed into a scowl. “Calm yourself, Demetria,” he demanded.
Sobs rattled her shoulders and she fell at his feet, like she had so many times before and pleaded to him with cries. Tears fell from her eyes and onto his feet. “Master, please tell me she is lying!” She held onto him. “Please tell me she will be executed! Tell me the truth, please!”
“You cannot handle the truth, Demetria, you are weak.”
The truth of his statement shook her. She squeezed her eyes closed and shook her head back and forth, holding his ankles, her hands shaking. “I am not weak, Master…” she denied. Feeling hands touch her shoulders, causing sparks of electricity to course through her, she looked up. He was looking down at her through his curled dark lashes. Gently, he guided her up until she was on her feet in front of him, staring angrily into his face.
“Look at you, Demetria,” he said with that odd coolness that told her that something bad was coming. “You claim to not be weak, yet here you are, crying at my feet, begging me to give you false reassurances. Look me in the eyes and tell me that this is not a sign of weakness.”
Demetria opened her mouth but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words, because she knew he was right. She was weak.
“You have been nothing but jealous of Isis…”
“That is because she has your favor, my Master! I have done nothing but try and please you! Why her? Why?”
“Because you are weak!” he spat venomously, gripping her shoulders tightly. “Look at yourself, Demetria. You ask why I favor Isis? Because she is strong, with a will of her own, and I admire that; I can use it in battle, as a demonstration. I can show them that if Isis—a wild spirit—can be controlled, then I can control anyone I want. You? You are weak and know nothing but how to follow orders, easily tricked, easily led astray. I have millions of you, but Isis—she is irreplaceable.”
Demetria’s bottom lip trembled slightly and she looked down at her bare feet, suddenly hating herself, but hating Isis even more, for being alive, for everything she’d ever done to her.
He let go of her, his frown disappearing into a smile, yet the icy coldness of his anger still remained. “I will announce tonight that Isis will command my armies. But do not think that I will forget about you or what you are to me, no, never. You will be there to follow any order given to you by Isis—her second in command.”
Demetria turned and ran.
11
Santiago Enterprises had been reconstructed in a matter of months. Everything that had been burned down was quickly built up again, making it look exactly the way it had been before Damien had set his Rogues on it. There had been no need to hail a cab, Maria had called for one of the limos to pick them up and take them straight there. The ride had been silent and completely awkward, mainly on Antonio’s part.
He slumped in his seat; his arms crossed, and stared out the window the entire time with a frown on his face. He knew he had just seen his father the night before and had talked business with him, but he dreaded every moment he had to be in that building, confronting his own father.
The man had tried to apologize ma
ny times to Antonio, for believing Damien over him, for kicking him out of the coven, but Antonio chose to ignore it all. It wasn’t as if he didn’t love his father, he did, and he was just pained by the memory of Damien so that he couldn’t bring himself to confront him just yet.
He pleaded with Maria not to tell their father; to only get them into S.E. quietly and secretly. She had agreed, but he was still wary.
They arrived at S.E. quickly; all three of them exited the car. After Maria barked quick orders to the driver to wait for them, they walked into the building. The double glass doors slid open at their arrival, beckoning them inside. Maria walked in first, followed by Ezzy then Antonio last.
Maria greeted the receptionist with a perky “Hello!” then gestured them towards the elevator. Pressing the ‘up’ button, they waited for the doors to open; Antonio turned to his sister and asked, “Where are these documents?”
“They’re on the fifth floor, inside of a heavily locked and coded room.” The doors opened and the three of them stepped inside. Maria pressed the number five and the doors closed again, the elevator jerking up.
“Please tell me you know the code,” Antonio muttered.
Maria scowled at him. “Of course I know the code, tonto.”
“Just making sure…”
They were silent again. Antonio cast a silent look at Ezzy. She was slumped against the wall, her hair covering her face. She was rubbing her stomach in a circular motion, her shoulders tight. He pressed a hand against her shoulder and she looked up at him, her eyes wide.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “You look sick…”
She managed a smile. “I’m fine.” The instant the words escaped her mouth; he knew that she was lying by the vibes emanating from her mind. He glanced at her curiously and squeezed her shoulder in comfort. She leaned into him and sighed. Her hands were still placed on her stomach, holding it in a gentle manner.
My Master Page 8
