Aleron: Book One of Strigoi Series (Stringoi Series) (14 page)

I scanned the castle and found Eliza settled at the dining table in our grand and luxurious kitchen. She was radiantly beautiful, appearing unspoiled by time. Silently I observed her. Flawless skin covered her naturally high cheekbones. My eyes digested every inch of the right side of her elegant silhouette, finally resting slightly above her delectable collarbone, on her carotid artery, which prominently thumped to the soothing rhythm of her beating heart.

She was drinking lilac tea when I entered. I must have startled her, for she nearly toppled over when she realized I was standing right beside her.

“Good evening, my dear.” My hands stroked the top of her head, through her hair, and down the back of her neck. With both hands around her throat I gently, yet forcefully, lifted her to a standing position. I nudged the chair to the side as I spun her around so that I was now behind her, our bodies pressed against one another. A small gasp escaped her lips as she leaned slightly to the side, inviting me to draw upon her sweet nectar. I kissed her neck with only a slight urge to take her life.

“Aleron,” she was again mesmerized by my presence and soothing touch. “I dreamed of you again last night, as I have every night for many months.” She turned to face me. “You’ll never leave me, will you?” Her question was sincere yet full of sorrow. Her deep rich chestnut eyes searched my face for a sign. Big and round, they searched, pleaded. I saw my own face in their reflection; however, a sign she did not receive.

“Don’t trouble your mind with such thoughts. You’ve been at my side for decades. You’re more essential to my existence than any number of victims I choose to dine on.”

She closed her eyes and smiled while pushing her face against my hand, as a cat searching for its master’s affection might. I caressed her warm skin with my cooling touch. I could always feel her skin tighten in the areas where my cold hands touched her balmy flesh.

“There’s something I must do, however. It will involve you.”

“What would you have me do, my lord?”

“Know that I do not wish to remain here another day. It’s agony to
dwell in what reminds me of her. I’m leaving and will send for you in due time.

“Where will you go, my lord? When will you send for me?”

“I shall go into the island of Philae, just along the Nile in upper Egypt. When I’ve settled, I’ll send a vessel and messenger along the Nile. She’ll come to you, and you shall trust her. Leave everything except the gold and jewels when I send for you. I’ll have all you’ll require in our new home. As for this place, when you leave I’ll no longer concern myself with it. Don’t worry, for I’ll send for you before Father Time calls your name once more.”

“Of course, my lord.”

I punctured my wrist and exposed the dark gift within. Gently I raised my arm to Eliza’s waiting mouth. She began to suck. I couldn’t help the feeling of ecstasy that immediately followed sharing my blood with her. I was indeed aroused by her eagerness and tenderness as she drained me of what immortal life I would allow her. Something in me wanted her to continue, though I didn’t know at the time what would happen to her if I allowed her to do so, or what would happen to me. Then she stopped.

She was indeed strong willed, more so than I. I would have had her drain me completely dry. In that moment I found a feeling that nearly rivaled my love for Mynea, my desire to feed, and my desire to live. It was a new craving to share the life force that had come and gone with every life I stole. The blood gift. What could this new feeling mean?

I opened my eyes and Eliza was staring at me. She looked more radiant than she had ever looked before! More beautiful. Though my heart didn’t seek another, if it had done so, that other would be she. In the blink of an eye, my erotic daze was replaced by spine-tingling focus. I straightened my posture and took a deep breath.

“I’ll be swift, my dear.” I left to return to my immortal cradle. I knew that if I’d stayed in Eliza’s presence, woe would have befallen my heart. Though she was exquisitely enchanting, she still reminded me of the one my heart longed for. Through her devotion, she commanded loyalty and trust from me. I couldn’t leave her to die, for a swift death awaited her if I chose to stay away too long. Her strength would leave her. She would lose the ability to walk and speak. Her heart would begin to crawl. Her
skin would lose all elasticity, and her bones would begin to rapidly deteriorate before, ultimately, turning into dust. The immortal blood had made her vulnerable to our will, for, she, too, knew of her mortality. She was a slave to life. Aren’t we all?

I made up my mind at that moment that I would keep my word and return for Eliza. I didn’t lie to her about returning when I was talking to her; however, I would have said anything to leave. She knew it. I could sense her uneasiness when I began to depart, and her thoughts cried out to me as I left the castle:
Please, my lord, Aleron. Don’t abandon me. Please don’t leave me to rot
.

I went down into the lowest room of the castle, the dungeon, which provided me with the salvation I needed so desperately, and took with me the last relic forgotten or bequeathed by my queen, the journal. And then I was off.

After crossing the water, I turned and looked back at the castle, which was now illuminated by the glow of the moon. I was captivated by its splendor and sheer size. For decades it had been my home. I had grown quite fond of its menacing exterior and luxurious interior. I remembered my first night in the dungeon. Vivid memories and random exotic rendezvous with Mynea began to fill my head. I took a moment and remembered her touch, her sweet and soothing voice. Her scent. She completely embodied everything I’d come to love and desire. The feeling of losing her would never weaken. I didn’t know at that time which scared me most, her leaving or not knowing where she had gone.

A vampire’s lust for blood is insatiable, so if a woeful heart can overshadow the appetite for life, one could conclude the intensity of my love and despair. It was enough to tear apart the very fabric of my immortal existence. I temporarily lost my desire to live. Without Mynea, nights had grown longer, and the urge to bathe myself in sunlight increased. Life eternal without my love would be unbearable. Night after night I had been torn between searching for her and waiting for her to return. Somehow I had convinced myself that one evening I would awake, and she would be lying naked next to me. This single thought kept me from leaving the castle for months.

I turned away from the castle and looked at the city below. The thousands of flickering lights served as a fitting ambiance for my liberation from that woeful feeling. Of course, my preferred method of travel was flying. That night, however, I decided to simply walk. I closed my eyes and allowed my animalistic senses to guide me to my eventual destination, the ancient island of Philae. And by closing my eyes, I would dispel the darkness created by the shadow of the enormous castle, which mocked the moon. As the distance lengthened between me and the castle, its shadow faded, a shadow that kept my heart in complete darkness.

As I made my way closer to the city of Alexandria, the various sounds of the insects, rats, and other small creatures scurrying about were replaced with the chatter of people and sounds of string instruments. The rough and littered cobblestone streets forced mortals to step carefully. I, however, was able to move through the streets quite easily, and as I did, the millions of imperfections from stone to stone beneath my feet created a silent yet rhythmic tale of their own.

It was easy to walk among humans, for I wasn’t my deathly pale self, given the blood of my last victims coursing through my body. I must remember to thank all of them when I see them again.

I walked slowly around the districts until I came upon one that smelled familiar. I opened my eyes and realized I was standing in the district of al-Montaza, the land that was once my home.

Though I had often avoided al-Montaza for obvious reasons, I felt a sense of relief, a sense of belonging—or perhaps a sense of longing, yearning to be with those who loved me and whom I’d loved. I coveted companionship. Not just any companionship. I hungered for amity with those who knew me. And that desire had led me back to the living. A craving was born in me to forget the nightmare under the guise of a dream. To forget the demon under the guise of an angel. To escape my immortal self and return to the bosom of Alexandria. To forget her. To forget Mynea.

I knew and remembered very well the rule Mynea spoke of regarding reaching out to my mortal family. I simply didn’t care. I burned to see
my mother and father, whom I hadn’t seen in decades. I wanted to see Shani, my sister, whom I’d missed tremendously.

It was late when I arrived at my father’s home. Grass had grown over my mother’s once well-kept garden. The lawn was overgrown, as were the shrubs and bushes surrounding the house. Ivy grew untamed over the outside walls of the house. Several ant mounds had erupted around the yard. As for the house itself, it was dark, with the exception of soft candlelight coming from my father’s study. I used my mind to scan the thoughts of all who were present. Indeed, my mortal parents still occupied this home. I listened while my father read to himself. The book was of no significance. What was important was what happened next.

He stopped suddenly, stood, and looked out the window. Of course, I didn’t allow him to see me, but he knew someone was watching. My father was always protective of my mother and sister. He hardly slept when I was a child, always on edge and ready for anything that posed a threat to his family. Once his query was satisfied, he would return to doing whatever he was engaged in. This time, he remained at the window unusually long.

I could hear the steady breathing of my mother in the next room. She was fast asleep. I listened for a second steady breath but found none. I couldn’t sense my sister. Shani wasn’t in my father’s home this night.

Aknon stepped away from the window and returned to his chair. He continued reading. I didn’t want him to see me just yet. However, I desperately needed to see my mother. I entered without making a sound through an open upstairs window. Swiftly I proceeded to their bedroom, where I found the door slightly ajar. I walked in and closed it all the way without making the slightest noise. I stood still and read my father’s thoughts again. He was undisturbed.

I looked at my mortal mother sleeping. She had changed. She was older and looked sickly. I began to feel sorrow. The room was tidy, small, and quaint—as I remembered it. I could smell the mix of dirty and clean
garments behind the closed closet door. The faint stench of mildew saturated the air, too faint for mortals to detect. The walls, no longer bare, now had a figured covering on them. The colors were faded. The edges of the walls revealed where the plaster began to peel away from the wall. Dust lay beneath.

I walked over to her bedside and looked upon her. I gasped silently. I expected to see my mother sleeping peacefully. I had expected to see a slightly aged yet still beautiful Camilia lying before me in my mother’s bed. But what I saw was what was left of my mortal mother after some disease had stolen her youth. She had dark rings around her sunken eyes. Her lips were cracked and pale. I could hear her unsteady and unsure heart beating. My eyes were lying to me, and only by touching her could I escape their deceit.

I extended my cold right hand, touched her forehead, and she flinched uncomfortably under it. The eyes rolled beneath the lids, but she did not open them. Her eyebrows twitched slightly, conveying her discomfort. She inhaled deeply through her parched lips, making a sucking sound. The outline of her body beneath the thin canary cotton cover went from small to smaller. Her entire body tensed as she withdrew into herself. If I had kept my frigid touch upon her head, she would have awakened. I didn’t want this to happen, so I lifted my hand, and as I did, she exhaled, releasing the stress I had brought.

Suddenly I heard the door swing open and crash into the wall. Quickly I melted into the shadows of the room just beyond the sight of Aknon, where I remained perfectly still. I witnessed my father surveying the room with his gun. I had lost connection with his thoughts, distracted by the sight of my mother’s deteriorating condition. He must have felt a presence in the room and blindly charged in. Though he couldn’t see me, he remained steadfast. Aknon, the protector. His eyes probed, his pupils dilated, drawing on the faint light. His head turned in unison with the barrel of the shotgun. He strained his ears for the slightest sound. They would hear nothing unnatural. They didn’t sense me. Notwithstanding the temporary annoyance of my father’s buckshot, I couldn’t let him see me this way.

He lowered his guard as he turned his attention to my mother, who
was still asleep in the bed. He walked over to her bedside, almost standing in the very spot where I had stood. He lit the lamp next to her on the small wooden chest.

Forty-two years had taken its toll on my father. Though his heartbeat was still strong, his outward appearance told a different tale. His once jet-black hair was now a silvery-blue mane that nearly reached his shoulders. His skin had lost its color, and his bone structure was much more pronounced than before. Hair escaped the confines of his nostrils and ears, and his facial hair was a mess, suggesting a man who had more important matters to confront. My father’s nails were uneven and long, though clean. These changes may seem understandable and accurately representative of the elapsed years; however, my family had always been noted for looking far younger than their true age. My father looked as though he was in his late nineties or more, not the ripened age of eighty-six.