NightFall: Book One: Bloodlust Is the Cure for the Immortal Soul (22 page)

“Anyone
care
for a drink?”
offered Van, giving Saldivar a furtive glance.

Saldivar smiled at Van, indebted for the favor. Sometimes a vampire couldn’t help zoning out and solely focusing on one thing: drinking blood.
Never harming the other person in the process, however.
As strong as Saldivar was, bloodlust was still a worthy opponent.
Especially when it came to the Eternal Entity.

There were some upsides to being a vampire: everlasting life. No sickness.
Superhuman abilities.

But like with everything in this world, there had to be a downside.
A yin with the yang.
Shadows in the light.

One thing Saldivar did miss was the sunrise. A vampire could never again appreciate the sun coming up over the horizon.
Or how the warmth of the rays beaded down on your skin.
And you couldn’t stay in one place too long lest you be discovered. Everyone aged.

But with anything in life, you have to take the bad with the good. Perfection was only a dream you could never reach.

Saldivar was elated that Van had the decency to read his mind and snap him out of his trance before he gave himself-and quite possibly Van-away.

What in blazes had gotten into him lately?
First, that terrible poem.
Now being near Indea had him thinking of things he’s supposedly suppressed centuries ago.

Because she’s your life mate,
Van relayed to Saldivar in silence.

Saldivar couldn’t bring himself to look at Van because he knew it was all too true.

“We could use a bottle of water, pl
ease,”
Simone told Van.

Van nodded. “Please excuse us, ladies. We’ll be back in a moment.” With that, Van and Saldivar walked to a vendor on the other side of the street, which made it somewhat difficult to keep an eye on the girls. But, nonetheless, Van needed to speak with Saldivar as privately as possible, even if they were communicating telepathically. He surely didn’t need to arouse the girls’ suspicions.

They stood in line, talking silently.

Indea has really gotten under your skin,
Van assessed correctly.

I know,
Saldivar admitted.
I did not think this would happen so quickly.

How long has it been,
mon
ami
?

Too many years, Van.

That’s why you are acting this way. All of this pent up tension. Believe me, I know of your frustration.

In waiting for s
o long for Indea, I had seemed to neglect that part of myself.

And, I can safely assume, Indea has re-awakened that part of you?

Li
ke a jolt of lightning,
mon
ami
.
Saldivar sighed.
However, I can be patient. I certainly do not want to ruin my chances of being with Indea in every way.

It’ll happen, Saldivar.
Eventually.
I just thought you needed a little space to collect yourself. I know how it feels to be around an Eternal Entity that is also destined to be your life mate.

Sometimes I forget how well you know me, Van.

It is understandable. Let’s grab some water and rejoin the girls.

Saldivar nodded as he grabbed a bottle of water for Indea.

*

Zane lurked in the shadows, Blending or going Invisible when the need called for it.

So,
he thought to himself.
Indea and Simone are the Eternal Entities? Well, if Van and Saldivar are thinking of transforming them, they have another think coming.

Zane perused Sald
ivar and Van’s mind openly and leisurely. He had absolutely no reason to be burdened with the thought of either one of those two neophyte weaklings knowing of him in their heads, reading every detail. He was over two thousa
nd years old, r
eborn to father
A
rathoseous
when the years were still in the single digits.

Arathoseous, the most powerful nightwalker ever to grace the planet, saw fit to change Zane into a vampire like himself. He was the only living vampire Zane has ever heard of. To this day, Zane was still unsure of Arathoseous’ origin.

Was he born a vampire? Or was he made? It was still a mystery to Zane. One, he figures he will never have the privilege of knowing.

Zane also knew Arathoseous was a raging force to be reckoned with.
Too powerful to be crossed.
Even by Zane himself.

Zane was born in the
B.C.
era
to overprotective and easily frightened parents. In turn, he developed into a helpless and meek little boy. He was constantly strong-armed by boys his age who were bigger and stronger than he.

He remembered many times he had come home with a bloody nose or black eyes or a bruised body and telling his parents in detail what had transpired.

Zane wasn’t the least bit surprised when his parents did nothing. They only told him to run the other way or just do what he was told and he wouldn’t be beaten.

Run. Zane snorted in pure contempt. That’s all his parents ever did at the first sign of trouble. Run. Run and hide. Escape from anything or any one that posed a threat. Afraid of their own shadows, they were.

What disheartened him in the beginning, like his parents never taking up for him, made him stronger later in life.

What his parents were, he would not become. Where they were powerless and scared, he would work to become more self assured, more aware of himself and his surroundings.

When he was old enough, Zane had worked. For hours on end, he labored like a dog. Hauling massive ston
es to wherever they were needed, h
elping to build up the city of Eldra, a place no longer known today and no longer on the maps of the modern world.

If Zane could place Eldra, he would have to guess that it would grace the southern part of France.

Zane could still picture clearly in his mind how he had grown.
All of the hard work.
All the blood, sweat and tears to become a responsible young adult to a respected man and some years later………..a feared entity.

All the back brea
king work had paid off greatly
. His body took shaped with well toned muscle.
The muscles of a passionate and skilled worker.
He wasn’t deeply sculpted from stone but his body was as strong as a
n
ox.
A body that had women casting more than a few glances and winks his way.
Not used to this kind of attention whatsoever, Zane began to relish in it.
Bathed in their laughter and flirtatious words and gestures.
He was not ashamed to admit that he took quite a few women up on their many offers.

They just couldn’t seem to be able to resist his easy charm and deep resonating voice. Or his bright gray-blue eyes or his killer smile.

After so many years of the same monotonous life, Zane felt the itch to move
on. Seek new opportunities.
N
ew job
s
.
New women.

So, moved on he did. He loved to travel. And he did so
,
on a regular basis. He saw new cities.
Tasted new foods.
Tasted new women.
He knew then that this was the life for him.
To travel and try new things.
And to never stay in one place too
long. He bored easily, so changing what he did and where he lived appealed to him greatly.

It wasn’t until he was about thirty-five years old that Zane fortuitously stumbled upon Arathoseous, who was known at that time as the Seer of All.

For some reason, Arathoseous took a liking to Zane and invited him to live and work in his palace.

Zane look
ed around, noticing the harem of
beautiful women that always seemed to be draped over Arathoseous. Zane drank in their beauty.
The flow in which their bodies moved.
It looked almost like how belly dancers would move today, given their lithe shapes.

Zane appreciated them openly in which Arathoseous was highly amused. He didn’t seem to mind this perusal of the common man. Arathoseous knew of the devotion his women had for him. They would never betray him unless they wanted to be stoned to death in the middle of the city, witnessed by all or tied to horses and then dragged across the city until they perished.

Arathoseous studied his own home through Zane’s curious eyes. He rather liked what he found inside the human’s mind.

Shock.
Envy.
Bewilderment.
He felt what Zane felt. Saw what he saw. And he could hear his every thought. He knew Zane though of his large home as a vast, open beauty. So many windows gave the palace an airy feel. No matter which window you opened, you would step into another world. Some opened into these beautiful, enchanted gardens. Others opened to either fountains or man made pools of shimmering water.

The servants were out and about doing their daily chores. Quite happily, Zane was shocked to see. They looked well taken care of.

Zane had never seen such a place. Back in Eldra, people who had servants usually beat them for the slightest mistake. Sometimes the owners would cast them out as if they were the devil himself. And they would have to leave empty handed. No money, food or family.
Just whatever rags they had on their scarred and bony backs.

Zane considered
himself
lucky never to have become a slave of Eldra. If he had, he wouldn’t have lived to see his twentieth birthday.
He would have let them kill him before he was turned into a slave. He had worked too hard to overcome the other prejudices he was faced with every day. And that was tough enough as it was.

So, Zane was now Arathoseous’ apprentice. He showed Zane the ways of the world. Taught him everything he knew.
Educated him on some of his past.
On how it was for him growing up. Though, intentionally omitting some parts in which Zane feared to question.

Zane listened to Arathoseous’ every apt word. Consumed all the lessons for which he was tutored.

Arathoseous was grooming him for greatness. He had told Zane this as they made their way through one of Arathoseous’ many gardens.

“You have come to love the life you now live and the harem
of
women you were rewarded, do you not, Zane?” Arathoseous asked, stopping in front of a flowing fountain. He put his hand into the water and watched it cascade over his fingers.

Zane looked around the place he now called home.
Looked at his harem of women lounging near a pool of water, cooling off in the heat of the sun.
“Yes. I have come to treasure everything. Every lesson I have learned from you. The wonderful friends I have made.
The women that follow me.
Satisfy me.” The corners of his mouth curved upwards in a genuine smile. “I do not think life could get any better. It is perfect the way it is.”