Page 20 of My Master
“Maria,” Antonio warned. He didn’t want her to get off of the subject.
“Oh, right, sorry, anyway, she told me: ‘I need as much time as possible if I’m going to be digging deep into the roots of the past…’ or something like that. I only just remembered because of what you said, actually, Ezzy!” She smiled widely at Esmeralda, whose cheeks colored pink. “I’m not sure if that’s enough to go on, though.” She frowned and looked at her brother.
“It’s a start,” he said simply. “Thank you.”
“But, what does that mean?” Esmeralda scratched her head. “‘Digging deep into the roots of my past…?’”
“Well, she’s a vampire,” Maria offered. “And she’s been alive a long ass time, so maybe she’s revisiting where she was born when she was human. I know a lot of vampires who think about their old life. Maybe she hit one of those phases.” Maria shrugged.
Esmeralda disagreed. “I don’t think so. I know that when Isis was human she lived in Egypt, it’s her home land, I think. But other than that what else do we know about Isis’s past? She never talks about before she was changed, and once when I asked her if she’d ever go back to Egypt she said she’d rather die.”
Antonio had to agree with that. If Isis had a bad human life, he doubted she would want to go back somewhere that brought up bad memories. Besides, Egypt was a big place, what were they supposed to do? Search every inch of it until they found her?
“What if she didn’t mean anything about her human life? Like, what if she wanted to look for something that related to the times when she lived in the renaissance era? She was a servant in London, back then, you know,” Ezzy wondered aloud.
“She’s been a lot of things in her lifetime! We can’t possibly know about all of them, and much less find out anything about her past!” Antonio was growing more frustrated with each passing minute.
He was worried about Isis and wanted to find her but how could he when he knew very little about her. The shock of the truth made his head spin. He had been good friends with her for a long time, but had never bothered to ask her about her life. He realized what an awful friend he was and instant guilt overpowered him.
Esmeralda turned to Maria. “Doesn’t your dad keep files on everyone in the coven? I know he doesn’t let just anybody in. He’s sure to have information about her past lifesomewhere.”
Antonio felt the sudden urge to run up and kiss Esmeralda.Why didn’t I think of that?he wondered but washed the thought quickly away. Ezzy was asking all of the right questions and he couldn’t help but feel proud of his girl. His lips tugged up into a smile.
“Yeah, he has files on everyone in the coven.” Uncertainty dripped out of Maria’s mouth. “But they’re all at Santiago Enterprises…”
Antonio let out a string of profanities. Of course, it was typical that something he needed that was actually of importance would be at the place he despised the most. It wasn’t only the fact that his father was trying to get him involved in the business, but that was the building whereithappened, where he had slit his brother’s throat and killed him.
Antonio slumped in his chair. Esmeralda eyed him thoughtfully for a fraction of a second then frowned. “It seems like we’re going to Santiago Enterprises.”
10
The ointment had worked wonders for Isis’s face. Caesareon himself had applied it to the wounds on her cheeks, ever so gently; rubbing it first on his two fingers then applying it in slow circular motions on her cheeks, carefully, like she could break at his touch. The way he did it made Isis think that he was only trying to be nice in order to gain her favor, but deep down she knew that it was all just a façade that he was putting up in the heat of the moment. He could care less about whether she liked him or hated him. Her being there was proof enough of that.
As soon as the ointment was applied, the burning sting had receded into a dull throb, crusting over completely. It had fallen off, leaving her with nothing but a small pink scar, so thin that one might have assumed she was scratched in the face by a cat.
Caesareon had wiped his fingers off on a damp towel and grabbed her face, twisting it left and right like one would a head of cabbage at a supermarket. After a moment, he smiled lightly. “All done. Now it’s time for you to bathe.”
He called in one of his vampire servants to take her away to another room, where a bath would be drawn for her. He made her werewolf attacker—still in wolf form—escort her as well. It seemed he still didn’t trust her, and that was fine by her. She didn’t want to make this easy for him; she wanted to let him know that she would put up a fight if only that meant that she could get away from him.
But as they escorted her down various hallways and many turns in different directions, she felt exhausted. She hadn’t gotten much sleep and she knew that if she tried to put up a fight she wouldn’t last two minutes, so she followed until the vampire servant girl opened a wooden door and pushed it open, gesturing Isis inside.
The room was much like Caesareon’s, with black metal torches digging into the clammy dirt walls, only this room was decorated differently; there was a full length mirror shoved into a corner, decorated with rubies and diamonds. A Japanese screen was in the middle of the room; behind it was a tub, steaming with hot water. It made Isis wonder if they had plumbing.
She shook the thought off and stepped deeper into the room, there was a table with purple candles that were lit, wax dripping down the sides and pooling onto the chipped wood, and a closet.
“You must bathe now,” the vampire said blankly. “Bathe now and someone will come and help you dress.” She left, closing the door behind her. Isis heard her slip a key into the keyhole and twist it to lock. The key wouldn’t hold her back; she knew that Caesareon had placed a guard on the other side.
Sighing and with no other choice, Isis pulled off her jeans and shirt, tossing them to the floor. She climbed into the tub, the hot water prickling against her skin. Slowly and methodically, she wiped away the dirt and grime from her body and her hair.
After finishing, Isis stood up and stepped out, letting the water fall from her body and onto the ground. She didn’t see a towel anywhere so she just stood awkwardly in the middle of the room when her reflection caught her eye. Walking close to the mirror, she took in her form; tall and fully curved in all of the right places. Her breasts were perfectly round and firm, as were her thighs and her wide hips. Isis had always been proud of her figure, it was a figure that made men swoon and wish for more—which, mostly, she ignored—but now, looking at herself, seemed odd.
She looked different from how she used to. Her long straight black hair hung in limp knots over her shoulders, her soft eyes were no longer their usual color, but were rimmed red with hunger. There were ugly purple bags underneath her eyes, her otherwise dark skin had grown pale, and her veins had blackened, looking like ink on paper.
A soft laugh sounded behind Isis. Well, not exactly a laugh, she thought, more like a cackle. She turned to the door, where a vampire woman had walked through, shutting it behind her and placing an iron key inside of her breasts.
Isis recognized her immediately; she had seen her many times before, always flanked behind Caesareon, panting after him like a puppy with no owner.
The candlelight glow cast flickering shadows across her white skin. Her hair was black but cut in a short bob around her face. Bangs curled just above her perfectly clipped eyebrows and her eyes flashed red. The vampire’s lips were that same red, not makeup—Isis knew—but something else, something that was thick and rich and smelt tangy and sour, but delicious all the same. Blood.
