Page 31 of My Master
“You got a picture of this man?” Victoria asked.
Savvy typed in something else then shook his head. “No picture, no identification, he paid in cash. There’s no cell phone, address, and no P.O. Box that I can find. He doesn’t appear in any of the systems, he hasn’t purchased anything else—under that name—it’s like he doesn’t even exist.”
“Which means that this is a fake identity, and the one who purchased the factory is probably really Caesareon, gathering his armies there to end humanity.” Victoria ran a hand through her blonde curls. “Our job just got a lot harder, Terrance.” He only nodded, still observing the screen.
“So, does this mean we’re all going to go to the factory?” Antonio asked eagerly.
“No,” Victoria said sternly. “We are. You aren’t.”
15
She figured she would die at the hands of the devil, but not without fighting to survive first. She had asked herself time and time again why she would die standing, rather than live the rest of her life on her knees, at his mercy, when it seemed like there was nothing else left for her to live for.
Her family was dead and gone, she had been his slave for years; she had no one. Yet still, she kept fighting for freedom. It was all she knew, all she could do to keep that part of herself that was still her; that still remained from her old life in Egypt.
Then she found the coven, although she was never really a part of it, never really belonged; and it wasn’t until Antonio had crept into her life, filling her heart with what little joy he could. She felt a new light shine; and then Damien brought Esmeralda in. Where Antonio was that little ray of light, peeking between closed in trees, Esmeralda was the blinding sun, just the way she remembered it in her home land.
The girl was a duplicate of the brother she remembered. Stubborn and crazy, someone who wanted adventure and found danger at every turn, whether they wanted to or not. And for once, Isis found something that was actually worth fighting for.
The girl had given her a reason to go on.
She thought of Esmeralda as Demetria prepared her for battle. She was dressed up in gear, a dark red outfit, belted at the waist. She had long brown boots that were laced up tightly with black laces; her hair was in a simple ponytail on top of her head. Demetria was buttoning up Isis’s heavy leather armored jacket, her face a mask of anger that she didn’t even bother to try and hide.
“Where are we going?” Isis asked curiously.
Demetria finished buttoning the top button and snickered. “Seems our Master doesn’t bother to tell you everything, right?”
For some reason, her tone annoyed Isis. “Oh, he tells me plenty, mostly during our sweet little pillow talk.” Normally, she would have never even considered voicing the idea that she and Caesareon were intimate on such a level, but she knew that it would bother Demetria to no end.
And it did. Demetria clenched her fists, her face had gone a paler shade of white, her eyes flared that angry crimson color. Instead of insulting her, though, Demetria sucked in a breath then let it out again, slowly and replied, “He wishes to issue our first decree of attack on a supernatural hate group in the city, as a warning of what’s to come.”
Isis bit her bottom lip. She had heard of anti-supernatural groups, had seen a few protesting outside of S.E., but never before had she bothered with them. To her, they were just another stupid racist group of ignorant fools. She could understand why they would start there. It was a way to get out a message to the humans and supernaturals alike. It was a message that said “I will kill all those who stand against me,” it was a message that was likely to strike fear in the hearts of others, making them much easier to control.
“So how does he plan on doing this?” Isis asked, determined to get as much information as possible. She didn’t want to blindly rush into anything probably as much as she didn’t want to just help Caesareon. She figured she’d be under his control the entire time, even prepared for that possibility.
“He will explain it all to you before we get there.” Demetria turned her back to Isis and sauntered over to the large closet, pulling out clothes from a drawer. It was a tough looking red material, similar to Isis’s.
Without embarrassment, Demetria began peeling her clothes off until she stood there naked, the flames from the torches illuminating her pale skin in an eerie glow. She began to dress in a suit that was a replica of Isis’s; even the boots were exactly the same.
“We are all required to wear uniforms,” Demetria stated.
Isis simply nodded and looked around the dim room. “So, where’s Caesareon?” Not that she wanted to see him, of course, but it gnawed at her suspicions whenever he wasn’t near her. It made her feel like he was up to something. But then again, Caesareon was always up to something and by now that shouldn’t have been a surprise.
Demetria narrowed her gaze. “You will address him as ‘Master’ or ‘my Lord,’ understand?”
“I’ll do whatever I damn well please,” Isis retaliated. She was sick of Demetria and her ‘high and mighty’ shit. Isis hated Caesareon and Demetria just needed to accept that fact, get over her anger, and move the hell on. Why it seemed to be so difficult for her was beyond Isis. She was tempted to slap the girl but knew that notwhing good would come out of that. She recalled the werewolf incident and forced back a shudder.
“Why can’t you just follow the rules? Why can’t you be just like everybody else, Isis? Why must you be so difficult? I do not understand you…” Demetria demanded from between clenched teeth.
“You’re asking me why I’m not like the rest of Caesareon’s followers…”
Demetria’s eyes flared and she nodded.
For a moment Isis was filled with rage but it quickly diminished into sadness, and she wanted nothing more than to make Demetria understand what she felt, the bone deep need she felt to have control over her own life.
“I will not become a puppet on his strings, Demetria. He may mean the world to you but he has stolen everything from me. He took everything I have, things that are irreplaceable and I do not intend to follow that monster.” She felt her eyes tearing up but blinked away the tears. She didn’t want to seem weak, especially in front of her.
Demetria shook her head back and forth. “If you were wise, Isis, you would see that it is easier to be guided.”
