Page 40 of My Master
“We have newly discovered information that we wish to share with you,” Mr. Santiago said.
She raised her eyebrow, and beckoned them to go on.
They explained their theory about Caesareon controlling Isis and about how he was going to control an entire army to—more than likely—rule the world.
“Yes, but we already knew that part about him creating an army, remember? And there’s no way to prove that he’s controlling Isis, so you’re information is quite useless. Unless, of course, you’ve discovered his whereabouts or his next move, I suggest you leave because I have a lot of work to do.” She began to turn away when Antonio caught her forearm.
“Wait,” he demanded angrily.
Victoria narrowed her eyes at him. “If you do not remove your hand from my arm, I swear I’ll bite it off and shove it up your ass.”
He let her go immediately, his chest contracting against his ribcage. For a moment he was reminded of another time—in Madrid—when he had met Katheryn for the first time. She had said something surprisingly similar to him. The memory brought tears to the back of his eyelids.
“Antonio, maybe we should leave.” His father placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a light squeeze. But he didn’t want to. He couldn’t leave. He wanted to stay and help with the investigation and get Isis back so that Esmeralda wouldn’t be in pain anymore. So thatIsiswouldn’t be in pain anymore.
“He’s right,” Victoria said before turning around. “Maybe you should go.”
Antonio opened his mouth to reply but a voice spoke over him.
“I know where Caesareon is going to be tonight! He’s going to be at the Northgate mall!”
He turned.
It was Esmeralda.
18
The blood stains didn’t seem to go away. She scrubbed and she scrubbed but they remained beneath her fingernails, in her hair, it was as if it was all tattooed onto her being, irremovable. She scratched at her bare skin until she started bleeding, until shreds of skin came off. It would heal over just as quickly but she didn’t care, she wanted to scrub herself of everything. If only she could dig into her mind and claw out the memories of her murderous ways with the tips of her iron-like fingernails.
Isis had been contemplating suicide for so long now. Maybe she could expose herself in broad daylight, burn to a crisp and get it over with. But she couldn’t, she was a coward, she didn’t have what it took to get out there and kill herself. It would have been like spitting in the faces of her mother and brother. How could she so easily throw away her own life when theirs was robbed from them?
No, she was going to live. And she was going to kill Caesareon; she was going to avenge her family.
Isis hardly slept during the day anymore. She was too afraid of the nightmares that flashed behind her eyelids when she closed her eyes. Anyway, sleep never came easily. Instead, she stayed awake, in Caesareon’s bed while he slept beside her, Demetria on his other side, frozen in his day sleep.
She had wanted to kill him countless times, but she had been too afraid to do so. If she killed him, where would she go? Where could she hide? She had passed away opportunity after opportunity to slaughter him in his sleep.
The good thing was that he never suspected she was awake during that time. He always assumed she was in her day sleep, as he was.
And that had been his mistake.
Because that day, his words were meant to taunt her; and they had. He had brought up her dead brother, her dead mother. He spat at her with venom and menace and humor in his voice and they were words that she would never forget.
“I see no reason for you to mourn them.” He had said. “You have a new life, surrounded by your own kind. You are where you’re meant to be; you should rejoice. I doubt you can even remember their names. Can you Isis? Can you remember their names?”
She couldn’t.
Try as hard as she might, she couldn’t remember that. Only their faces, and even then, only the moments she had caught them in death. She couldn’t remember a time beyond the moment she had woken up. Only that she was Egyptian and that those two people, who were utterly familiar, were her family and she had killed them.
She wondered if he had taken away her memories of them, or if it was some side effect of the change.
She was gripped with rage.
She hadn’t asked for this life, she didn’t want to kill humans and she didn’t want to fight, to have their lives hanging over her head by a noose, creeping around her like a shadow.
No, she would get out of this life, she decided, if it was the last thing she did.
Isis found the bone handled knife in the room, gripping it with trembling fingers, she went over to where he lay, peaceful, beautiful, as if he weren’t a total monster who had ruined her life. She sat on top of him, straddling him. Demetria barely even stirred. This will be the last time, she thought as she raised the knife over her head. This will be the last time I see your face, and she brought the knife down in an arc motion, stabbing him just below the heart.
