Page 35 of Last Hope
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That night, they all went into town; The Whacky Family, Anya, and Isis. It felt so good to get off of the perimeter and see other people in the small village near the woods. She had been dying for social contact, to see people and not be surrounded by trees; otherwise she would beat herself bloody from boredom.
They walked to town, the kids racing ahead of everyone with excitement. Apparently, these visits occurred but once in a blue moon. It had been Riordan’s idea, of course. Ami had argued profusely. Isis suspected she feared being seen by members of her old coven, feared that they would take her children away.
The night before when Isis had sat in the library with both Anya and Ami, they had spoken about the coven and their rules. The conversation shifted to Ami’s kids.
Isis had learned that Ami, shortly after leaving had met Riordan in the woods where they had fallen in love and built the cabin together. They hadn’t planned on separating themselves completely from society until Ami had given birth to Othello. Isis had found it odd she would worry over one child and not the other, but she quickly learned why.
“Othello inherited witch powers,” Ami said gravely. “If the Moon Coven were to find out, they would forcefully take him from me and either use him to breed powerful witches or study him. I will not let my child suffer at the hands of the Moon Coven.”
Boys inheriting witch powers was unheard of and Isis suddenly had a better understanding of why Ami took such precautions and hadn’t wanted Isis in her home. She was merely doing what was best for her family; much like Antonio and Esmeralda had done by abandoning her.
Those thoughts fell away from her as they entered a small town. It was late evening, so it was almost deserted, only a few cars driving around here and there; stores had just begun to close. Ami gave a warning look to Isis before wandering off after her kids. Isis rolled her eyes and told Anya she was going to go find an internet café and that she’d catch her later.
The internet café was still open, lucky for Isis. The owner indicated she should sit at whatever computer she wanted. She did and turned it on quickly, eagerly hoping that Antonio or Esmeralda had sent her an email.
It took ages for the computer to load and the internet to pop up. Isis tapped the table impatiently until the internet finally opened. She typed in the website that would open her email account. The homepage came on the screen and she went to click on her email when the title of the homepage caught her eye.
“Breaking News: Fire in the Santiago Mansion.”
Isis’s breath caught in her lungs. There was a video accompanying the article. She clicked on it and waited nervously as it loaded. It buffered, then played. She placed her earphones on and watched in horror as the news reporter stood in front of what Isis recognized as Santiago Mansion.
“I’m here in front of the Santiago Mansion, owned by vampire Marco Santiago. You may know him as the inventor and distributor of the Synthetic Blood for vampires. Only hours ago, the building spontaneously combusted. Firefighters are struggling to put the fire out and to save the vampires inside. Many of the occupants whom they’ve gotten out have been reported dead by the paramedics.”
The camera zoomed towards the once beautiful mansion, now engulfed in flickering, angry flames that shot up towards the night sky.
“The victims have yet to be identified,” the reporter kept saying, but Isis stopped listening. She paused the video and felt the air rush out of her lungs in a panic.
The mansion that had been her home for years had caught fire. People whom she knew were dying; they were trapped within that house,dying. Fury and fear grasped her heart and squeezed. She knew that fire had not been an accident. It had been set purposefully by Caesareon’s minions, possibly by her own brother, in an attempt to bring her out of hiding or to kill anyone that had ever associated with her before.
Tears that she had held back for so long fell from her eyes and onto the keyboard as she opened her email account and searched through her contacts. When she found the one she was looking for, she clicked on it and began typing with lightning fast fingers as if that would take the pain away, as if that would take the heartbreak away, as if that could go back in time and save her friends.
“Antonio,” she wrote, “I just saw what happened at the mansion. Is your father okay? Is your sister? I need answers. Do you know the names of the people who’ve died? Please reply, I have to know if anyone’s okay.”
* * *
“Sir,”Azizi turned with a triumphant smile on his face. “Sir, we have located Caesareon’s murderer.”
“Where is she?” He was finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.
“She just sent out an email and our hacker is tracking the IP address. He believes she’s in Romania.”
Azizi smiled from ear to ear. Finally, he had found her. And he would make her pay for her crimes against his Master. “Track her down. Kill anyone that stands in your way.”
* * *
Her throat felt tight,closed with emotion. So many faces appeared in her mind, faces of old lovers, of friends, of family. Marco and Maria, vampires that she had known for years since she had moved there and she had no idea if they were alive or dead.
And she suspected it was all because of her. Because Caesareon’s followers were still after her. She put her face in her hands helplessly. Tears began to prickle at the back of her eyelids. Emotions so overwhelmingly strong threatened to suffocate her, she hadn’t even noticed someone walk into the room with her until a cough pulled her back to reality.
She looked up to see Othello regarding her with solemn eyes, his head tilted to the side curiously. Isis sniffled and wiped away the tears that fell impatiently. She didn’t want anyone to see her cry. Not even the child.
“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Isis asked.
Othello nodded. “Yes,” he said simply then continued to stare at her.
His gaze made Isis shift uncomfortably. Like he was staring not just at her appearance but he was looking through her and into her for a long moment. “Something bad happened,” he said, his voice the eerie calm of his mother. Isis stared. “I can tell because of your aura.”
