Aleron: Book One of Strigoi Series (Stringoi Series) (27 page)

Well into the night I dreamed. Pandora and Eliza had left and returned, and into where I lay, they came. Careful not to wake me, even though I was well aware of their presence in that state, they placed my meal, a mortal woman, in the far corner of the room. The woman turned out to be much more than just dinner.

My eyes fully opened, and I turned without delay in the direction of her heartbeat. The woman stood, as did I. Completely naked, she began to walk carefully in my direction. This human woman was an exquisite specimen—dark, shoulder-length hair, brown eyes slightly slanted as if she had more than a touch of Mongol blood coursing through her veins. Her nose was perfectly proportionate to her face and mouth, and her lips full with luster and life.

Her thoughts told me her name was Sinaa, and she had been brought for my pleasure. I was obliged. I opened my arms to embrace her. As she stepped into my grasp, her body instantly flinched at my shockingly cold and hard touch. She relaxed, resting her warm, succulent breast upon me. Her hands began to explore my body, seemingly warming with anticipation and sheer desire for what was to come. She caressed my chest in a slow downward motion, ultimately finding my stomach and, alas, a slightly erect penis.

“Mmmmm,” she whispered to me. I see you’re more alive than your cold touch would suggest, my lord. Allow me to warm your blood and grow your interest.”

I knew she was under Pandora’s spell when she spoke. She kept her hand on my penis, rubbing, pulling, wanting it to respond to her call. Her touch didn’t interest me as much as her heartbeat. I began to kiss her
neck, and I felt her pulse through my tongue. Her heartbeat intensified as my penis began to respond to the blood meal soon to come.

“Ahh, yes, my lord. There you are. How wonderful you’ll feel—”

While she was in midsentence, I pierced her neck with surgical precision. I didn’t want her dead, at least not at the moment. Her warm plasma flowed through my body as she continued to feverishly stroke me. I laid her on her back, without removing my lips from her neck. She inserted me inside her warm soul. I drank ever so slowly in an effort to prolong her inevitable fate. I wanted to give her pleasure before I took her last breath. And so we were bound. Surreal visions of my intimate encounters with Pandora and Eliza plagued my mind. On her back she curled her legs around my body, thrusting me farther inside while maintaining the rhythm of the carnal symphony. Her breathing was no longer steady; the warm nectar continued to escape her body. Her eyes were now wide open, as if the feeling of pleasure and pain was too much for her soul to bear. She gave a cry as I felt her vagina squeeze intensely. She gripped me tighter. Her body shook uncontrollably, and though she tried to push me away to ease the stimulation, I continued to drain her. Her heartbeat began to subside.

It was time for me to retreat from my meal and from her body. I withdrew myself from between her thighs, still pulsating from ecstasy. Intercourse was secondary. I stood to my feet as her arms now lay at her sides. She was still looking up at me, too weak to speak. Her breathing slowed to a crawl as her eyes lost their glow. They now stared into nothingness. I whispered, “You indeed kept your word, Sinaa. I’m warm.” And with that I left the room, knowing her end would come soon after. This, however, was where I was misled, for when I left Sinaa as an offering for Hades, Eliza entered the room.

I sensed Eliza in the room. However, before I could turn around, Pandora took me into her arms and began kissing me. I returned her kiss.

“I can smell Sinaa’s scent all over you. She served you well. She was just the beginning, my love,” she whispered to me. “She must now prepare her gift for you as only she can give.”

I knew what Pandora meant! I knew then what they had been conspiring to accomplish. With Pandora still in my arms, I returned to the
room where I had left Sinaa to die. Sinaa was alive and sucking from Eliza’s bosom.

The mortal corpse had come back for an offer of immortality from my child. I stood still as Eliza’s eyes rolled in ecstasy until they found mine. They stayed affixed on me as she continued to allow Sinaa to drink.

“Careful, my dear,” Pandora said to Eliza. “She’ll drain you completely if you allow her to.”

Eliza pulled Sinaa away from her breast and released her. Sinaa’s head fell back against the floor as her body began to violently twitch. I walked to Eliza and picked her up.

“My child, what have you done?”

“She’s for you, my love. She’s for us.”

CHAPTER 23

he next several weeks came and went as Eliza tended to her fledgling. Pandora paid close attention to Sinaa’s tutelage, while guiding Eliza as she always had. I remained intrigued yet withdrawn from the happenings within my own house. I was anguished by the thought of losing my mortal mother. How selfish of me, I thought, for she lost me long ago, and I cared nothing for her loss, until then. When I was near, I could feel the life force of my mother barely clinging to this world. I couldn’t help but feel she was holding on for a reason. That reason would be Shani, my mortal sibling.

As Pandora and Eliza continued their assault on the innocent and wicked alike, I, again, journeyed to Alexandria, to my father’s home in al-Montaza. The night was crisp and cool, with flurries of snow entangled with the wind. I stood behind my father’s home just beyond the large oak several yards away. From this distance I could sense my father and mother sleeping—she in her bed, he, ever watchful, in a chair slumped over his shotgun, which lay across his knees. All was usual until
I felt the presence I hadn’t felt in decades. There, approaching from the east toward Aknon’s home, was his daughter, my sister, Shani.

It was early evening, yet on that chilly night the streets were barren. Shani struggled with a suitcase while her free hand held her wool coat tightly at the neck. I remained in the shadow resisting the urge to assist. Her mind invited me in without her acknowledgment. Worry and fatigue filled her thoughts: worry for our parents, for me, and for another young boy. Shani had a child. Her reflection of his whereabouts was distinctly unfamiliar to me, a home of foreign design, unlike any that surrounded us, different from any I’ve seen in Europe and Northern Africa. I concluded her son was in the Americas, a land distant and obscure, a continent I wouldn’t come to witness until much later.

I heard Shani’s key enter the lock and release its hold. Aknon sprung from the chair with shotgun in tow. I broke my promise at that moment and entered through the same window I had before. Shani called out, “Father? It’s me.”

The door closed behind her as she continued past the kitchen and into the narrow staircase. While she climbed the stairs, her eyes met the eyes of our father who stood at the top. Wearing only pants and holding the gun, now at his side, he reached out for Shani with his empty hand. She joined him at the top of the stairs and, with a sigh, they embraced.

“I am so glad it’s you, Shani,” Aknon said tearfully. He then dropped the shotgun onto the thick rug lying at the top of the stairs.

“Are you all right, Father?” asked Shani.

“Don’t mind me, child. My knees are not as strong as they once were, and that shotgun has become awfully heavy.”

“There, there, Father,” Shani said softly. “What enemies do you still have that you would greet your daughter with your gun? One that’s almost as old as she?” A smile played on her lips as she leaned back and looked into Aknon’s face, her arms still around his waist.

“Shani,” Aknon said lovingly. “Please come into the room. She wants to see you.”

Aknon, led by my sister, entered the room. I remained perfectly still at the opposite end of the hallway. No one had the slightest intimation of my presence.

Shani gently assisted Aknon to his chair, which faced the bed. Then she walked over to her mother’s bedside. Her pulse quickened as her eyes fell upon our mother. I could see my mother through her eyes. Shani and Aknon knew death was upon her. Shani sat on the bed, facing my mother, and took her hand into her own. With the back of her other hand, Shani caressed our mother’s face. Sorrow enveloped my sister as my mother began to subtly move. My mother opened her eyes and stared at her daughter. A tear escaped its crevice. My mother opened her mouth and said weakly through badly cracked lips, “Where have you been, child?” Aknon’s eyes opened wide in disbelief, for it had been months since my mother had spoken.

“I’m here, Mother,” Shani replied as she raised our mother’s hand and kissed it. “I’m here.”

My mother tried to smile, but her face would only allow a strange and malformed smirk to surface. Her eyes were veiny and red, brimming with tears. Suddenly, her breath became frantic and short. Aknon swiftly lifted himself out of the chair, sat on the opposite side of the bed, and grabbed his wife’s left hand. I left my post for a final glimpse at my mother’s life.

Though I stood in the doorway of the room, Aknon and Shani were still unaware of me. A moment later my mother gasped for air and slowly blinked. When her eyes opened, they were affixed on me! She desperately tried to speak, but no words escaped her mouth. The air in her lungs faded, and her gaze lost focus. Shani covered her face with both hands and began to sob as Aknon burrowed his head into my mother’s bosom. I stood still, watching her soul escape its fleshy prison and return to the memory of its origin. A muffled and torturous sound came from my father as he, too, cried into the quilt covering my mother’s body. I also felt grief. It was strange. I didn’t feel sorrow for my mother dying; I felt sadness for the affliction I had caused her. As quickly and silently as I entered, I departed.

In those days, it was customary to bury the dead within one day of the death, so I returned after two days to say what I hadn’t said to my mother when I became lost to her. And as I stood over her grave within an empty graveyard, I gave my final word to the snow and wind to carry into her faded vital force: “Goodbye.”

The hour was late and the townspeople had retreated into their respective homes, with the exception of a few who remained chatting in the square and one who meandered slowly alone along a path that I myself had frequented on many occasions as a boy. This lone dove was my sister, grieving for the loss of our mother. I fought with myself regarding whether to speak to her or to simply remain a dead memory from her childhood. With quick deliberation, the brother in me chose.

I waited until Shani was virtually alone. I then appeared around the next corner she would turn. Her footsteps grew louder and louder until I heard a startled gasp of fright caused by the unexpected realization of a stranger leaning against the wall.

“Excuse me, my lady,” I said while avoiding direct eye contact. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s quite all right,” she replied while catching her breath. Shani then began walking again. Suddenly she stopped as if she wanted to turn and speak. I remained still. I heard her think,
He seems familiar
. However, caution overruled her query, and she began walking again.

I am familiar
, I replied back to her mind.