Chapter 15 Rowan #3
I could cry. I didn’t, but there was an undeniable lump in my throat.
These meals represented the love I’d felt as a child.
The open arms of my adoptive parents, who never once cared that I was whiter than the bones of their dead unless they were defending me from others who meant to hurt me because of that.
But it also reminded me of Ibrahim. Unlike me, he was a nightwalker from the desert, the one who had found me as I was bleeding out. I could still see the way he walked to me so perfectly, impossibly beautiful and yet somehow intimidating, perhaps even threatening at the same time.
“You are dying, Ya Bhai.”
I’d been cold, so cold, an unusual thing for the hot area where we lived, my supplies taken but my weapon still gripped in my hand.
It had been lawless raiders that had overwhelmed me, but I took satisfaction in the ten or so other bodies strewn around me.
I had an arrow in my chest, but the real sucking, draining sensation came from the wound across my middle.
I felt a gentle touch on my hand, and it brought me back to the present.
“Are you okay?” Naomi asked.
“I am,” I affirmed, albeit somewhat shakily. “Just reminiscing about my sire.”
“Your sire’s name was Ibrahim, right?”
I nodded, throat thick.
“Do you want to tell me about him?”
Did I? For some reason, I wasn’t sure. “You don’t want to hear about all that,” I said out of habit, because I was used to boring people whenever I talked more than five minutes straight.
Naomi gazed at me with that open, interested expression she wore whenever I talked about my job, music, or other passions. Hell, she’d even worn it when I’d told her Brahm’s gotcha story. And it never once, not even for a single second, seemed fake.
“But I do, Rowan. If you want to tell me, I do want to know. And if you’re not ready, that’s okay too.”
This woman was too good to be true.
“If you’re sure.”
“I am.”
I had no desire to refuse her, and actually, I was relieved. When was the last time I talked about the man who had influenced my formative years as a vampire?
Too long.
Even though sometimes it felt like there was an aching hole in my chest just waiting for a stake in my sire’s wake, thinking about him brought another wave of amazing memories.
Traveling the world with him, meeting people from all over, learning things a random orphan from Greece was never meant to learn.
I trained with expert fighters who knew ancient techniques as well as modern ones.
I fought battles to protect the weak and listened to thousands of performances that still moved me to this day.
“He was posing as a merchant when he first traveled to our area. It wasn’t common for us to get anyone traveling along our farm, as we were far enough from the main road to town, but he showed up and asked for lodging for the night.”
“Really? Did you know he was a vampire then?”
“Not at all. He showed up just after sundown and left only a few hours later. I remember Suleman insisting he stay for the night, as traveling after dark was dangerous in the regions to the northeast with bandits, raiders, natural predators, and defectors of the British occupying forces who had decided to terrorize the local population instead of doing their duty to their country. But he assured us he would be fine, thanked us for our hospitality, then offered to pay double the price for one of our goats. And he never said a single word about my albinism, something that never happened with the occasional guests.”
“That’s it? He didn’t try to turn you then?”
“No, not at all. While we were grateful for the extra funds since my father had passed years earlier and his estate was scavenged by his business partners, we forgot about him until he appeared the next year around the same time. He brought books with him.”
“Books, really? Like, what… The Hobbit?”
“No, that was published in 1937, but I did read it on the train in London before I immigrated here.”
“Right, of course you did.”
I could see it playing out like a movie in my mind. The many decadent robes the man wore, the expensive jewelry. By all means, that bulk should have had him moving slowly, or at least cautiously not to stain it, but he had all the grace of a cat and then some.
I also remembered how my brother and three sisters oohed and aahed over some of the finery he brought, such as incense and foreign spices, but I only had eyes for the books, and more importantly, the oud.
It had a design to it that spoke of it being far older than any person in our home, and yet it was completely flawless.
Strings tightened, polished to a high shine, the design on the front sparkling with what looked like gold, and meticulously carved patterns that reminded me of the elaborate windows I’d seen when traveling to the closest large city.
Something in me just knew that the short version of the lute was something special.
“Do you wish to play it?” Ibrahim asked, those amber eyes of his kind.
He was turned much later than I had been, gray just beginning to show at his temples.
I supposed that since it had stayed there after his resurrection, that was nature recognizing that his dashing version of salt and pepper was already perfection.
“Oh, I couldn’t.”
“You couldn’t, or you wouldn’t? These are two different things, Ya Bhai. One is ability that can be learned, and one is fear that must be conquered.”
“After that, visits became more regular. He taught all of us different languages and helped us refine our literacy, even Suleman and Palwasha, who originally said they were too old and simple. Sometimes, it almost felt like my father was back, especially when he came bearing expensive gifts we would never have access to.”
“So, he really was a family friend,” Naomi said, leaning even farther across the table, completely captivated by my story. “A patron, even?”
“Yes. We never really understood why. My brother thought maybe he was planning on trying to marry our sisters, others who knew of his presence from word of mouth or coinciding visits thought he was angling for our land.
“But the truth was—which I learned later after he turned me—after being alive so many hundreds of years, he’d done all the fun and frivolous things and had seen many times over how selfish the world could be.
To him, that was his way of rewarding kindness, as he found that the most valuable resource in the world. ”
“That’s kind of incredible. Not to be judgmental, but I’ve only met a few vampires and all of them seemed kinda…” Naomi hesitated and I got why.
“Stuck-up? Snooty? High on their own supply?”
“To put it bluntly, yeah. But it sounds like Ibrahim used his immortality and gift to do good in the world.”
“That was his main tenet. He wanted to leave the world a better place than when he entered it. I don’t know if he ever felt he achieved that goal, but when I look back on all the incredible and kind things he did, I think so.”
Naomi squeezed my hand again. “He made you, so I would agree.”
He had.
Despite everything, he had.
“You do not have to die, my young friend.”
“What do you mean?”
“One such as you is too unusual for the world to lose. I can make you whole again. There will be loss, there will be pain, but you will live on. In a sense.”
“Too unusual? Because of my curse?”
“You think something as simple as your skin is unusual? I have met many with skin of ash and bone and alabaster in my journeys. No, I do not mean your curse, Ya Bhai. I mean your heart.”
That was the first time anyone had ever said I was special for something other than my albinism.
He’d gone on to explain the consequences of the change while I was bleeding out, but there was only so much time.
I had agreed, of course, but I only had foggy memories of him biting me and draining my blood, then slicing his arm with one of his fangs and letting me drink deep until I no longer felt like I was going to freeze.
I’d lost consciousness soon after that, but it had been with the knowledge that I would be fixed.
Until I resurrected as luminescent as ever.
“Thank you, for listening to all of that,” I murmured, reaching for my fork. Although there was much more about that tale I could share, it was a bit too intimate, too raw for the moment.
Besides, I didn’t want the delicious meal to grow cold.
“Why don’t we dig in?”
The smile she sent me was bright enough to have me worrying about sun exposure.
Even with my muted, blood-oriented taste buds, the food flowed over my tongue in the most wonderful, savory ambrosia.
So many complex, indulgent flavors blended together, some emphasized more at the front of my mouth, others toward the back, and even more in the aftertaste.
It was heaven, if I even believed in such a thing, wrapped in warm spices and meat so tender it was quite literally falling off the bone.
I couldn’t help but wonder if said bones in the broth was making it more appetizing to me, considering the marrow was where blood cells were generated.
Even without the satiation that was supposed to come from eating, there was a deep umami and depth to the stew that was strong enough to potentially ebb an intense bloodlust. Not for a whole night, but maybe for a couple of hours.
Perhaps something to explore in the future? And then, Naomi and I could make it together. I quite liked that idea. Although I had let my scant culinary skills regress to almost nothing, I was certain that with her beside me to guide my hand, we would make a winning dish.
It was complicated, for sure, a wolfless wolf dating a colorless vampire, but I was tasting the proof that it could be something glorious.
“Oh! The wine!” Naomi blurted out of nowhere.