4. Isidoro
Isidoro
Julian passes out eventually, but not before flashing me those sharp teeth of his and that self-destructive manic grin. I’ve never met a man as stubborn as him.
I shiver involuntarily, imagining his fate had he landed on the stakes in the trench.
If I hadn’t caught sight of him as I was gazing out of my office’s window while reading a book, he’d be dead now.
I twirl a lock of his ebony-black hair around my finger, then trace the chiseled yet somehow still delicate cut of his jaw.
I thought the exile broke him, that he was ready to fess up and beg me for mercy now that I am formally getting crowned. It should have, isolation can do funny things to one’s mind.
Clearly, I thought wrong. Julian Corvath is not an easy man to crack. Count me impressed.
I let go of his hair and drag a clawed finger along his jugular.
Was it a mistake to bring him here for the coronation?
His attendance will be a reminder to the rest of the vampire world of how great and powerful and politically benevolent the Altamirano Clan is.
I have the son of my biggest enemy in my possession, and he’s recognized me as his king, so he gets to live.
That’s the narrative. If I tamed and broke Julian, no one would dare rise against me.
It’s both an example and the perfect threat, a way to lure Andras out.
My insides twist with a mix of self-satisfaction and disappointment.
Where is Julian’s father hiding? Why can’t I locate him?
Why did Julian pose as him on the night of the Gala?
Did Andras somehow know I was coming for him?
The Crimson Crew are brutes, and as cunning as Andras might be, hiding like this is unlike him.
He must be planning something, plotting against me.
I rub my thumb against Julian’s full lips. I can’t get rid of my frustrating captive, not yet. The bloodstained ruby hasn’t blessed me with its full power and protection yet, so I need him as insurance or a bargaining chip. Just until I capture his father.
I pick up Mary Elisabeth the Second from where I placed her on the ground. Julian was planning to steal her and disappear. A growl rips out of me. I should have him chained and waterboarded just for that.
Snapping my fingers gets my three assistants to come over immediately. “Allen, Dima, clean up the brambles so the pit around the entire property is visible. I don’t want any further incidents like tonight. Samuel, take Mary Elisabeth back to her pen.”
My right hand nods his blond head. “And Mr. Corvath? Should I carry him back to his room?”
I look at the man in question, whom I’ve propped sitting against the trunk of a beech. “No need. I will handle him myself.” Glancing back at my men, I cross my arms. “Once you are done with your tasks, you are dismissed. Get some rest.”
A chorus of yesses, and then I am alone once again with my rebellious prisoner.
He looks so peaceful, almost angelic with his long black lashes fanned out across his sun-tanned cheeks and his inky hair reflecting the full moon.
If only his attitude was as pleasant as his looks, we might even get along.
The thought lingers in my mind as I scan him for injuries. The cuts are already healed, but his perpetual frown remains. He always glares at me, snarls and hisses, and truth be told, part of me enjoys it. This unwillingness to surrender, this refusal to bow down to authority.
I take to his hair again, raking my fingers through its silky texture. I like how they look there among the luscious black, though had Julian been conscious, I am sure he’d try to bite them off.
Smiling to myself, I shuffle back so I can pick him up and take him back to his room. My phone rings, halting me. I contemplate whether to answer, but I’m expecting an update from Jefferson on what progress he’s made, so I suppose I'd better take the call.
“What do you have for me?” I say, pushing up to my feet.
“Good evening, Mr. Altamirano. Or good morning,” the P.I. begins, his rumbly voice chuckling in my ear. “I hope I’m not catching you at an inconvenient moment.”
I hear chatter in the background, traffic too. He must be outside, maybe walking back home from his Los Angeles office after staying late again. “No, you aren’t. Did you find out anything new?” I press, my patience waning.
“Yes and no,” he replies as I hear a car alarm beep and a door open.
The noise disappears, but it leaves a throbbing sensation across my forehead. Or maybe it’s the fact that Jefferson is hedging, which means he probably doesn’t have much for me. “Will you spit it out already, or do you need me to come over and pull it out from you, one tooth at a time?”
He laughs nervously. “Sorry. Yes, of course. I’ll email over my report as usual, but I wanted to apologize.” Ah, so the yes wasn’t really a yes then, was it? “I followed up on the weird CCTV from his home, the one we missed originally. But it was a bust. The video hasn’t been tampered with.”
Wonderful. Another dead end.
Jefferson sighs. “I’m sorry. The techies did their best, but it’s no use.”
I let out a tiny growl as I clench my free hand into a fist. Why does this keep happening every time I think we might have a lead? This makes no sense. I glare at my unconscious hostage. What does Julian know? What is he hiding?
“Thanks, Jefferson. But next time, don’t call me unless you actually have something. Your report emailed to me will suffice.”
“Yes, of course. I apolo—”
I hang up. My head pulses like I haven’t fed in a week. This is the first time I’ve run into a wall like this. We’ve made no progress whatsoever on Andras’ whereabouts in the entirety of two months. After countless sleepless nights and thousands down the drain, we’ve still got absolutely nothing.
Just where is he?
I tuck my phone back into my pajama’s pocket and sink my claws in the beech’s bark.
Julian still looks like an angel that’s fallen from Heaven.
Beautiful but cunning. Rebellious. My stomach tightens.
I need to extract what information he has somehow, but I’m not sure my usual methods will suffice.
The exile did little other than piss him off even more.
I crouch back down and trace the ridge of his brow.
I hate to admit it, but if I was in his shoes, I would probably do the same.
I wouldn’t say a word until I had certain guarantees in place.
I thought if I broke him, he’d give in, he’d become pliant, obedient.
Tonight’s escape attempt proved me wrong.
I grind my teeth together. Andras is coming for me, I can feel it.
I’m tired of living like this, looking over my shoulder every time I leave my home.
I need to locate him and eliminate him, no matter what.
My headache intensifies. I snarl at it, but that only makes it worse. I’m out of options. If Julian knows something, I need to find out what it is.
Grumbling my dissatisfaction, I slide my arms under him and lift his limp body off the ground. His eyes snap open, determination and intent flashing in them in equal measure as one of his insanity-fed smirks stretches his mouth. Then he pushes his leg out and trips me.
It comes out of nowhere, I wasn’t expecting him to regain consciousness this quickly. I fall to my ass, ruining my crimson silk pajamas, and let go of him. He wastes no time jumping up to his feet and breaking into a sprint.
I watch him. For a few heartbeats, I simply sit on the grass flabbergasted and watch him.
My vampiric instincts heighten, the bloodlust, we as a species carry, rears its head.
Hunting your prey is a practice as old as the world, but we don’t nearly get as many opportunities nowadays.
Too many cameras, too many witnesses, too many ways for the human authorities to reconstruct what happened to the victim.
Only a few key individuals even know of our existence, and we’ve deemed it best to keep things that way for the time being.
I snarl, my blood pumping hard. I can’t resist this urge, I just…
can’t. Whether knowingly or not, this fool seems able to press all my buttons.
If he wants to play, I’ll play with him.
And if he thinks this is anything more than a game, if he believes he can actually escape after he already failed once when he had the element of surprise, he’s deluding himself.
Just like this domain belongs to me, so does he, since the night of the Gala. Like it or not.
I stand slowly and stretch, popping my shoulders and neck.
My claws are already out, and my incisors are no longer concealed.
For a few moments, I tune in to the night’s quiet, to the sway of the trees, the rustle of leaves and the gurgle of the water in the pond with the koi fish.
I can pick out Julian’s breathing as easily as if it was the only sound around me, its haphazard rhythm setting it apart from the harmonious ambiance of the sleeping nature.
My vampiric senses sharpen. Smell, hearing, eyesight. The path of his escape forms before me, a red-tinted glowing mist that meanders by the trees and the bushes in a taunting invitation.
This time I give in. I spring into action, chasing after my infuriating prisoner. I sprint through the woods, avoiding the branches and trees and obstacles as if they aren’t even there. I track his path, focusing solely on the patterns of sharp inhales and hurried exhales of my prey.
When I emerge from the forest, I smirk—he’s heading for the gates. If the guards aren’t expecting him, which is probably the case since he’s mostly behaved since I flew him in, he stands a chance. And he won’t even need to fight them if he can simply outrun them.