CHAPTER ONE
He hurried through the semi-crowded market place. As soon as he had arrived he'd known he was far too late and as soon as he saw them-the wares arranged in a line for display-his suspicions were confirmed. These were the measley ones of the lot. The one's no one ever wanted. The left behind. He ran his eyes over them trying to find any redeeming pysical qualities but there were none. But he couldn't return empty-handed, he thought in despair. He had been given a direct order to find a pet for the master's son TODAY and it was very unlikely that the master would be pleased at his failure. He ran his eyes over the line again. That's when he noticed it. It had been looking directly at him but had lowered it's eyes and bowed it's head as soon as it noticed him noticing it. He walked up to it, examining it closely without touching. It had chocolate colored skin which hung over bones that stuck out as if it hadn't had a good meal in days, it's hair was in tangles as if it hadn't been brushed in days and it didn't even smell clean. There was absolutely nothing attractive about it and yet he felt drawn to it-that this should be the one he chose.
As if the show of actual interest was what he'd been waiting for, a man appeared out of nowhere. He was the trader and after a few minutes of bargaining for a price that would please both of them, money was exchanged, a rope was slung around the neck of his purchase and he led it away, hoping against hope that he wouldn't get any hell for having bought this completely unattractive human.
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6 days Earlier...
I stood behind the door of the living room listening to the conversation within:
"So there is no hope for her?" my aunt was asking the old family doctor. Dr. Grey.
"I'm afraid not," he replied, sighing heavily. He couldn't have been enjoying his position as the bringer of bad news. "Her illness is a degenerative one and her health will continue to deteriorate unless..." His voice trailed off. Unless what? I wondered impatiently. I dislike when people start to say something but never finish.
Aunt Adele, God bless the woman, asked the question. "Unless what, Lionel? I would do anything not to see her suffer so. If there is any hope that her condition could be improved please tell me!"
Dr. Grey sighed again like he was wishing he hadn't hinted at anything.
"I was going to say 'unless you had money to obtain some vampire blood'Vampire blood has amazing healing properties when given in the right dosage. But I remembered your financial circumstances and I must tell you Vampire blood is very dear."
I could imagine my aunt wringing her fingers as she said in a desperate tone "But surely Lionel, there must be some way you could get your hands on some for us. I promise to pay you back given time. I cannot bear to hear her crying out in pain every night. Please I beg you--"
"I'm sorry Adele. I wish I could help but not only is it hard to come by, even I cannot afford to spend such a sum. My family and I--"
"I know, I understand," replied my aunt "but I had to ask. I don't know what else to do" At this point there were some sounds coming from the living room that sounded suspiciously like sobs. I wanted to cry myself. Everything I'd just heard was so depressing. No hope. Those were the words ringing through my ears. They weren't said but they were implied. Dami had no hope, no chance of recovery because we had no money. No funds. I hated being poor (ofcourse no one exactly loves the idea of being poor) What I meant is that I hated being poor especially when I had a distant but very real memory of being surrounded by comfort. Never knowing a moment of want.
I walked slowly to Dami's room and sat by her bedside looking down at her. She was so out of it. Her brow furrowed in her restless sleep, sweat on her brow. I hate being around sick people, it depresses me no end but for Dami, I'd do anything. I was there when she was born and I'd always wanted a sister. She was the closest thing I'd ever come to having one and I loved her so much. As I looked down at her gaunt little face, a plan formulated in my mind. I brought out my cell, dialled a number and made some arrangements with the person on the other end. That night I put my plan into action.
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The Present...
To the naked eye, it was two guys dressed in black shorts and white tees passing a green blur back and forth with their rackets. The green blur was ofcourse a tennis ball moving at super speed due to the strength exerted by each guy on the ball. They'd been through three balls so far since the beginning of the game because the material of the balls could only take so much punishment. Loud booms were heard everytime a racket connected with the ball and it sounded like a mini explosion.
One of them noticed an older man dressed in a blue polo shirt and tan trousers approaching them from the left side of the court and stopped the game by catching the ball hurtling towards him in one hand.
"It's good to see my sons doing something together for once," said their father when he'd reached them "please, don't stop on my account."
Hassan, the one who'd caught the ball snorted hanging a small towel round his neck as he approached his dad and brother on the other side of the net. His brother, Brian was zipping his racket into it's case, his expression closed off as it always was in the presence of their father Hassan noticed sadly. If only Father won't push Brian so hard and Brian wasn't so goddamned stubborn...
"What do you want, father?" Brian finally asked rudely after taking a swig out of a bottle. Hassan wanted to gape at his brother's daring. Nobody spoke to the reigning prince like that and lived to tell the tale. Well nobody except Brian. Apparently.
Prince Hakeem narrowed his eyes at his insolent son. The boy was carefully not looking at him busying himself with his gym bag. This is who was supposed to be heir to his throne. This insolent brat. Hakeem didn't know what to do with Brian anymore. Over the centuries he'd been steadily getting worse, indulging himself as if he didn't have a care in the world besides having fun. Hakeem had debated with himself on what could bring his boy to heel and had finally come up with an idea.
"I have a gift for you, Brian." He said. Both boys looked at him like as if he'd said cows could fly. He smiled to himself. His son was in for a surprise.
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