Blood Betrayal

Chapter Seven

Zion's father had left to conduct court. For the first time, his mother had gone along leaving Zion alone with his brothers. They had been asked to stay within the confines of the property.

Not an outrageous request as the sprawling house had all the amenities anyone could need but he had never been one to obey rules or requests. In fact, he tended to go out of his way not to obey. Doing as you're told just once might give the impression that you would do it all the time. That wasn't an impression he wanted to give.

His brothers had taken advantage of the lack of parental supervision. Usually unable to leave at the same time they had all gone to some party in the woods.

Zion was usually all about parties. There were attractive people, drugs and loud music. Everything that could dull the real world. He would have jumped on it if weren't for his older brothers. Their mere presence made the gathering unappealing.

Instead, he decided to enjoy being upstairs without having to deal with the usual steely glare from his father or the familiar sweet smile from his mother. That stupid smile never failed to provoke an unbidden eye roll from him.

Zion passed into the kitchen and started fiddling with his beloved cappuccino machine. It was nice not having to deal with the way his parent's conversation would abruptly halt when he walked into a room. Or the way his mother would follow him waiting for some kind of greeting he couldn't bring himself to give. He was so used to her presence he could almost feel her watching him with that infuriating worried look in her eyes.

When first arriving as a four-year-old he used to spend every minute he could with her. Following at her heels or crawling into her lap and playing with her mane of red curls. He fondly remembered that she would make him cookies and always smelled like baking.

Despite that closeness, they once had he just couldn't open his mouth to dispel her worries. He wasn't entirely sure what had happened. He couldn't pinpoint when it happened but something had changed. Maybe it was a normal part of growing up. He wouldn't know much about normality.

Unfortunately, he didn't have much time to enjoy his freedom. Having just finished sugaring his second cup of coffee he heard a loud knock on the door. Knocks were a rarity. Not only did they live out of the way but they had a very large locked gate that kept most people out.

That gate ruled out most of the visitors a normal household was likely to get. Door to door salesmen, girl guides and the like had never made it close to the house. Reluctantly edging the door open he expected to see the neighbour who grazed his horses in their fields or perhaps his fathers second but it was neither. A semi-familiar massive wall of a man blocked the entryway.

Zion knew him in passing. Every year his parents entertained the hulking man for a night or two. He had never taken the time to say more than two words to the younger inhabitants of the house. His name was Marthus and he was what some might call a big deal. It didn't matter how well respected or important the man was Zion didn't want anything to do with him.

It was the same every year. He would drop in wearing the very linen tunic and pants that he was wearing just then. Clothes like that always made him look out of place next to his mother's modern classic dress and his father's business casual.

Zion's parents and this giant would spend hours blathering about whatever it was that they considered interesting. Then he would leave as suddenly as he came.

People hear the word vampire and a certain image pops into mind. Marthus's near seven-foot heavily muscled body wrapped in dark skin topped by a bald head was not it.

Alistair wasn't much closer to that image with his Mediterranean olive skin but he did have striking amber eyes and the obligatory dark shoulder-length hair.

Samantha with her pale porcelain skin soft green eyes and ruby red hair could possibly fit a stereotype. She was far too much the sweet doting housewife to pull off bloodthirsty.

Zion was the only one in that house with dark eyes a pale complexion and long black hair but whatever he was it was most certainly not a vampire.

"I need to speak to Alistair," Marthus spoke in his deep voice. He had a very thick vaguely middle eastern accent.

Taking the time to sip at his coffee Zion looked up at the bundle Marthus carried in his arms. Something wrapped in black fabric, something human-shaped.

"My parents are at court. Won't be back until tomorrow night," he said studying the bundle.

Marthus's face twitched in annoyance before he pushed through the door nearly smacking the mug right of Zion's hand.

"Hey! You can't come in here. I told you they aren't here," he barked following at Marthus's back.

Stopping once he reached the living room Marthus turned to Zion. "I heard you but there is little time boy." The two studied each other for a moment before Marthus carefully deposited his burden onto the couch.

"This is not a social visit. I came to ask a favour of my child. In his absence, I must ask it of his child. Though it pains me time is short therefore I must ask you and trust that you will live up to Alistair's legacy." With the slight curl of his nose and the edge to his tone, he did nothing to hide the disdain he obviously felt.

Despite the disdain, Zion had never heard Marthus refer to any of them as Alistair's sons or ever thought that he ever would. Let alone ask any of them for an actual favour. Eyeing the man with suspicion he slowly placed his mug down on a coffee table beside the couch. "What do you want bad enough to ask me?"

"She needs to be hidden and cared for." Pulling the shroud of fabric back Marthus revealed the human-shaped bundle to be a sleeping woman. Or what looked to be a woman only she wasn't quite human. Too perfect to be real, evoking something created.

She was like no one he had ever seen. He simply couldn't pinpoint a known nationality or even point to one. The white ankle-length camisole she wore did nothing to hide the shapely outline of her body. Only a ragged wound around her shoulder and neck marred the perfection of her golden skin. It was black and looked painfully like teeth marks. Not the neat marks fangs make either, something much bigger with far more teeth.

Unsure what he was seeing Zion looked from the slumbering girl to the massive man. "What is she?"

"Alistair will know. The only thing you need to know is that she needs blood and she needs to be kept here in hiding until otherwise informed which should not be long. Gods willing she will slumber until Alistair returns but if she wakes keep her here. Keep her hidden. Do not leave her alone. It is essential that she is kept safe. The King is reticent to leave her if anything happens he will have all our heads."

Rolling his shoulders he looked to the door. "And tell Alistair that I am very sorry for placing this burden on him. There is no other way." With that, he started for the door.

Zion stepped forward after him. "Wait, hidden from what exactly?"

Stopping just long enough to frown over his shoulder Marthus looked to be at the very edge of his patience. "You ask too many questions."

"Can you at least tell me her name?"

"Ghanny," he called out just before shutting the door behind him.