The Curse Of A Stranger's Gift 27 Preparation

A man wearing a white coat crouched to get a better look at Zheira. He smiled, revealing white teeth. "Okay, Princess Alic. What do you suggest we do?" He flicks the syringe filled with purple liquid.

Zheira followed its tip with creased brows. "But why are you calling me Princess Alic?" Her voice was small but pitchy.

The man smirked. "You're a joker little girl, aren't you? Of course, I'm calling you that way because it's who you are."

"Me?" She pointed herself. "I'm not Alic. I'm Zheira." Her heart started beating rapidly when the man laughed.

"You're just stressed out. We've just been talking about these potions and now you're denying who you are." He shook his head with amus.e.m.e.nt.

"No! Believe me! You're mistaken. I'm not Alic." Her hands twitched as she explained.

"Hmm. Let's just say that I believe you." With one last glimpse, he injected the syringe in her shoulder. Her screams pierced the room as she trashed to get away from the straps in her waist.

"Let me go!" She yelled at the top of her lungs, but the man cackled. The sound of his voice was deep, yet, soft. What made her move back was when the man's skin peeled. She closed her eyes before she could see his flesh. However, she could hear clearly the crunching sound from his skin. Her eyes opened for a fraction and were bemused to see the king standing in front of her; the man entirely vanished. His scarred face was smiling from ear to ear while giving her a stabbing stare.

"Zheira," he growled, raising a sharp knife. He caressed its blunt side while winking at her.

"G—get away f—from me." Sweats streamed from her forehead while she tried moving the laboratory chair.

His grip on the knife tightened. "This is all your fault!" He glared at her before throwing the knife towards her heart. A wild gasp issued from her throat when it plunged through her heart. Blood splattered to the ground as her life drained out of her.

She felt pathetic as she watched the king laughed while she struggles to breathe. With her desperation, she moved back once more. Suddenly, the chair melted and she fell. The gravity was pulling her down, but she couldn't see any surface to land into. It's a never-ending fall. With a gulp, she closed her eyes then stretched her hands; accepting death would be better than trying to escape its grasp.

The moment she welcomed death, her back hit something hard. It knocked her back to life. She's catching her breath as she opened her eyes. By putting her palm in her chest, she realized there wasn't any wound. Relief washed through her. It was like she'd been in a race; her body was filled with sweats.

"That dream again." She sat and wiped her body with the towel. "I should really stop thinking about those. I'm not Alic. It was just a mere memory, but why do I feel as if she's inside me?" While brus.h.i.+ng the towel in her back, a spark ran through her veins. It made her scream.

The door trampled with a gust of wind. "Are you okay?" Vladimir asked. His jet black was disheveled as he scrutinized her.

Her eyes lingered to him for a while. "I—I feel some sparks inside me." She entwined her fingers, stopping it from shaking.

He sat on the bed. "What do you mean?" His voice seemed so far, but it was echoing inside her head; louder than ever. She screamed of his name when a piercing sound tickled her eardrums. It was too much for her. Her head felt like exploding.

Cold hands touched her shoulders, and it's like being pierced with sharp knives. She wanted it to stop. She wanted her life to stop. Her eyes were becoming fuzzy with her tears continuously dropping.

All of a sudden, loud heartbeats started filling her ears. Her vision was becoming clearer; even more clearer than before. She could see the perfect lines in Vladimir's perfect complexion. The smell of vanilla wafted the air, toning her tension down.

"A—Are you okay now?" His s.e.xy lips parted in slow motion, making the b.u.t.terflies in Zheira's stomach dance wildly.

"Wh—What's happening t—to me?" Her lips were shaking. Something has changed. She could hear the small footsteps from below and even the beat of their tickers. A visual image in her head started playing by the feel of blood traveling from the mortal's veins. It brought a tasty smell that made her a bit thirsty.

"I don't understand you." Vladimir rubbed her shoulders. "Can you elaborate?" The small golden crystals in his eyes seemed to twinkle in Zheira's...o...b...

Her eyes bulged. "I think I can hear the mortal's heartbeat below and... and I could smell their blood from here. W—what does it mean? Am I becoming a vampire?"

Vladimir merely smiled. "No. You're still mortal, but your body is starting to adjust now. Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

"There's more," she whispered while staring at her shaking hands. "Ever since I saw your memory, I always dreamed of Alic. It felt as if she's inside me." Her arms wrapped her knees and she sw.a.n.g like an idiot.

"Zheira, listen." He touched her hand, stopping her from being stupid. "It's your ability. It has improved from offense to defense. Last time, it's you who can see past. Right now, however, you can incapacitate your opponent by refres.h.i.+ng their painful memory. When you tried reading me, you've been there, too. That's why for a moment you thought you were Alic."

"Will it stop?"

"I don't know." He moved closer towards her and caged her into a tight embrace. Brus.h.i.+ng her hair, he murmured, "Rest a.s.sured, I'm always here to be a shoulder you can lean on."

For a moment, they were trapped in their own worlds. Their posed were perfect not until heavy footsteps reached their sensitive ears. They stood and peered in the large window. There seemed to be a procession of vampires in the center-part of the Townsquare. They were all lined perfectly at the same distance; it seemed as if they've repeated the same march for over a century.

From her improved senses, she could hear the swish of their gray cloak while they made their way to the castle; they have with them a long, gray metallic spear that was grasped by their right hands. She gulped as she makes out their faces. It was gaunt and filled with menace.

"Who are those?"

Vladimir sighed. "They're witnesses for my coronation."

She looked at him pointedly. "I couldn't help but notice your lack of enthusiasm with being the king. Why don't you want to be crowned?"

He leaned towards the windowsill. "Politics is something I never have thought to subject myself into. It vested power that any man desires to taste. But, one grasp on it will turn a decent man to a monster everyone will soon fear..." He cleared his throat. "... and I don't want that to happen to me. I saw it myself. Look at my father, he'd become a stranger; an ent.i.ty for which he despises and an ent.i.ty for which everyone fears."

"I'm sorry." She looked down, realizing for the first time the impact of his decision.

"It's okay, Zheira. You have nothing to be sorry about. Your presence has got nothing to do with my decision." He smiled slightly.

"You're lying!" Her expression was irresolute while she measured his face. She really hates lies more than anything.

"I'm—"

A flash of gray cloak made them stop. It was Eleanor; she's leaning to the wall while looking coldly at them. "The king wants to see his heir," she said with a rigid thin voice.

"He can wait," he muttered with gritted teeth.

Eleanor's face was then carved with an evil grin. "I'm under the impression that you've asked him a favor. Do you want him to start blubbering now?"

He turned to her abruptly with a sharp glare. "Fine! let's go." With a swished, he vanished on the spot.

Zheira was left with Eleanor's company; she prowled towards her with a big smile. "Do you want to know why he saved you?" She stroked the strands of her hair playfully. "He's just guilty."

"Guilty?"

Eleanor chuckled. "Yeah, he is! Let's just say, a fire will never burn without woods or oxygen."

"What do you mean?" she asked; her brows draw together, but Eleanor turned her back and vanished with a loud pop.

A fire will never burn without woods or oxygen...

Her words repeated itself to Zheira's head. It's like a ruin karaoke, repeating its songs like an idiot.

Although she's still confused with what Eleanor had said, she understood that what she's implying was there's something that triggered the death of her parents... or was it, someone?

She breathed heavily before staring back at the procession. They were now pa.s.sing through the arcs that bridge the entrance of the castle. They're still marching perfectly like earlier.

Gracefully, she jumped to her bed. It creaked at her weight. She closed her eyes, letting her senses swam with her environment. The noise somewhat made her uncomfortable, but it steered her to a slumber she never had thought of.