King of Dust

Chapter 18

I waited under the shadow of a tree and watched the men at the pub. Drunk old men normally weren't my targets, but it was less conspicuous than targeting cute girls. This spot under an old weeping willow had been my favorite hunting ground in Nessden for years. All I had to do was wait until one drunk sap came to take a leak.

"How much longer?" Yra whined.

"You've been going on hunts with me for decades and you won't be patient?" I answered. "Be still, young one."

"Be still... young one," he mocked. "You sound old."

"I am old."

"Young enough for a pretty girl."

"Don't torment me, please."

"Her face paled at the thought of death. Are you sure she can handle you?"

"Are you testing me?"

"I just don't want you to get hurt."

"Then be my ally, Yra. Work with me."

"I'm just grappling with the fairness of it all, Darius." Yra floated up into the tree to lie along a branch. "You get to rebound from me directly into some young thing's arms. Meanwhile, I am left alone."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry things are complicated."

"I should've guessed as much," he huffed. "I should've never hoped that dating a million-year-old vampire would be easy."

"I'm only, like, five hundred years old. Excuse you."

Yra chortled under his breath and when he rolled over on the branch, his favorite pendant fell out of the neckline of his shirt. "I'm just teasing, Darius."

"I don't even know if anything is going to happen between the two of us."

"She looked at you like you're a prince."

"I used to be a king."

"You know what I mean."

I leaned against the tree and watched the fireflies dance in the field in front of me. "I'm moving forward cautiously. I cannot deny what my heart wants, but I, like you, don't want to see anyone get hurt."

"What did it?" Yra asked, playing with a leaf. "What made you fall for her?"

My mind drifted to a place in the past. I remembered how she looked sitting in front of the fireplace in the library that adjoined my bedroom. Her flaming hair hung over her shoulder as she read a novel. I taught her how to read, and the first book she decided she wanted to tackle was a tragedy, an epic novel about the downfall of a kingdom. As her eyes struggled over the words, painting a picture in her mind of death and despair, her eyes welled with tears. They trailed down her rust-colored skin and splashed onto the book, wrinkling the pages.

Afterward, she curled up in my bed, though she had her own, and asked me why someone would write such a sad story. I told her it was because sometimes life is just that: sad. She then looked me in the eyes and wished with all her heart that I would not have a sad life.

"She sees me as a person," I finally said. "Not a monster."

Yra scoffed and rolled over on the branch again, the tree creaking out in protest. "You can be both, you know."

I stayed silent for a moment, not wanting to talk more on the subject, when someone stumbled out the back door of the pub. He was a young fellow, good looking, thank Fandr, and completely plastered. He laughed at his friends, caught in some merry-go-round of forgotten time and good jokes. When he closed the door behind him, he was swallowed in the night. He did what drunk men at this hour always did: looked around for a place with privacy, and then his eyes wandered to the tree under which I stood.