Fever

"No..." I screamed, struggling to pull away. He held my body in such a rigid position, that I could not move my upper limbs, neck or face. As I fought with the best of my ability the attack on my, I felt my eye sight go blurry as something sharp and stabbing slid through the flesh on my neck. I couldn't hear what was going on behind me as I began to fade out of consciousness.

When I awoke, my vision was blurry. As my eyesight began to return, I felt the stiffness in my limbs, as I tried to move them. My heart beat was fast and steady. I thought of the unusual quietness and that's what made me recall the events from last night. As I tried to move my legs, I suffered through an unbearable amount of pain. Looking down at my leg, I noticed that it too had been broken.

There was blood covering my gown. I wasn't sure of the events occurring the previous night, but I knew what ever it was, it had been horrid. My thoughts turned back to my mother, as I remembered seeing her lying on the floor. Suddenly, the memories began to emerge one by one. My body began to succumb to trembles as I felt the constrictions began in my throat, making it almost difficult to breathe.

My eyes teared up as I glanced at what was left of our home. Everything in the place had been strewn about; the decorations we had used to make our house a home. The pottery my mother had collected were broken to bits and pieces on the ground. My mother believed that every piece of pottery held a meaning and there were certain African artifacts that she considered priceless. The table we'd had in our place had been turned over, and it's contents were spewed on the floor.

Pulling myself across the floor to where my mother lay, I felt her body, knowing that because of the rigid coldness state she was in that she was dead. I glanced down at her, feeling pain wash over me, so severe, so full, that I was numb. I understood that crying out for help would be futile. She was no longer here. Her spirit had left her body. Immediately, my heart burst forth with an intense froth of pain and I laid my head over her chest, crying until I passed out.

~~

Iowa:

Control: to exercise restraining or directing influence over. (2013, Merriam Webster Dictionary)

Caduceus

"Myra take my clothing to the dry cleaning. I'm expecting guests by the end of the week. I also need you to take Grant to the grooming parlor. Afterward, I need you to pick up something from the supermarket for dinner for our guests and I need you to make sure you get every item on the list, is that understood?" I glared over at my servant, Myra Tilly. Myra was the only human allowed full time in my home. Others I only accepted when I had business meetings to conduct.

I never told Myra what my business entailed and I intend to keep it that way. There are certain facts of knowledge that masters don't share with their servants, definitely one that isn't a vampire herself. Clearing my throat, I said, "I will expect you back no later than seven thirty tonight, that gives you a good seven hours to get everything you needed done. Do I make myself clear?" I inquired, my tone sharp. No master would ever allow their servant to think that they were close to them, or even make them believe they were anything but that. At least not a master such as myself.

Masters had their place giving orders, and servants had their place taking them.

"Yes sir," she uttered, the fear evident in her anatomy as it shook from my demands.

I nodded my head, giving her permission to leave my presence. I often made people tremble just being around me and a lot of times they didn't know why, but I did. Not only did I carry myself the way those native to my home land did, but I will say that I am very self assured, in control and demand nothing less than obedience from my subjects.

As I thought of this, my heart rendered its own grief at the idea of the one woman I thought about day and night. She was my obsession, the one I have yet to tame. The anger began in my center and worked it's way ferociously through out the rest of my body as I thought of her. Her stubbornness had caused not only her demise, but her parents demise as well. As Myra left out the door to attend her duties, I made my way back to my office, where I sat down and began to reminisce over said subject; Ayanna.

I had met her family accidentally on a trip while in Africa, attending to some business affairs of my beloved country. I loved the city that had become seized from the Phoenicians, by my beloved ancestry during the first, second and third punic wars, where it continued to hold it's sovereignty until 1985. In 1985 Rome's Prime Minister and Carthage Prime minister made a peace treaty that has remained stable to this day. During the years that I'd been sired in Rome, Rome had been a bustling economy, the center of religious worship and politicking as well. Rome in my day had undoubtedly been at it's last zenith of power before the total collapse of it's empire in 1453 by the Ottomans.

I left Rome after that, for favor of Britain and then after that, I left Britain for favor of America. I still, however would travel to and from Carthage, exploring it's magnificent ruins. It was during one of my travels that I met a Dongo's. The Dongo's had taken their name from a natural area they'd uprooted from in Southern Africa in the the 1800's after the destruction of their Congo kingdom by the Portuguese in 1857. They were a beautiful sort of people. I noticed that they were not as the other Carthaginians with mixed heritage of Phoenician, who have blood ties to Caanan, and Africa, but they were of a warrior sort, who protected their own with a ferociousness. I loved this in them. The Dongo were such a discreet sort who stayed to themselves. They were fighters and trained their women well in manners of house keeping. The Dongo's were very prideful, full of religion, sometimes superstitious. They were full of heart and took care of one another. The first time I saw Ameena, I was enthralled by her strict obedience to her father and mother. She seemed to have a very good nature, understood her role as a woman and she seemed to be more demure than other women around her.

It was almost as if she had been bred just to serve and this appealed to me. She never complained of the duties that her parents intrusted upon her and she never once came against them. I saw this as an attribute and I began to inquire about Ameena.

At first, questions were answered, however, once I expressed my interest in her, Dongo father told me no. I was not pleased at his disapproval, but never the less, I elected to find a different mate. However, being as my kind are, it was very difficult to let go of that pull I had toward her. This pull seemed to be consistent not only with me, but her as well, but without her father's approval, it could not happen.

My upbringing had me garnering the approval of the family before betrothing myself to someone. So, I waited, sure that her parents would see the admiration that I had for her and allow me to come in to her.

I left for a trip back home for a good two weeks, settling affairs there, trying to get everything done so that I could rush back to Ameena. However, while there, I felt her detach from me. I went back to Carthage and only then was I told that she'd been given to someone else. I was so enraged that I thought of taking her. After all, it was fair, she'd approved of me and I of her, so why not. My plans were thwarted when one of her younger siblings had come to me, requesting that I meet her.

We met on a rocky path closer to the shoreline than to her home. While speaking with her, I became so saturated with anger over the way she had just accepted her father's passing of her to another, that I almost killed her. I had grabbed her with every intention of doing so until she cried out to me. Looking at her, I was once again startled at the pure beauty she radiated. Big huge eyes, so dark they looked intensely blackened in the midnight sky, beautiful rich chocolate skin tone and a slender, yet sleek frame that had constantly warranted my attention. She begged me not to hurt her, her arms going up to shield her face. Exhaling sharply, I threw her down, watching as she stumbled over a huge rock, fell down and hurt her ankle. I did not help her up because I saw no need to. That was what she deserved. It was then I turned away from her, leaving her in that state. I didn't venture back to Carthage again until I knew she'd be deceased.

I had no reason to linger on in my prospects of a mate since the one I wished to have was already dead, so for years, I roamed my beloved village of Capitoline in Rome. It wasn't until I ventured back into Carthage, that I found out that the Dongo clan had moved further back into the mainlands of Africa. I went out of curiosity to see the how the Dongo's were fairing, but what was done with good intent actually revived a feeling of resentment toward the prior clan leader.

It occurred to me that since I had to suffer this long without a mate, due to her father's denial and acceptance of me because of my race, that I could just wipe them all out, but then as I was contemplating this, another idea turned over in my mind and I gathered the bright idea of befriending the daughter of Ameena's child. Ameena and her father had already passed on. Ameena during the year of her grand daughter's expectancy and her father, five years after Ameena had been given in marriage. I saw this as a new opportunity to forge a bridge, make myself more appealing to the family. On the day that I introduced myself to Ameena's daughter, under the guise of a drifter, I asked her for some water.

This was around 1885. As I stared at her daughter, I could see much of Ameena in her. She was subservient as well and I thought she would make a fine wife one day, but as she went into the house, I heard a baby from inside and I knew that she was mated. The Dongo's took pride in mating and raising children. This was another reason I liked them, they were a family unit, not ones to go off on their own. They stuck together in everything they did and this was something commendable in my book.

A woman who was subservient and loyal was what I needed and none fascinated me more than the Dongo women. The men were in charge of their homes and the women were obedient, but I will say that the men did not exert that obedience, which to me was their weakness. A woman had her place in a man's life, in his home, in his bed and in his heart. Everything had to be in order.

I ushered myself over to the door the woman had walked through and listened in on the child as she picked it up, nursed it and then sat it back down in it's crib. As I stared down at the brown skinned child with dark starry eyes, so much like her grandmother, I felt my breath taken away from me upon site. The desire I felt for this child to know me and understand me was overwhelming.

I wasn't a bad guy, I just demanded excellency and obedience. I thought of the fact that if this child was to grow up knowing me, then perhaps by the time she was of age, she would know me to a point where I would not have to worry about her running. It occurred to me that I could in fact mold her into precisely what I wanted, all under the guise of being a friend to her.

For ten years I tried this, from the moment the child was an infant, I would make excuses to come near her home with the parents, talking and discussing everything, from the weather to the upcoming battle within Africa itself between the north and southern areas of the country. Her father in particular took a liking to me, seeing as how I came around so often. I would help him build or tear down anything he needed. I would help him lift water from the well that had been built on their land, and I would help him do odd jobs around the house, never once having him suspect who or what I was.

At-least that was what I assumed, until I approached her mother Candace in her own dialect about their daughter, who'd been given the name Ayanna; African for beautiful flower. It is a name that suited her well because she loved flowers. When I approached her mother and asked her about Ayanna, she stated in a low calm voice, "No. I will not sell my daughter to you."

"She will be well provided for." I stated. She glanced up at me. "It is unspeakable for a man your age to want a child as young as her. She is only ten years old and I will not give her to you."

"Not even if I offered you enough money to end the situation that you and your husband are in?"

She glared at me, her eyes cold, lacking warmth, "Don't think my mother did not tell me about you, Mr. Pontius. I am well aware of your intentions. I know what you are."

"If you know what I am, then you must know that I could just take her and never allow her to see you again." I stated, my tone menacing.

Her native tongue flew as she swore a string of words at me. One I understood as black haired devil. Slowly a smile formed on my face, a devil eh? I stared at her, my eyes gathering more anger over being denied. She stared at my face, her's just as hostile as mine, without the red tint mine took on. I could smell her fear, I could even taste and hear the change of flow in her blood, but I admired her toughness. "You're not getting my child."

"She is mine." I hissed. "Either you will allow me to have her now or when she comes of age." I demanded.

She yelled, "No! How dare you demand that I give you my daughter? She is not yours and she will never be. Your kind has done nothing but destroy my people, destroy our lands, and now you wish for me to sale my daughter to you outright? No."

"She will lack for nothing. Everything I have, I give to her. You even have my word that I will not touch her until she is of age."

"And I am explaining to you that you may not purchase my daughter, my very blood. She is too young."

"Shall I wait till she get older?"

"No." Her head shook adamantly, "I wish for her to marry within her own people."

I had to bite my tongue. Staring at the mother, I knew I would get no where with her, so I cleared my throat and offered an apology, "I thank you for hearing me out and I will not bother you again."

Her look still looked angry. I had to give her credit for her bravery. Since I couldn't speak with her, then I knew I had to find other means necessary to obtain what was rightfully mine.

~~

As I came out of this memory and entered into another one, I was filled with a blood soaked rage, a desire to fulfill what I had once failed at. Not just once, but several attempts. I'd been shut out the first two times by the woman I wanted and then by her daughter to her offspring and then, a third time by the father who seemed to dislike me even more than the mother after learning of my talk with his wife.

However, I'd found Ayanna undoubtedly beautiful. She was not as slender as her grand mother, but she had a quick wit, smart mouth and was even less compliant than her mother had seemed on the surface. This fueled my desire to have her even more. She was a fighter and I wanted to take that from her, I wanted to make her into my submissive partner. Men have to be in control at all times.

I knew she could do all that any woman could do, and even more by the age of fifteen. She liked things of colors, so she was always making bands to go around her hair or putting flowers in the cottony coils that were well taken care of. As she got older, the more consumed with rage I became at the idea of being turned down. I knew she had a link to me because I didn't need to create a bond to build one. I just focused on the person I wanted and just being near that person awakened something strong. I would describe it as instinctive or spine tingling chills. The more I followed Ayanna, the more she became aware of my presence, til I no longer could hide myself. I had to reveal who I was to her, so that she would see.

By this time, she was fifteen years old, ripe for mating and even more beautiful than I had ever anticipated her being. Her cottony hair had grown out past her shoulders now and she had twisted them into braids. She'd also placed a veil of flowers around her hair, to make them look decorative; almost as if she were a bride. The dress she wore was equally colorful. Her mother was a woman of impeccable taste. The darkest skin shone the most beautiful in bright, bold colors.

Today, Ayanna wore a lavender and white colored dress, with her hair french braided back. I went up to her and asked her to consider having me as a spouse. Of course she denied me and the ramifications of that denial, although accidental, was something I was sure she was still paying for to this day. I knew that she and her father were still alive, because, I'm the one who'd changed them. The only one I'd intended to change but left for dead out of frustration was Ayanna.

She and her father had changed within a matter of days.

Most of my kind would have went back and killed them both, however, I was more interested to see how they would fair and adjust as vampires in a human world.

I still wanted Ayanna and unless I had something to bargain her for, I would never be able to obtain her.