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Cognata: A Vampire Romance
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Cognata
Copyright © 2015 Jedaiah Ramnarine
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in Canada by Double Dragon eBooks, a division of Double Dragon Publishing Inc. of Markham Ontario, Canada.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from Double Dragon Publishing Inc.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Cover art by Nicole Anderson
ISBN-10: 1-77115-274-5
ISBN-13: 978-1-77115-274-7
First Edition December 16, 2015
*
"This is the unfolding,
of the forsaken,
creatures of shadow,
locked in a haze of unending,
with blood dripping down their lips,
looking for a glimmer,
in an eon that will never come."
- Halona, The Second
She drinks... Blood
2017
Okay, I think this is it. Yeah, this is the real one - the one where you've lost your mind. Probably out of some kind of desperation from loneliness or denial for the past four years, but the point is, what she just told me has me flipping my literal shit. I mean, anything else would've been acceptable; I met her online. A lot of options to come out with weird shit. But no, it couldn't have been that she was a robot or a dude, or some other realistically acceptable weird dogma. No, my online girlfriend of 4 years, whom I've had the pleasure of recently meeting in person has just told, no sorry - revealed to me, that she's a vampire. Yeah, a vampire. My girlfriend's a vampire.
Holy shit!
I have to take a second. This just happened. I mean, she's perfect in every way for me, right? Denial.
Something about that kind of curious creature - that noble type with a dark past or something, I can't help myself; it's my 'type' of girl. In terms of the "scale", from one to ten, she's an eleven. Beyond just the words of beautiful or gorgeous. I mean this woman looks like something out of a hand-painted masterpiece from an elven fairytale. Parted, long, peroxide-blonde hair that flows down her back, greenish-cyan eyes, milky-pale white skin with a face that says both naughty and nice. It's hard not to resist thinking that this has to be the universe congratulating you after working your ass off to get at least this little spoil.
"Samuel?"
Oh great, now she's calling. What do I do? I locked myself in the bathroom telling her I need to think. I'm sure there's a logical explanation to all this and well; I did promise her, right in the beginning that I'd be her shoulder, so maybe I should go out there and be a responsible boyfriend. Or maybe, I might just get my throat slashed by a raving psycho. You only live once.
"I'll be out in sec." Still sweating cold.
It's no big deal. Plenty of crazy things out there, right? This is just one of them, and this one happens to be someone I fell in love with. That has to count for something.
Maybe that's why she told me... instead of killing me. She could've drank me. Suck me dry of my blood, or is that how it works in the real world? Not sure. Alright, go out there and do this.
Take a breath, and...
"Hey!"
Ouh, slick tone. Let's keep it like that
"Are you alright?" Damn, I love her accent. It's such a noble, refined English. Clearly not her first language but the sheer try-harding from how well she wants to present herself is more than a turn on.
"Yeah, I am. Why wouldn't I be? You showed me you're a vampire."
Sarcasm is a beautiful thing.
"Are you mad at me?"
"I don't know."
"Then what's wrong?"
"You're going to have to explain to me what's going on. Right now."
Yes, peak her interest and make her feel you're involved.
"More? You're alright with this?"
Let's just be honest here. She's revealed a seemingly dark and terrifying secret, but when you give your heart to a woman, it's not easy to just walk away. I'm not sure a blood thirst can break me, at least not yet, so I tell her "Yeah. I am. Tell me everything. I deserve to know."
Or maybe, I had to play the victim.
Her gentle fingers slip into mine, and she guides me to the living room of the hotel stay where I did have my momentary freak out. You would too when you saw the fangs. They were very real.
"I wanted to tell you before, but I was not sure you'd believe me."
That dark-red lipstick she uses to contrast her beautiful pale skin only makes me think of the things I'd...
"Sam?"
Oh shit, "Yeah?"
"Are you listening?"
"Yes. Go on."
"I feel like you're different. I feel I can be honest with you."
"So, why bring that up now?"
"This isn't something I can tell anyone. You're still here with me."
"Of course." you sounded a bit too sure buddy, "Look, I'm not sure how serious you think I've been but you're the one for me. Except if you were a werewolf. Too hairy. Way too hairy... "
She's laughing.
That's just great, my heart's already trying to ease me into the weirdness and I'm finding acceptance because of her casual, gentle gestures. Dressed in a purely gothic red and black corset with a long, utterly-expensive dress that could be shifted aside to reveal the garters, stockings and thong underneath and near-thigh high boots.
Who could resist such a woman?
"How does it work?" I asked, "Are you going to kill me?"
"No. I want to enjoy my days with you."
"Right, but how do you... feed? How do you do your... vampire stuff?"
"I've had many years to enjoy the hedonistic, noble, shadowy life of a Cognata. Feeding these days is different. We can't just go sucking on the blood of any stranger."
"Why is that? And what's a 'Cognata'?"
"'Cognata' is the female variant of what we 'vampires' call ourselves. Most of your blood is toxic. Never know what diseases we can pick up. Not to mention pollution and toxic substances that people so eagerly abuse these days. Feeding openly is risky and pointless now."
"Wait, are you saying my blood isn't good enough for you?" Yeah, that's right, crawl over her all sexy and make her laugh.
Tease her a bit, make her feel comfortable and let her know it's okay - you're her rock. You're her shield.
"No that is not my point. We just require the healthiest of 'donors'."
I'm busy trying to kiss her while she's busy trying to get my attention.
"What is it? I told you, you don't have to worry. We can get through this."
"I know... " She holds my head firmly, making me stare into those deviant eyes, "I must confess my true nature."
What now?
She stares for a moment, quietly contemplating if her exposure really is the right decision. At this point I'm expecting, what, some kind of ritualistic blood-stained knife, or a stake, or a vampire hunter's head or who the fuck knows. It doesn't get any wilder than this.
She slides out underneath me and goes to her suitcases, then comes back with a small, treasure-chest box; a remnant of an ancient time, long ago. I knew it had to be
authentic just by looking at the glimmers on it. She's the type to hold secrets, shroud you in her mystery and before you realize it - you are already the submissive.
It's what got me hooked on her in the first place. The thought of a woman from the dark coming to light has always appealed to me. Guess I'm a sucker for the babes with baggage. Flipside's I might be laughably wrong and she could be a psychotic sociopath masquerading for attention. Either way, it's pretty hot if you think about it.
"What is it?" I wonder aloud
"It's my memoirs. Tales of the journeys I've been through." She sits at the side of the couch. I understand why she picked this hotel. It's classy, elegant and reminiscent of nobility. It echoes the posture of this woman, who by the way, told me she was only 5 years older. Now I'm starting to think she's probably hundreds. Don't judge me, okay?
Her head drops while her fingers run across the seeps and cracks of the old box as if she's replaying a vision in her head and her fingertips - the cameras making that vision a reality. I let her do her thing. She knows I'm always here for her.
"Lilith... " I tried comforting her
"Stop!" She snaps, peering into my eyes, demanding I make not so much as a screech, "Don't call me that, ever again." she sighs as deafening silence fills the air around us - "That was only an alias. My true name is Alexia Aetheria Phokaina. I was born in the year 820 to a noble family in the Byzantine Empire. I spent my childhood years as a royalty-bound daughter of a wealthy nobleman... "
Her breasts must be almost a D cup. Full at the top with that perfect round edge...
"Samuel, are you listening to me or staring at my breasts?" Her voice shoots right into my head.
HOLD ON!
Are you kidding me? She just spoke into my head!
"Uh, how did you do that?" Seriously woman, tell me.
"I can do many things, love. Will you please listen to me now?"
Yes, yes, fine! Fine!
I nod to her request but can you blame me for zoning out? She's a dark angel with the willpower of a queen and the danger of a succubus, ready to drag you into the abyss and yet I can't get enough.
"Those were strange times. I did not stay there that long... " Her eyes trail to mine softly saying sorry for ranting on, then she looks back to her precious treasure box - "It's best you know of me, the real me."
She hands me the box, unveiling a storage of old letters, pictures, necklaces, rings and other trinkets you'd easily consider to be part of legend ole' as the tales would go. The first piece that slips into my hands is an old letter.
"Sam... " Her hand caresses my rugged, skinny face, which probably looks like vanilla on my dark, chocolate-olive skin, "I love you."
Why are her eyes so, how do I put it, sure and uncertain at the same time?
"And I love you. No matter what." Words roll out. Slip off my tongue without thought.
What the hell did I get myself into?
Chapter One
Aristide
Alexia's Journal,
April 7th 1932
I remember the days I was a little girl, growing up in the fading shade of what once was the Eastern Roman Empire. These were not dark times, nor were they light. It was a time of confusion I should say, for me. The haziness of hope and madness between the religious fanatics that fought for their personal, ever-conflicting beliefs made no sense to me. I found myself uncaring to the iconoclasm. I used to think that the division between men would be endless. Whether over the chariot racing teams of the Blues and the Greens, as they were known back then, or over a cup of gold, water, resources or a piece of land, tell me - what's really the difference?
My family was wealthy and highly respected. I was naturally born into a life of nobility. There were no sufferings that befell me. No dramatic displeasures that would've scarred me for the rest of my life. The time for those things would come soon after.
"Alexia?" The remembrance of my mother's voice flushes seas of longing for her. I loved that woman dearly. She was not the type to buy into nonsense, though it is unfortunate her intelligence took her nowhere at the time due to all the chaos around. I must confess, writing about this memory does make me feel, strange. It was around the time I met Aristide and the way I originally thought of him, resembles none of the feelings I harbor for him today. Interesting how one's potential rapist should turn out to be one of your greatest lovers and fondest memories.
"Alexia?" She kept calling me from downstairs, while I was in my room with the servant girl who was sweating blood and tears to make sure my dress was well fitted, "You'll be late. It's time to go!"
I know mother.
I must make sure I am fitted for the ball.
Father would be proud to see me in such elegance.
I was 17 at the time. Certain of myself. Didn't have much care for the world around me but I was sure of myself and where I should go and it wasn't meant to be there. I never saw myself in my mother's shoes or any of the other court ladies of the time. My mother was an aristocratic woman tied into my father's traditions of following the 'savior' and being the upright woman society wanted her to be but in her spare time, she'd always do these strange paintings. Depictions of naked women, full of hoping and longing. She'd die before she ever revealed what they meant but I think, they were her passion for escaping. Little did she know, her only choice would be to live that through me. So she did her best, like my father as well, to make certain I was raised as an elegant, classy only-child, destined to be wedded to one of the Emperors or their relatives eventually.
Yet I still found myself completely unmoved by their traditions. Conflict spread through the city from street to street, quarter to quarter, from the beggars to the noblemen, while rising multiculturalism was surely eating away at the great city of Constantinople. None of it made sense to me or maybe, I simply did not care.
I cared about that night when I was taken by an escorted chariot with my parents to the Great Palace. A party for only the Emperor's most distinguished guests. I remember when my father escorted my mother and I out of the seating. That's when I saw him in the shadows of the dark night, prowling around the street's corner, lurking and searching. His eyes were as white as snow and they shimmered through the blackness as they gazed right into mine telling me, I want you.
Should I tell father what I saw?No, they'd think I was crazy. Cast a veil over me and rebuke any demon haunting my steps. Then they'd dive deeper into their superstition till I heard no end of all the religious rubbish they spewed at me. The moment I looked away, the shadowy devil was gone. That made me feel safe but only for a short period of time. I somehow knew I'd see him again. I just didn't know when. There was something eerie about the encounter and no, not because of how terrifying it would seem. The eeriness? I wanted it. I wanted him to chase me. Don't ask why.
The party was held in the endless Grand Palace gardens, filled with welcoming flowers and dim lights that showed inscriptions of faith across the walls without trace of any religious depictions or icons, following the Empire's official mandate. The white marble shone in the moonlight and the general atmosphere felt like a night where we should forget all conflict and be one with the finest wines. Father was here on business. He did not have much conversation with many of the guests, save for the Emperor and his closest advisors. His focus was on how high he could climb the ladder. My mother on the other hand, fulfilled the social duty. I did not want much to do with either of them. While the lyre, lute and cymbals were hard to resist from the skillful hands that played them, I needed to get away. Discreetly, I whisked myself away, deeper into the gardens and far from the cheery hypocrisy of the court. I found myself at the very edge of the palace grounds, on the walls overlooking the Bosporus.
I wanted to be alone.
There were no swarms of thoughts that kept me bothered, only those eyes I saw - that kept reappearing in my mind over and over till the point where I could feel them and eventually, hear him... a man's voice, soft but chiseled, raspy but wise, cam
e to me, "You are worth more than what you are given."
For a moment, I silently considered the possibilities of all the deranged beliefs of the time. Maybe I was possessed or maybe, I was losing my mind to schizophrenia. Both would be a wonderful fantasy tale to endow this journal with and both would also be a lazy lie. The truth is, his voice was calling to me and I was following it.
"You are so special Alexia." He kept echoing inside me.
Blindly following the urge to find the cause of my madness, my night's journey took me to the marble railing, high over the waves below, endlessly crashing against the shores of the Golden Horn, where a beautiful full moon awaited me with all of space's wonder in the background; some sprinkled stars and a few clouds that only added to the texture of the real life painting.
Dim lanterns from boats in the horizon, coming and going day and night, connecting the great imperial capital to all corners of the world. I was breathless upon seeing it. It was so... beautiful.
Suddenly I felt a glass shattering cold. A very obvious shift in the weather. It was so cold I started shivering and the air around me grew thinner. It was hard to breathe. Something else was there with me. Something of another world. Another creature...
"It is good you are here my child." The voice spoke to me again, only this time it was no longer in my head. It was there, in person. "You came to my calling. Good, that is good. A step towards your wonderful destiny." A tall, pale-skinned, ornament-faced, well-dressed man waltzed around me, smelling me as if I were a lost bouquet of treasured flowers. Listening to him speak was odd. His accent was poor. Clearly a foreigner, but the way he twisted his tongue and formed his words spoke tales of lusting for the things he'd do to me, which I found painful to resist.
"Who are you?" I stopped him as I glanced back to the direction from where I came, "What do you want?"
His tracks stopped in front of my gaze and I was cornered by his snow-white, almost pupil-less eyes - "You." His tone suddenly became stern, far from the introductory playfulness and excitement. He had to have been at least twice my age with a few years added on, yet he was so... infatuating and undeniably attractive. The way he spoke to me, as if I were some precious stone and not the next Emperor's bride to be, was different and different was what stimulated my imagination at the time. I was a young girl and I wanted more than all the tedium around me. He made me feel like it was possible.