After the Mark

CHAPTER SEVEN: Shadow of Consequence

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he was a mistake.

I stood by the door, listening to his heart-hammering wildly at first, then gradually slowing until it settled into a steady rhythm. He was asleep.

I opened the door quietly and made my way downstairs.

At the reception desk, I placed the bag-heavy, filled with the drained body of the girl-on the counter. I smiled at the receptionist. He didn't ask questions. He already knew what to do.

He took the bag, set it gently on the floor beside him, and smiled back.

"It will be handled."

"Good," I replied. "Keep this up and you might just get your wish sooner than you think."

His face lit up instantly. He nodded eagerly.

I turned and stepped outside, releasing a long, heavy sigh. Pulling my phone from my jacket, I called Tunde. He picked up almost immediately.

"Are you nearby?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Meet me at the park."

I ended the call.

The park lay ahead of me-usually alive and crowded during the day, but now, close to midnight, it was empty. Silent. A graveyard of benches and paths. I walked to the entrance and sat on one of the long benches, alone with my thoughts.

What was I going to do with the new vampire upstairs?

Leaving him on his own would get him killed sooner or later. Yet... I had felt his heart. He knew pain-the kind that sharpens you, hardens you. The kind that creates survivors. Maybe he had potential after all.

My thoughts were interrupted when Tunde arrived and sat beside me. We spoke without looking at each other.

"Did you find him?" I asked.

"Yes."

"How is he?"

"He's a surgeon now."

"A surgeon?" I let out a small chuckle. "How does he manage that-being surrounded by blood every day?"

"He's half human. His thirst isn't as strong as ours."

"So he changes professions every thirty years?"

"Fifteen."

"Is he in love?"

"He had two sons with a woman. Never married her. That's all I know."

"So he isn't with anyone now?"

Tunde finally looked at me.

"Are you trying to find a reason not to kill him?"

"I don't see a reason to," I replied calmly. "He lives like a human. His human side dominates."

"We can't return without completing the mission," he said. "I miss my people. If you don't want to go home, fine-but I do."

I sighed.

Then he continued, "And what about the boy you turned? Are you planning to take him with us?"

I sighed again.

"He won't be accepted," Tunde said firmly. "And you'll be punished-again-for sharing your father's blood with a stranger. Someone unworthy of it."

He paused, then added quietly, "We need to kill them both."

I turned to him, anger burning in my voice.

"You will not touch either of them. Not yet. You'll take me to him when I'm ready."

I stood up to leave.

"And the one upstairs?" Tunde asked.

"I'll handle him," I said without turning back. "Don't you dare interfere."

Then I walked away

I left the park and stood by the roadside. Abuja was asleep, yet the city still glowed-streetlights humming, glass buildings reflecting a quiet gold. The emptiness pressed in on me. I felt the urge to cry rise in my chest, sharp and sudden, but I swallowed it back.

Instead, I returned to the park and sat on the bench again. I exhaled deeply, reached into my pocket, and pulled out a cigarette. I placed it between my lips. There was no lighter. I didn't need one.

I focused-just slightly-on the tip of the cigarette. Heat gathered at my fingertips, subtle but obedient, answering a power that had lived in my blood for centuries. A thin flame bloomed, brief and controlled, kissing the paper until it caught. The fire vanished as quickly as it appeared. I inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, feeling my nerves ease as the smoke left my lungs.

I smoked halfway, then pulled out my phone and opened 2go.

Hey.

The reply came almost instantly.

Are you in my city?

Can I come over?

Definitely.

I crushed the cigarette beneath my shoe, stood, and ran.

The world stretched and blurred as I moved. The air tore past me as my legs carried me faster than any human could follow-not sprinting, not flying, but something in between. Distance folded in on itself. Streetlights became streaks. In seconds, I was standing at his gate.

I knocked.

He opened the door and smiled, his teeth impossibly white.

"Juliet," he said, leaning in to kiss me. He pulled back slightly, sniffed the air, and smirked. "You've been smoking, haven't you?"

"Can I come in?"

He stepped aside, and I entered the yard.

"Smoking will ruin your lungs, you know," he added.

I squinted at him.

He laughed. "Relax. Joke."

He jogged ahead and opened the front door. "Come on in."

The first thing I noticed inside the living room was a large portrait on the wall-a naked Black woman, her back turned, unapologetic and bold.

"Huh. That's new," I said. "When did you get that?"

"Birthday present."

"It's nice."

I sat on the couch. He joined me, turning slightly so he was facing me.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" he asked.

"I'm just having a bad decade," I replied.

"Wow. A bad decade?" He leaned closer. "Is there any way I can help relieve some of that stress?"

I let the flirtation linger.

"What do you have in mind?"

"I could tell you," he said softly, "but I'd rather show you."

He kissed me. I kissed him back. Within seconds, clothes were scattered across the room. He pushed my legs aside and pressed into me. I groaned, arching instinctively, urging him to move faster. His grip tightened around my thigh, his pace quickened.

"Fuck," he muttered.

"Lay down," I said.

I moved on top of him. His hands found my chest, and I moaned, kissing him deeply, focused only on his mouth. His tongue traced mine, his hand gripping my body firmly. We stayed that way for a while, the tension building. When I felt him tense beneath me, I moved harder, deliberately.

"Fuck," he shouted.

Afterward, I rolled onto my side. We lay there, breathing heavily.

"So," he said after a moment, "do you want to tell me what's really on your mind?"

"I will," I replied. "But I need to shower first."

"You remember where it is, right?"

I went to the bathroom and stood under the water longer than necessary. It washed the city off me, the blood, the noise. When I was done, I wrapped myself in one of his robes and returned to the living room.

He wasn't there.

"Ibrahim?" I called.

"In the bedroom."

I went in and climbed onto the bed, resting my head on his chest.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I think I made a mistake," I said quietly. "I created a vampire. If word gets out, I'll be in serious trouble. And I'm supposed to kill someone I don't want to kill. So... yeah. I'm fucked."

He sighed. "Man, I'm really glad I'm not a vampire. Your problems don't end-they just follow you forever. That sounds like hell."

I lifted my head and looked at him. "Aren't you supposed to console me? You're making it worse."

"Okay, okay. Sorry." He pulled me back against his chest. "Do you remember the first time we met? Ten years ago?"

"Of course. You were an obnoxious rich kid trying to act like a gangster."

"Hey. I was nineteen and watched too many crime movies. Anyway, we tried to rob you and-"

"I beat the shit out of all of you," I cut in. "You didn't even try. You just started begging."

He laughed. "Whatever. I stood at that junction for days after that, looking for you. Ten days later I saw you buying roasted corn. I apologized. That's how we became friends. I still can't believe you trusted me with your secret."

"But I fed on you first."

"Yeah. But you could've killed me."

"I didn't want to waste good blood. You're my personal blood bank."

There was a pause.

"Do you know why I searched for you?" he continued. "When you beat my friends up, you went easy on me. I saw it in your eyes. I knew you were someone I could trust-even with my life."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"It means I trust you'll make the right decision."

I was quiet for a moment. Then I said, "You know I could turn you. All you'd have to do is ask."

"I'm good," he replied. "I like my human life."

"Well," I smirked, "if you were a vampire, you'd last longer in bed."

"Hey," he protested. "You caught me off guard."

"Whatever. I need to go. It's almost morning."

I stood, removed the robe, and went downstairs to dress. Ibrahim followed me.

"So when will I see you again?" he asked, stepping closer.

"I'll text you."

I glanced once more at the painting. "That's a nice piece."

Before he could reply, I moved-air cracking softly as my body vanished forward-and I was already gone, racing back toward my hotel before dawn could touch the sky.