Free The Hunger by Susan Squires Page A

seen. Her eyes were dark, like Beatrix’s own, but they were lined with black smudge that made them look exotic. Her skin was too olive but it was fine, and her features were finely drawn. She wore a shapeless striped garment with a hood that covered her from neck to ankle, tied at the waist with a rope net like a girdle. She hesitated at the doorway as though she expected something fearful .
    “Come, child,” Stephan encouraged her, holding out a hand. “No one will hurt you.”
    “Who is this?” Beatrix asked, drawing herself up. “I have no sister.”
    Stephan continued to hold out his hand to the newcomer. “Have I not heard you mourn that there were none like you your own age?”
    The girl — she looked a few years older than Beatrix — came forward slowly .
    Beatrix felt her breath catch in her throat. “She is like me?”
    Stephan smiled. “Just like you. Asharti comes from the city of three religions, Jerusalem. She was made by a Crusader who was one of us.”
    “Made! You mean she was born human and one of us shared the blood? You said the Rules did not allow that! And only born vampires are allowed to live,” Beatrix protested .
    Asharti looked at the ground, afraid, then up at Stephan under her lashes .
    “It is not allowed. But what has happened, happened. Is that a reason she should not be given the same chance at life I give to you?” He did not wait for an answer, but shook his head. “You will welcome her, Bea, because that is the only action worthy of a generous soul. I will teach you both, and you will be solace and support to each other on your journey.”
    Beatrix’s eyes filled, shamed that Stephan had found her wanting. He reached for the girl’s hand. The poor creature was so unsure, she was practically trembling. He grabbed Beatrix’s hand and joined the two young women .
    “You are both in need of a sister,” he said, in that wonderful voice Beatrix had grown to love. “And someday, together, you will make them all believe in the future of our race, as I do.”
    Stephan’s face, with its strong features and expressive eyes, fairly glowed from within. Beatrix decided she would not mind a friend, someone who understood her. But it was more important still that she not disappoint Stephan .
    She squeezed the girl’s hand. “Asharti. That is a pretty name. Do you speak Dutch?”
    “I speak the French better,” Asharti said slowly. “Robert, who make me, he teach me.”
    “Je parle français, un peu. Stephan, can I take Asharti to my rooms? That golden-colored dress would look very well on her, and it does not become me at all.”
    Stephan smiled with satisfaction. Beatrix flushed to know she had pleased him. “I counted on your generous spirit, kitten. I have ordered the servants to draw two hot baths.”
    Beatrix covered her eyes, trying to push back the past. Asharti. If Beatrix could have seen the future . . . But she hadn’t seen the evil then. No, she had been glad to have a fellow student of Stephan’s teachings. Asharti had progressed rapidly. It wasn’t long before she lost all shyness. It seemed she had lost all fear. Instead, the anger lurkingalways in Asharti’s heart had surfaced. From the perspective of centuries, Beatrix thought the anger and the fear were intertwined . . .
    Stephan rapped Asharti’s fingers with a small pointer as she reached for a handful of walnut meats. “Pay attention, both of you! You must know the history of your kind.”
    Asharti snatched her hand away, pouting. “Boring! What do I care for Rubius and some monastery and a fountain?” Her petulance warned of a tantrum .
    “You care because one day they may be your salvation. Rubius, the Eldest, and the Council make the Rules that govern us. The fountain is the Source of the Companion. And Mirso Monastery is the last refuge for our kind.” Stephan strove to keep his annoyance in check. Both Beatrix and Asharti knew it. It made Beatrix nervous. It made Asharti bold .
    “What if I