Child of Shadows - A Sekh Vampire Novella

Seius Antonius Nicasius squatted against the wall in a narrow alley. A small lip of the roof above provided him with some shade. Even in the relative safety of the ledge's shadow, his skin felt like it was bubbling just underneath the surface. His ivory skin was quickly becoming inflamed with red splotches. Sweat beaded in his long, platinum blonde curls that draped his forehead. The droplets plummeted onto the dusty stone street below. He didn't have much time left. He knew that, but continued to press his small cheek against the wall of his temporary shelter anyway. He was straining his poor eyes to watch the kids just ahead in the main street, playing with a ball. "Pass to me!" one boy called as he waved his hands in the air. The ball was kicked in his direction and he trapped it with his foot, dribbling it back and forth with little difficulty. He attempted to kick it over his head and catch it behind. The ball launched in a neat parabellum of air. He overshot. The ball bounced off an angry hawker's cart....and came right for Nicasius. Unfortunately, Nicasius was nearsighted, and so did not see the ball until it was already a blur in the air above his face. His mouth let out a tiny gasp as he rapidly backed away, falling back on his hands and buttocks. His storm-blue eyes were wide in fear and surprise. He continued to back up as the ball bounced once, twice, and several smaller times, unerringly heading straight for him. The kids would notice his presence! They had already alerted the foolish boy who was the catalyst of this mess. The fool had begun to look around when the others came fully into view of the alley. They now pointed down at it. Down towards the ball and Nicasius. He continued to retreat, but his right hand reached back and felt a searing pain. He cried out and turned his head. He was at the end of his protection. He frantically searched the sky above. The sun was only just beginning to leave its zenith and the clouds hadn't covered it for some time. "There it is... Who are you?" a child's voice called. Nicasius whipped his head back around, clutching his inflamed right hand to his chest. The ball had stopped right at his feet, and a boy who looked to be no more than seven years old with tawny skin, coal-black hair, and warm brown eyes looked down at him. He knew that look. Despite being part of the greater Roman Empire, where everyone was mixed, Nicasius stood out with his distinct appearance. He was a native of Tripolitania like this boy. Yet despite his Nubian nose and jaw, despite his natural corkscrew curls, he was irrevocably different. He could lay against a Roman column and blend in. His eyes were like the sky just before a storm. He couldn't stand in the sun for more than mere moments. His parents had said he was fragile because of his appearance. His mother had used the word fragile. His father had called him weak. Unlike the rest of his family, he did not have natural protection from the sun. He did not tan either, only burn. In the relentless African heat, it made him practically useless because he could not go out easily during the day. Others only saw him moving in the shadows like a ghost. "Can I have the ball?" the other boy suddenly asked. Nicasius blinked and realized he had forgotten how to speak. He was being asked questions. Another child was speaking to him. How long had it been...the boy began to approach and Nicasius's eyes grew wider. He swallowed some of his fear and got off the ground, picking up the ball and handing it to the boy. To his new potential friend. The other child smiled. "Thanks," he added. Nicasius nodded back. His potential friend thought for a moment, then offered more. "Do you want to come play with us?" Nicasius studied this new friend. Standing at his full height, Nicasius was only slightly taller than the boy. He would be turning nine this year, but was still considered small for his age. According to his father, he was small. He didn't know any kids his age to compare. Perhaps he could start now. He gave a large grin to the smaller boy and nodded again. His throat was still stuck, and his tongue felt dried up. The boy grinned back. "Nakisisa!" The other boys had joined them. They crowded the entrance to the narrow alley, pointing and yelling, "It's Nakisisa!" His grin vanished. They had seen him hiding before. He couldn't sneak out often, especially during the day, which was safer for a kid like him than the night. When he did escape, it was only to watch other children from shaded areas. That is why they called him Nakisisa, Child of Shadows. How he wished he could play under the sun! He would sit and imagine laughing and sweating with other children until sundown in fraternity. Maybe he could even train with his siblings. Maybe then his father would be proud to call him his son. His new friend frowned and looked between the boys and Nicasius. "Is that your name?" his friend questioned. Nicasius couldn't believe his friend was still trying to talk to him. He didn't dare hope the smaller boy would stand between him and the others, but somewhere deep down, he did. He began to shake his head when the other boys began their cry again: "Nakisisa, Nakisisa, Nakisisa!" His friend's frown deepened as he turned to watch the other boys approach and point. He might as well have abandoned Nicasius to rabid dogs. One of the older children, bigger than both Nicasius and his new friend, crossed the smaller boy to face Nicasius directly. He spit onto the floor by Nicasius' feet. "Begone larua," he growled, doing his best to intimidate with his larger frame as well as his deeper voice. Nicasius was a twig to be crunched underfoot in comparison. That was another reason his father disliked him so much- he didn't seem to have much aptitude for fighting with his spindly build, poor eyesight and weakness to the sun. When your father is a chief centurion that's a big problem. "Larua, get out of here! Larua be gone! Larua, why don't you come into the sun?" The other boys added on top of the larger child's threat with various calls. Nicasius' eyes pricked with tears. He wished... He prayed... He felt the change in temperature immediately. A slight lessening in the roasting of his flesh. A cloud had come to briefly save him from the sun. His friend just stared in silence. At some point he had moved himself into the group. Into safety. Nicasius honestly couldn't blame the boy. He would join them if he could, but he couldn't. His window for escape was here and leaving fast. He licked his empty front two gums and swallowed, gathering his strength. Then, eyes quickly roving over the boys, he turned on his heel and darted away from the other children. He focused on the ground in front of him, letting his feet take him down the well-practiced routes back to the safety of his home. He zigzagged between buildings and under umbrella-like roofs. Pain licked at the bits of flesh his clothing couldn't cover: bits of his neck, his hands, his legs and, of course, his face were quickly becoming burnt. The clouds were fleeing that cursed ball of fire once more. The tears began to flow then, and he didn't try to stop them. His exertion was holding back any sobs. He was a fool to sneak out this morning. The weather has been particularly capricious today. He even dirtied his clothes...he felt a little guilty about that. His feet didn't slow their drumbeat against the stone roads until his home was in sight. He stopped next to a nearby building to wipe his eyes and catch his breath before continuing. He barely glanced at the servants standing in the vestibulum while striding quickly towards his room. His nanny was waiting for him outside his door. She already had clean linens, oil flasks, and a strigil for him to bathe with. "Salve, dominus," she greeted while bowing her head. He nodded as he entered, already beginning to take off his clothes. She quietly stepped inside the room after him and handed him a sheet to wrap himself with. He changed and went directly through the open arch that opened into one of the side passageways. This path was covered by a roof to their home's private bath. Most Romans didn't have private baths, and why should they? Everything from manners of state to lifelong friendships was debated in the Roman public baths. His face relaxed as the heat began to leave him when he stepped into the cooler room. Normally, Romans preferred warm baths to start, but his family went to the public thermae for that. He needed cold, not heat, and he easily used this bath the most next to his mother. He could not see her, but he knew his nanny was just behind him, laying out his things and getting ready to help him as needed. He lifted his sheet from his body and his nanny took it before it could touch the floor. Once it left his grip, he waded into the water and began to swim. Their private bath was not as grand as the public baths: it was a quaint rectangular room dominated by a singular pool. This bath was not meant for meetings and games but function and private respite. There were long narrow steps and Roman deities carved into the sides. A whole wall was covered in a tile mural of a great battle by the Roman gods. Nicasius never cared to remember which one, but it looked pretty. The adjacent wall held a prominent representation of Minerva, the goddess of the baths, the arts, and war. He liked her, as did his father. He continued to soak in silence then scrubbed himself down. His nanny waved him over, and he climbed out, allowing her to wipe his body and rub the oils onto his skin. He enjoyed this part the most. He believed they aided his recovery, and at the very least, made his body more evenly flushed. No clear signs of rule breaking here, except his tender neck. His nanny paid extra attention to where she knew it would hurt the most. Preparations complete, they returned to his room in the same solemn manner. The sun was truly setting now and did not hurt as much. He would be just in time for supper. His lovely enemy, the sun, was nearly asleep when he entered his family's atrium, the sky looking like a blanket of imperial silk. He had stalled for some time inside his room resting. Now hunger picked at him. His parents were standing at the far left corner of the space, across the green and behind the bubbling centerpiece fountain, talking in what sounded like a serious conversation. He could not see them well yet, so he moved carefully along the outer walkway of the atrium to get closer. His father, Sallustius Africanus Antoninus, had a humoring smile plastered on his umber face. His eyes, which held creases from squinting under the sun, held no warmth in their mahogany depths. He was reminded all the more of his difference when seeing his two parents and their earthen corium side by side like this. His mother, Cornelia Scipia Octavia, was wringing the hem of her dress in a self-soothing motion while giving his father a pleading look. Her eyes were a softer brown than his father's, and were speckled with sunlight. "-I'm happy for you Antoninus, but must we leave our home?" Leave? His light brows raised beneath his bangs. Where would they go? He could not imagine living anywhere else. Nicasius decided to keep to the nearby pillar and listen. If they hadn't been so absorbed in their conversation, they would've heard his footfalls the minute he entered. The servants' eyes had flitted towards him quickly, then away with equal alacrity. His father looked down at his mother with tested patience. Antoninus was a good head and shoulders taller than her. "You know why we cannot stay," he sighed. "Surely it is not as bad as you claim—" she began to argue. Antoninus held up a hand. "People have started to comment on him, Octavia. They speak of him flitting around the city like a-like a daemon!" Antoninus' pupils and nostrils flared wide as he called his youngest son a daemon. Nicasius' heart was a trapped bird flapping against the cage in his chest. His father's anger was something to be feared, even if he wasn't facing it directly. People really were taking notice. Even Nicasius could see that, but what could he do? He wanted to see more than this house. His parents wouldn't let him. It wasn't fair. It wasn't his fault. Antoninus exhaled slowly out of his mouth to center himself. Octavia had retreated a step, but seeing his father regain his composure, she relaxed slightly. His father reduced the space between them and added in a softer tone, "If it has reached my ears, Octavia, then it is surely flowing freely from the mouths of the plebeians." Nicasius watched his mother carefully then for her reaction. Her face was a clash of emotions. A single tear ran down her cheek. Octavia replied in an equally soft tone, "But where shall we live?" Nicasius had never seen such a large smile on his father's face as he did then. Perhaps when his eldest brother, Antonius Drustanus, was promoted to centurion. "We will have a villa outside Neapolis that will put this one to shame. My new position has come with a generous new stipend. You will enjoy yourself greatly, I think, decorating." His mother clapped her hands together with hope. "Then this is truly cause for celebration! We will dine with eagerness tonight." She took his father's hands and kissed them. This was his cue. He was young, but he'd already learned how to mask his emotions. His father was a glowing example. He stepped out from behind the pillar and walked towards them, making sure his feet could be heard this time. His enemy was already well below the roof. The news had been shared. There was nothing to fear now. Nicasius put on a smile and cleared his throat before speaking aloud for the first time that day. "Father, mother, what are we celebrating?" he voiced the question he already knew the answer to. His mother saw him first, jumping a little. Octavia’s reaction alerted his father, who said and did nothing, simply looking him over with an unnerving gaze. He felt pinned in place for examination. His mother's eyes traveled from his father's face to his own. Her expression was determined. She smiled, and her teeth twinkled in the dying light. "Your father has just been promoted, Nicasius. We'll be moving to Neapolis to support him."