"What do you mean?" asked D quietly. To encounter someone not a Noble and knowing his father was a rare occasion indeed.
"Oh, just an acquaintance of his, nothing more. The sandstorm has stopped, shall we move on?" The parasite on his hand changed the subject quickly. It was correct in its observation, however, for around them, the desert was quiet. The winds had ceased and the sand had settled.
D could find no footprints of the stranger, but that was to be expected because of the sandstorm. But not even a scent of the woman lingered in the area. The sun, overhead, was setting behind the dunes. She had been careful, this one, to know that the sandstorm would be her protection from discovery.
He remained frozen on the spot, shuffling through the collection of his long memory, trying to recollect anyone or anything that seemed familiar about her. His past was full of many encounters with the opposite sex. Not all had been human or vampires. Some had been the same as he, dhampir. The rest were the children of genetic mutation and creation by vampire hand. Was she one of those? Or dhampir? If she were, he should have smelt and sensed the half of her that knew the call for blood. She had not seemed drawn to him in the same senseless enamored way that captured most females attention.
A low, amused chuckle rose from the parasite. "Oh, this is most entertaining. I have not seen you this troubled since the last encounter with the vampire and human lovers."
D clenched his left fist. "Perhaps leaving you in the desert to become 'a piece of beef jerky' is not such a bad idea."
"Rmmph…ar..omphursaand," was the reply. D opened his hand. "Oh come now, I am much to useful to you."
"Then remind me. Or momentarily forgetting may not be pleasant for you." D's voice was cold, void of any sympathy for the strange appendage.
"How far back do you remember, D?" The Hand's tone sounded odd. Sympathy? D had never heard that tone before from the nuisance.
"Everything."
"Remember the chain of parties your father threw in honor of your coming of manhood?"
"Yes."
Then it hit him. The veiled girl at the series of grand balls that had been held at the Vampire King's castle? Vivid images of the past welled up inside of him. It was ever so long time ago…
It was his sixteenth year of life, if a life is what it could be called. The Vampire King was in his prime of life in this mortal world, and the tampering of human lives and the world's nature had long been begun. The castle was alive with laughter and simple talk. The elaborate hall was bedecked with crimson silk draperies and gold accents. His mother and father were mingling with the other Nobles nearby, leaving him surrounded by a flock of young beauties, both human and vampire. Whether his father really desired for him to flirt and become enamored with them or not, he did not know, nor care. His brothers would have chosen several of them for intimate company, but he was not the same as they.
It was required custom for him to dance at least once with every unmarried woman in the crowd. It was a long night because of that fact alone. Lady after lady allowed themselves to be encircled by his arms and twirled about. None of their faces interested him, however, not even the one face that eluded physical criticism because of her complicated veil.
She had seemed taller then, for he than had not finished his growth spurt. Vaguely, he remembered the enthralling aura of sunshine and aroma of forest she had carried with her, but it had not entranced him long. He would have thought her human if she had not danced with as much or more grace than the Noble women. And now, as he remembered more and more of this mysterious figure, the more puzzled he became.
After dancing, he recalled the Vampire King approaching and bowing to this veiled woman and thanking her for dancing with his son, as was custom of the father to say to the last dancing partner of his son.
"My son is cruel not to show you more interest." The King had apologized.
"Not even a veil entices him. I am truly impressed." She had replied. The same bell voice!
He had been watching his father's face for a look of disappointment. It was expressionless.
"Then he is ready for the world?" asked the King.
And the rest, he could not remember. For he had cared little of his father's balls and guests and the meaningless role they had in his life then. After seeing the expressionless face of his father, even the most faint of interest in the ball had been lost.
The other Nobles had played a very important part in his life later in life, a tragic role to be true. For it was by his hand that many of them died. Eventually, even the Vampire King would be made to deal with again. But that was perhaps at the end of his long road.
But this woman…what was she to the Vampire King that he held her opinion of value?
D finally spoke. "What was she to the him?"
"A friend, nothing less, nothing more," answered the Hand.
D doubted that very much. He spoke no more and started to search the area that he had heard the scrapping sound come from. He found only more stone. No doors, no sliding boulders. He placed his left hand upon the ground.
"Oh no. I'm not eating sand. Besides, she just wants to be left alone, that one," called out the muffled voice of the Hand.
"Most do," whispered D.
At that comment, the Hand burst out laughing. "This individual is not game. Nor does she think of you game. Not human, not vampire, not even a mixture of both. What runs through her veins, I do not know. But she is not ours to hunt."
While the hand spoke, D had slowly reached for the hilt of his sword. He drew it out seconds before a voice behind him sounded.
"You are correct. She is ours."