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Unedited episode. I’m sorry for the mountains of errors.
The clouds clattered and the thunder struck –smiles dragged back on Alzarius and Lazarus’s face. They were happy the spell was successful. For the past fifteen years they had waited for this time. A day to find Ryan with the help of his long lost son.
The witch and the monk believed that Ryan was not dead but at the same time they were unable to locate him with countless of spells they had casted. The disappointment had made them conclude that definitely, Ryan was been hid with the help of a magic. So there was no way they would locate him unless they found his blood.
“So now that it has been confirmed that the boy is in town, how are we going to find him?” Alzarius asked, looking worried.
Lazarus grimaced, nodding his head at intervals. “I think I know a way to find him or perhaps someone who could help us with the search.” He said as the image of Meshach slunk into his head.
He recalled how he had always kept stab on Khalid when he was still staying with his mother and Meshach after Ryan went to limbo. As a very good friend to Ryan, the only help Lazarus thought he could render was watching after Regina and Khalid–and he was satisfied seeing Khalid with Meshach who was the head of the Lamiae. But not quite long after that, he noticed they had all scram off town. That at first got him unsettled but he later found consolation that they must have run for safety from the foray steered on him by the Larabas.
Alzarius raised eyebrow. “Who is that person?”
“It’s Meshach, the head of the Lamiae.”
“Lazarus, how are we going to find him? We really need this person in other to help us find Khalid so that we can use him to find your friend before it’s too late. I can sense that Ryan is pain and if care is not taking, he would die.” Alzarius said with concern spreading on her face.
The monk passed a long stare on Alzarius and sighed. “Why are you this for me Alzarius? I know you are a witch but at the same time the people that kidnapped my friend are your people even though they are werewolves. So tell me, why are you on our side?”
Alzarius gave a slight chortle. “Ryan is a good man and I love taking sides with a good person.” She said.
Lazarus raised an eyebrow. “Does that mean you are not taking side with the lamiae?” He asked hoping the answer should be negative.
Alzarius scoffed. “I don’t take side with any group, Lazarus. I only take side with a good person.” She stared at him while the bearded man swallowed.
“I think I’m a good per’s..”
“Lazarus, you need to find Khalid now before it’s too late saving his father!” The witch prated cutting off the monk.
Meshach posed a scrutinizing look on the monk before heaving a sigh. He was not an enemy. The monk apparently had a vampire blood in his system. Right from the time Ryan saved him from Alzarius’ attack on him more than thirty years ago, Lazarus had become a vampire while he also adhered to his monastic rules. Even though he now fed animal’s blood for survival, he still endeavoured to stick around the rules guiding his monastic nature.
“You are also a Lamia?” Meshach asked, walking back to take his seat. “What do you want?”
Meshach coughed slightly, rubbed his fugly beard and smirked–this was something he was fond of doing whenever he wanted to make goofy of himself.
“I want you to take me to Khalid.” He said grimly, not mincing words.
Meshach stood abruptly and pranced towards the monk. “Who are you exactly?”
“Let just say I’m some one who want to meet Ryan’s son.” Lazarus dropped another petard and simmered to have nice watch of the anxiousness brewing inside Meshach, because he knew he had plunked him into the state of confusion.
“What do you know about Ryan’s son?”Meshach quizzed, intensifying his glare on the old man. Thick fugly beard and greyish hair on his head greeted his eyes telling him the monk was an old man. But Meshach practically knew that he maybe old but that didn’t mean the he was older him.
Meshach had spent over 370 years on earth. He was bitten at the age of 27 and ever since then, he had become ageless. He had witnessed centuries upon centuries and had always fled places he spent decades just to prevent risking exposure. However, he had decided to stay put in Laraba town for longer times due to the prophesy he wanted to orchestrate himself.
“I know enough to tell you that he was fostered up by you and Regina till she was killed and you had to dumb Khalid in the city and scram off.”
“I didn’t dumb him.”Meshach clenched his fist and snarled. “I did what had to be done to make him survive the task ahead of him. And mind you, my eyes have always been on him for the past 15 years, monitoring his movements and so I need you to know I’ve never abandoned that boy.” Meshach blurted, while happiness climbed on the monk’s heart.
Lazarus grinned at the Meshach. “You said you’ve been monitoring his movement so how about you tell me where I can find him right now.” He said, still rubbing his beard.
Meshach scoffed and started to pace round the monk. “What do you need from Khalid if I may ask?” He stopped walking and stared at him.
Lazarus moved away from the monk’s face, walked to nearby a chair and sank himself on it. “Because we need him to locate where his father is.”
Meshach plunked into a wild jape. That was the most absurd words he had heard in centuries. To him, Ryan was dead. If though they couldn’t find his corpse–still he believed he was gone. Ryan was a powerful hybrid who could not be captured for that very long time. It was either he was dead and gone for good or he was looser for going limbo all this while.
Meshach sank in a chair beside the monk and crossed his legs. “You know what you just said is an incredibly nonsense. I don’t believe you. Ryan is no more alive you need to get that.”
Lazarus stared at him grimly. “I don’t need you to believe me. I only need you to tell me where to find Khalid.”
Meshach quit staring at the monk and shrugged. “Just a second then.” He pleaded and delved out his phone from his pocket. Punched on the keypads for some time before glaring back the monk.
“You will meet him here, same time next week.”
Jamal and his foster-father had remained taciturn to each other after his father ludicrous request of him getting married to Adriana. While Jamal had gone about to attend his normal daily activities, Rominick had spent his time on methods to coerce Jamal to go by his biddings.
He really needed him not to derail so he wouldn’t ruin his mission. But Jamal was so obstinate and didn’t even give a dam about his threat. He was ready to surrender his medical license, and give up his medical dream just to respect his wish. Tamara was the only person she could have ever taken as wife not just any woman. But now that Tamara wasn’t here NOBODY would replace her.
Phone buzzed. Rominick checked his phone. A skanky smile mounted his lips as he noticed it was a forwarded message from Jamal. One of the method Rominick had employed to monitor him was bugging his phone so as have access to his privacy.
“Been a while son. This Meshach. Meet me at the old cabin this time next week to know more information about your real father–Ryan Jericho. HE IS NOT DEAD JUST AS WE THOUGHT!”
Sweat swarm across Rominick’s pores as he read the message. Different types of complications just kept unavailing about his foster-son. He wondered how many of such complication he was yet to find out. He quickly dialed a number on the phone and brought it to his ear.
“Hello boss.” A guttural voice wafted over.
“Jamal, he still have a father. I need you to find him before he does.” He said calmly, wavering aside the pleasantries.
The other person over the phones seemed confused. What Rominick said was distorted enough to cause confusion in the head of a genius.
“You mean Jamal’s biological father is still alive ?”
Rominick scoffed. “Quit asking dumb question and get to work idiot. I need you to find him before anyone does.” He yelled and yanked the phone away from his ear.
Hilton entered the room and probed around. His eyes met Tamara and her daughter sitting on a chair. He pranced towards them and dropped the package he was holding in front of Amanda.
“Ice cream for you.” He announced as he sank himself in a chair beside Tamara.
Tamara’s face morphed into a frown as she passed an askance glance at the plate. “Why are you doing this?” She quizzed.
Hilton shrugged. “I don’t know, you tell me.” He lied because he knew why. Who was he deceiving? He knew and knew that he was having this feelings towards Tamara. The feelings that surpassed what he felt for his coquettes. He didn’t want bring himself to think it was fetid fostering such feelings towards the girl that Jamal had rued over all his life. He was supposed to plan their reunion but here he was flirting with her.
“I think we should leave here immediately.” Tamara said slicing through his thought.
His heart bruised hearing what Tamara said but he decided to shroud the pain. “Really?” He scoffed. “Is that a thank-you for saving and your daughter?”
“Thank you, Hilton.” She muttered flippantly. “But we’re leaving.”
Hilton stood up and stooped in front Tamara. He reached for her hand. “I don’t want you to leave now. Please stay here. It’s save here.”
Tamara scoffed, and eyeballed him.
“You are beautiful Tamara.” Hilton confessed as he glared at her. Truthfully, Tamara was beautiful. Her face was emerald, unlined and soft. Her eyes was searching, hazel and oval; her lips–that could cause esurient and make one stared at it for years without being tired of staring.
Tamara’s heart throbbed. The last time she heard those word was 15 years ago inside the cave with Khalid–the man of her dream.
“Thank you.” She said again and waited for the uncomfortable silence between them.
Hilton coughed and braved himself up say what his heart was daring him to say but his gut was cautioning him not to.
“Tamara, I love you.”
Immediately he said those words, Tamara yanked her hand from him and stabbed him a keen stare. The words were heavy and she had never heard it from anyone in his life. No even Khalid.
“Thank you but don’t be an idiot. I can’t love you. I won’t love you.”
Hilton sighed. “I know, because you loved someone else right?”
“And where is he when you needed help?” He asked, studying her next reaction.
“He is dead!” She said grimly.
“He is dead and you still love him?”
“Does death determines what the heart truly wants for you?” She fired back.
Hilton swallowed. “Not at all.”
“But are you sure this man is dead?” He asked as he unconsciously tilted his head towards the angle where Jamal’s portait had been hanging on the wall for decades.
“I am s….” She paused as she followed the Hilton’s eyes to the wall. A portrait was beaming at her. She stood up and hied towards it to take good dose of the person inside the portrait.