"Gotcha," I thought to myself as I spied the cute gal in the Hijab staring at me, with a mixture of fascination and disapproval in her eyes. Clad in a long-sleeved Black T-shirt over a traditional long skirt and Black sneakers, she seemed the very picture of piety and respectability, according to the norms of her Islamic faith, which I once followed quite fervently. Ah, the things you miss when you quit breathing...
Seated on the crowded bus heading to downtown Ottawa, I had to smile. When you're what I am, a student of human nature by necessity as much as by choice, an endless stream of things amuse you. It's been ages since I last saw the light of day, over a century in fact, yet I still find myself drawn to the world I left behind. The people of Africa and the Middle East draw me in. Even after all these years, it's the blood in my veins...
It had gotten dark forty five minutes earlier, and I felt safe to leave my lair in the suburb of Barrhaven, Ontario, and headed downtown. Winter had come to the Capital of Canada, and I welcomed it, for it meant longer nights and shorter days. I was bored and looking for some fun, like all of those young people in the bright shirts and short skirts, who surrounded me on the bus. They're so lively and pretty, glowing with life, the blood pounding in their veins...
"Salaam, how are you?" I said, speaking softly, and the Hijab-wearing gal, a plump, bronze-skinned, rather pretty young woman actually blinked in surprise. I smiled at her, trying to appear as nonthreatening as possible. In mortal life, I certainly looked nonthreatening enough. Five-foot-nine, a bit on the curvy side, with light brown skin and long, curly dark hair, I still looked very much like the young Somali woman I once was.
"Salaam, sister, are you from East Africa?" Miss Hijab asked me, her voice soft and shy, and I nodded. I recognized her accent. If I'm not mistaken, she must be from Yemen. I'd roamed the world for ages, and wandered across Africa and the Middle east, and that's just for starters. My travels had taken me as far as Mexico, come to think of it. Mortals form attachment to lands, not my kind. We're doomed to wander the earth for all eternity, after all, Undead and homeless...
Once upon a time, the beautiful City of Hargeisa, Somalia, was my home. My father, Shaykh Maddar, the legendary Koranic teacher and Founder of Hargeisa, ruled this place long before my birth. I was born to Shaykh Maddar's wife Nagla Dagher, a lovely and headstrong Yemeni Muslim woman whose love for her African Muslim husband drove her to leave her hometown of Al Moukalla, and her close-minded family. In those days, like today, the Arabs loathed seeing foreign men, especially African men, with 'their' women.
My father Shaykh Maddar founded the City of Hargeisa, Somalia, for a reason. It was to be his family's refuge from persecution at the hands of his wife's family, the powerful Dagher clan of Yemen. I guess that given such unique parentage, one could say that I was destined for an eventful life. That's what I tell myself, when I think of how catastrophically wrong everything has gone...
I, Hodan Maddar, grew up to be tall, curvy and attractive, the product of African and Arabian bloodlines. I was a proud Muslim, the daughter of a Sheikh, and I was to marry a young man named Ali, from the Ugaar Saleeban clan, but it was not to be. The night before my wedding, a monster came to the town of Hargeisa, and I was one of those he attacked. I thought I'd die, but something far worse occurred...
The monster turned out to be a vampire, one that had made itself at home in the body of Ali Elmi, the young Somali man I was supposed to marry. Ali turned me into a vampire, and when I arose from my grave, three days after the attack, I was...changed. Now I am a soulless thing that comes out at night, eager to drink the blood of the living. It's what I do, and I can't help myself. We've all got to eat...
"Yes, I am Hodan," I replied, smiling at the lovely young woman, and that's how it all began. I began seeking my next victim. Miss Hijab introduced herself as Khadija Basha, a newcomer to the City of Ottawa, Ontario, by way of Zinjibar, Southern Yemen. I left the swivel seats, my habitual spot on the bus, and came to sit next to my new pal. The gal looked good and smelled even better, and she seemed genuinely friendly. This would make everything all too easy...
"I knew you had to be Somali, we have a lot of Somalis in my homeland of Yemen," Khadija said, smiling. I nodded, and looked into her eyes. One look into those golden brown orbs and I knew that Khadija was different. Like me. In my mortal days, I loved both men and women. I saw no reason to change my preferences when I become a blood drinker. When Khadija looked at me, I sensed that we were birds of a feather. How about that?
We talked some more, and I learned that Khadija was studying business management at Carleton University. Cute and smart, I thought, wryly amused. The bus sped through Nepean, and swiftly arrived in downtown Ottawa. Khadija, who'd been on her way to the movies, didn't mind having me tag along. We went to the Scotiabank Theater in the east end, and watched Molly's Game.
"This was a fun movie," I said to Khadija, as we walked around the nearby Gloucester area, after exiting the movie theater. Khadija smiled and looked at me, checking me out in the discreet way that women who love women tend to do it. Khadija locked eyes with me, and I smiled faintly, knowing that she liked what she saw. Good, at least we're on the same page.
On that particular evening, I had on a Black leather jacket, with a red tank top and a Black leather miniskirt, with thigh-high Black leather boots. I looked like a temptress from hell, with an outfit straight out of a Marilyn Manson video, and Miss Hijab had the hots for me. We went into the Blair Mall and sat down while drinking Pepsis, having ourselves a nice little chat...
"So, how did you know about me?" Khadija asked, looking right into my eyes, and I smiled and brushed my hand against hers. She looked at my hand, smiled and did not move hers away. I took a deep breath, mostly for effect because, as I said before, breathing is not a requirement for my kind. I licked my lips, and felt Khadija tense, and watched her shift in her seat. I was getting to her without trying...
