Our Little Persian Cousin by E. Cutler Shedd
Our Little Persian Cousin by E. Cutler Shedd
Every one in the house of Abdullah was smiling on the day when a boy was born. Even Ashak the donkey, as he was bringing big bundles of wheat from the field, did not get half as many pokes as usual from the nail pointed stick that took the place of a whip, and was actually let alone for a whole afternoon to eat the dead grass and crisp thistles by the roadside.
Old Bajee, who was caring for the baby, ran as fast as she could to be the first to tell the news to Abdullah, calling out all the way, "Good news! a boy! a boy!"
"Praise be to God!" exclaimed Abdullah, and gave her a piece of silver money worth half a dollar. Laughing from joy she clutched this tight in her fist, and almost touched the ground with her forehead as she bowed to him. She had never owned half a dollar at one time except twice before in her life.
Abdullah hurried to the little shop around the corner and bought a loaf of sugar and some tea, and the tea urn, or samovar, was soon steaming. His neighbours-all men-came to congratulate him. Some brought raisins as a present, some melons. One brought another small loaf of sugar.
"May his foot be blessed!" they said. (They meant the baby's foot.) "This is light to your eyes!" "May you be the father of eight boys and no girls!"
Said Abdullah, "Praise be to God!" and gave them all small tumblers of tea that was nearly boiling and as sweet as sugar could make it.
Meantime the women were coming to see the baby. Old Bajee had rubbed him all over with salt; then she had tied a dark handkerchief over his eyes and wrapped him up in strips of cotton cloth and a little quilt. He was now lying by his mother. She was thinking about the Evil Eye,-an evil spirit or fairy who was always trying to do bad things,-and looked anxiously at the baby's arm.
"Where is the charm, Bajee?" she asked.
"Yes," said a neighbour, "he needs a charm at once, for he is so very pretty."
"Oh, don't say that," exclaimed the mother; "the Evil Eye will hurt him if you do. Bring the charm."
Bajee brought a piece of paper on which the mullah (or preacher) had written a prayer asking the angels to keep the Evil Eye away, and putting this in a tiny bag she tied it to the baby's right arm. "That prayer will frighten the Evil Eye," she said.
All this seemed very interesting to Almas. How delightful it was to have a baby brother. She wondered why her uncle Mashaddi had not seemed greatly pleased when a baby girl had come to his house two weeks before. No one had even called to congratulate him. But now her father was getting up a dinner party, and they were roasting a whole lamb for it, and cooking, oh! so many other delicious things. She could smell the onions even from the street, so she asked her grandmother for something good.
Grandmother laughed and said, "The front door cried for three days when you were born. But God gave you to us, and we are not sorry."
Then she gave Almas a big piece of bread with rice and meat heaped upon it, and some omelet mixed with molasses.
Meantime mother was sleeping with baby by her side. Her last words had been, "Bajee, be sure to keep the light burning, so that the evil spirits will be afraid and not get the baby."
When baby was just a week old, the preacher, whom they called the mullah, came to give him a name. He brought the holy book which was their Bible, and which they called the Koran. No one in that village believed in Jesus Christ in the way in which Christians do, but were in religion what we call Muhammadans. The mullah stood over the baby and read out of this Koran in a loud, sing-song voice.
Baby was frightened, and cried.
The mullah did not stop, but next made a long prayer in words which no one else could understand, because he was speaking in Arabic, the holy language which Muhammad, the prophet who had composed the Koran, had spoken. Then he called out, "Your name is Karim!"
Almas thought it was quite a funny sight to see his long red beard wagging back and forth while he made such strange sounds, and so she broke into a laugh, at which her father turned and struck her. She went out crying softly. She did not like the mullah. Why had he come to frighten baby? He had not named her little cousin. Old Bajee had shouted in her ear, "Your name is Fatima!" and that was all.
After this Karim was laid in a very narrow cradle without any sides, and long strips of cloth were wrapped around and around him and under the bottom of the cradle. His arms were tied down, and a calico curtain kept the light out. He lay in this dark little place nearly all the time for the first six months, generally asleep.
Although Abdullah was very proud of him, he hardly noticed him for over a month, because the evil spirits would wonder what he was looking at and come to see.
Once a day baby's mother would build the fire for cooking, and the room would fill with smoke, because there was no chimney, but only a hole in the middle of the ceiling. At first he cried every time, for the smoke made his eyes smart with pain. His mother put some medicine upon them when she saw how red they had become, and asked Bajee what the matter was.
"How can I tell?" said Bajee. "Babies always have sore eyes."
When the curtain was loose and it was not too dark the flies came to visit him. There seemed to be hundreds of them, and they walked all over his face and even into his mouth, but were especially fond of his red eyes and gathered in black rows around them. He winked and winked, but they did not care. Then he would begin to cry.
After a while mother would come to fix the curtain and rock the cradle, or perhaps-and this was the best of all-she would undo the wrappings and take him in her arms for a few minutes, singing, "My dear baby! my sweet baby! You are my father! and the father of my father!" She meant that she thought as much of him as of her grandfather, and every one always talked as if people cared more for a grandfather than for any one else.
* * *
I was dying at the banquet, coughing up black blood while the pack celebrated my step-sister Lydia’s promotion. Across the room, Caleb, the Alpha and my Fated Mate, didn't look concerned. He looked annoyed. "Stop it, Elena," his voice boomed in my head. "Don't ruin this night with your attention-seeking lies." I begged him, telling him it was poison, but he just ordered me to leave his Pack House so I wouldn't dirty the floor. Heartbroken, I publicly demanded the Severing Ceremony to break our bond and left to die alone in a cheap motel. Only after I took my last breath did the truth come out. I sent Caleb the medical records proving Lydia had been poisoning my tea with wolfsbane for ten years. He went mad with grief, realizing he had protected the murderer and rejected his true mate. He tortured Lydia, but his regret couldn't bring me back. Or so he thought. In the afterlife, the Moon Goddess showed me my reflection. I wasn't a wolfless weakling. I was a White Wolf, the rarest and most powerful of all, suppressed by poison. "You can stay here in peace," the Goddess said. "Or you can go back." I looked at the life they stole from me. I looked at the power I never got to use. "I want to go back," I said. "Not for his love. But for revenge." I opened my eyes, and for the first time in my life, my wolf roared.
Life was a bed of roses for Debra, the daughter of Alpha. That was until she had a one-night stand with Caleb. She was sure he was her mate as determined by Moon Goddess. But this hateful man refused to accept her. Weeks passed before Debra discovered that she was pregnant. Her pregnancy brought shame to her and everyone she loved. Not only was she driven out, but her father was also hunted down by usurpers. Fortunately, she survived with the help of the mysterious Thorn Edge Pack. Five years passed and Debra didn't hear anything from Caleb. One day, their paths crossed again. They were both on the same mission-carrying out secret investigations in the dangerous Roz Town for the safety and posterity of their respective packs. Caleb was still cold toward her. But as time went on, he fell head over heels in love with her. He tried to make up for abandoning her, but Debra wasn't having any of it. She was hell-bent on hiding her daughter from him and also making a clean break. What did the future hold for the two as they journeyed in Roz Town? What kind of secrets would they find? Would Caleb win Debra's heart and get to know his lovely daughter? Find out!
Everyone in town knew Amelia had chased Jaxton for years, even etching his initials on her skin. When malicious rumors swarmed, he merely straightened his cuff links and ordered her to kneel before the woman he truly loved. Seething with realization, she slammed her engagement ring down on his desk and walked away. Not long after, she whispered "I do" to a billionaire, their wedding post crashing every feed. Panic cracked Jaxton. "She's using you to spite me," he spat. The billionaire just smiled. "Being her sword is my honor."
For seventeen years, I was the crown jewel of the Kensington empire, the perfect daughter groomed for a royal future. Then, a cream-colored envelope landed in my lap, bearing a gold crest and a truth that turned my world into ice. The DNA test result was a cold, hard zero percent-I wasn't a Kensington. Before the ink could even dry, my parents invited my replacement, a girl named Alleen, into the drawing room and treated me like a trespasser in my own home. My mother, who once hosted galas in my honor, wouldn't even look me in the eye as she stroked Alleen's arm, whispering that she was finally "safe." My father handed me a one-million-dollar check-a mere tip for a billionaire-and told me to leave immediately to avoid tanking the company's stock price. "You're a thief! You lived my life, you spent my money, and you don't get to keep the loot!" Alleen shrieked, trying to claw the designer jacket off my shoulders while my "parents" watched with clinical detachment. I was dumped on a gritty sidewalk in Queens with nothing but three trunks and the address of a struggling laborer I was now supposed to call "Dad." I traded a marble mansion for a crumbling walk-up where the air smelled of exhaust and my new bedroom was a literal storage closet. My biological family thought I was a broken princess, and the Kensingtons thought they had successfully erased me with a payoff and a non-disclosure agreement. They had no idea that while I was hauling trunks up four flights of stairs, my secret media empire was already preparing to move against them. As I sat on a thin mattress in the dark, I opened my encrypted laptop and sent a single command that would cost my former father ten million dollars by breakfast. They thought they were throwing me to the wolves, but they forgot one thing: I'm the one who leads the pack.
In their previous lives, Gracie married Theo. Outwardly, they were the perfect academic couple, but privately, she became nothing more than a stepping stone for his ambition, and met a tragic end. Her younger sister Ellie wed Brayden, only to be abandoned for his true love, left alone and disgraced. This time, both sisters were reborn. Ellie rushed to marry Theo, chasing the success Gracie once had-unaware she was repeating the same heartbreak. Gracie instead entered a contract marriage with Brayden. But when danger struck, he defended her fiercely. Could fate finally rewrite their tragic endings?
I had been a wife for exactly six hours when I woke up to the sound of my husband’s heavy breathing. In the dim moonlight of our bridal suite, I watched Hardin, the man I had adored for years, intertwined with my sister Carissa on the chaise lounge. The betrayal didn't come with an apology. Hardin stood up, unashamed, and sneered at me. "You're awake? Get out, you frumpy mute." Carissa huddled under a throw, her fake tears already welling up as she played the victim. They didn't just want me gone; they wanted me erased to protect their reputations. When I refused to move, my world collapsed. My father didn't offer a shoulder to cry on; he threatened to have me committed to a mental asylum to save his business merger. "You're a disgrace," he bellowed, while the guards stood ready to drag me away. They had spent my life treating me like a stuttering, submissive pawn, and now they were done with me. I felt a blinding pain in my skull, a fracture that should have broken me. But instead of tears, something dormant and lethal flickered to life. The terrified girl who walked down the aisle earlier that day simply ceased to exist. In her place, a clinical system—the Valkyrie Protocol—booted up. My racing heart plummeted to a steady sixty beats per minute. I didn't scream. I stood up, my spine straightening for the first time in twenty years, and looked at Hardin with the detachment of a surgeon looking at a tumor. "Correction," I said, my voice stripped of its stutter. "You're in my light." By dawn, I had drained my father's accounts, vanished into a storm, and found a bleeding Crown Prince in a hidden safehouse. They thought they had broken a mute girl. They didn't realize they had just activated their own destruction.
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