Ivy: Daughter of Alice

by J. A. Armitage

  I was weighing the risks of entering a strange, dark bar versus waiting outside in the dark when a passer-by glanced sideways at me. A shiver ran up the length of my spine.

  I entered the bar.

  “Dirty flamingo,” I ordered, as I settled myself on a stool, with a good view of the bar. Through the mirror across the back wall, I spotted Raven sitting at a booth, staring into his drink. Curiously, I wondered whether the liquid inside his mug was blood.

  “What’s a young lady like yourself doing here?” The barman asked, sizing me up as he slid my drink toward me. His words jerked my attention away from Raven.

  “Minding my own business,” I replied, sliding a few dinah across the counter and taking a sip. I relished the burn of the liquid, aware of the weight of the barman’s stare as he leaned against the bar and polished glasses with a rag.

  I glanced toward Raven’s booth, and my eyes widened.

  He’d gone.

  I spun around on my stool, leaping to my feet, and running to the door. Behind me, the barman chuckled.

  “Spades,” I muttered, looking in both directions along the street.

  Raven had disappeared.

  Again.

  Then a hand clamped down on my shoulder.

  I screamed. The sound of it echoed around the street.

  Then another hand clamped over my mouth.

  “Please don’t do that, Inspector,” a soft, deep voice purred in my ear, raising goosebumps along my skin.

  He inhaled, as though breathing in my scent, then he whispered: “Will you promise not to scream if I release you?”

  My breath was coming in shallow gasps again, and black shadows fluttered in my vision.

  A memory of the vampire that attacked me flashed through my mind.

  I should have gone home. I should never have come here.

  I closed my eyes.

  “Do you promise?” the soft voice asked again.

  I nodded. What else could I do?

  He removed his hands from where they were clamped over my face and shoulder. I spun around, taking a few steps backward, and saw my attacker.

  Raven.

  Alone in the darkened avenue, every inch of my body was aware of him as he stood before me with a smirk on his face. I fixed my eyes on him, determined not to lose him again, then wondered why I wasn’t running for my life. The truth was, I couldn’t move—I couldn’t even tear my eyes away from his face.

  Raven straightened his coat, tapped his fashionable cane on the ground, then tipped his hat and bowed. “I don’t believe anyone has introduced us,” he said. His expression was neither friendly nor ominous. The faint hint of a frown marred his otherwise flawless face, and he was staring at me with curiosity. As he straightened again and looked expectantly at me, I noticed the tailored line of his three-piece suit, and his crisp, white shirt. Even Chesh, fashionable as he was, would be envious of Raven’s dapper turnout.

  “I know who you are,” I replied. “You’re Raven.”

  Raven’s mouth curled up into a half-smile, and a light danced in the dark pools of his brown eyes. He inclined his head in acknowledgment. “You are Inspector Rowntree. We are not complete strangers.”

  I wiped the moisture from my hands on my skirts, then twined my fingers in the fabric, trying to stop them from shaking.

  “How do you know me?” I asked. My voice trembled, and I lifted my chin defiantly, although I’d also rolled onto the balls of my feet as though making ready to run. He was more alluring, and more frightening, than anyone I’d ever met.

  On the surface, he was gorgeous, and the sparkle in his eyes mesmerized me. Then a glimpse of the sharp edge of his fangs brought me back to reality—he was a vampire, and I might be his prey.

  “I could ask you the same question. Or perhaps this one—why were you following me?”

  I shook my head. “I wasn’t… wait, you didn’t answer my question.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “I asked you first.”

  Raven crooked his eyebrow as amusement danced in his eyes. “I asked you second. Manners dictate that a lady should speak first. I would not wish to interrupt you, Inspector.”

  “Please don’t call me that. I’m off duty.”

  “Pardon my manners. I’ve not introduced myself. My name is Mr. Raven Maddox Cappello.” He bowed again.

  I straightened my shoulders and dipped my head as I bobbed a curtsy. “Miss. Ivy Rowntree.” I frowned. “Wait—Cappello? Are you related to the man who owns Cappello’s Finest Hats?”

  Raven made an exclamation of surprise. He removed his hat and turned it over in his hands. “I am the man who owns Cappello’s Finest Hats. The best hat shop in this city. My father was a milliner. He taught me the trade from birth,” Raven cocked his head again, considering me. “Tell me, how do you know of my shop? It’s in a place well-bred young women rarely frequent.”

  “I passed it the other day—during the daytime. I saw a hat in the window I thought would suit my sister very well, but your shop was closed. I swallowed, remembering the vampire attack. “I haven’t been back for it.”

  Raven nodded without taking his eyes off me. “It would please me to show you my hats someday. I believe there is a perfect hat for everyone. It’s just a matter of finding it. Or, in my case, making it.” He flashed a smile at me, and my breath caught.

  I smiled back, dropping my guard. He seemed more imposing than frightening—with the self-assurance of someone who wants for nothing and is certain of their value in the world. Tentatively, I reached out towards where he held his hat in his hands. “May I?”

  Raven passed me the hat. A black top hat, well balanced, with a narrow brim that curled up at the edges, and splayed out at the top of the crown. The material was soft beneath my fingers, made from the finest silk. A dark blue ribbon finished it. I peered at it, considering its overall esthetic, and the workmanship to make it. “A very fine hat. Fit for a milliner.”

  He smiled again. I glimpsed the sharp fangs, and my smile slid away—I’d forgotten to fear him. I passed back the hat and fought the urge to run.

  “Tell me, Mr. Cappello, why did you buy me a drink at The Tea Party?” I whispered. “Why didn’t you stay?”

  Raven turned and strolled down the street again, pausing to allow me to follow. Without thinking, I fell in beside him. He held his cane in one hand and put the other behind his back and cocked his head to the side as though listening to something. “That sound is irritating, isn’t it?”

  In the night's silence, the Pinnacle clock chimed the hour.

  “Yes,” I replied. “When I can’t get the ticking out of my head, I understand why people would prefer it stayed broken.”

  “I don’t think it’s the sound, so much as the—”

  “Memories,” I finished. “Yes, I know.”

  “It is loud,” Raven continued. “Especially for my kind. It sounds like that damned clock is shouting at me.”

  I made a face. “How can you sleep?”

  Raven chuckled. “I don’t sleep. Not much anyway. My kind needs sleep only about once every month.”

  I raised my eyebrows at that information but didn’t turn toward him. Somehow he was less threatening, less maddeningly alluring, if I didn’t have direct eye contact with him. Still, I was aware of him next to me. As I walked, my eyes wandered across the dark, empty avenue.

  A thought occurred to me. “If your hearing is so superior, why didn’t you hear me following you?”

  Raven smiled, darting me a sideways glance. “I knew someone was following me. It was your scent that gave you away.”

  “You could smell me?” I exclaimed, then pursed my lips. “I washed only yesterday.”

  “You don’t smell,” Raven said, smirking. “You have a unique scent. I could pick you out of a dark room full of people, with a blindfold—just by your scent. Another strength of my kind.”

  I turned that piece of information over in my mind. “You knew I was in the bar, di
dn’t you?”

  Raven nodded.

  “And the tattoo parlor?”

  Raven nodded again.

  “Why didn’t you confront me there?” I asked.

  Raven shrugged one shoulder. “A test of your courage, your determination.”

  I raised one eyebrow. “And?”

  Raven frowned.

  “Did I pass the test?”

  He made an amused sound in his throat. “I find neither wanting,” he replied, his eyes sparkling again. I looked away before I lost myself in them again.

  “You still haven’t told me why you bought me that drink?” I pointed out. “Or why you left me that note.”

  I pulled the card out of my bag, its corners rounded and scuffed by use, and held it out to him. “You put a puzzle in front of me: We choose our future—what did you mean by it?”

  Raven didn’t read the card. He didn’t take his eyes off my face. “Call it a spur-of-the-moment decision.”

  I blinked. “I don’t understand. What does it mean?”

  “It’s a saying—one that I often repeat to myself: We cannot change our past, but we choose our future.”

  Raven started walking again, and I fell in beside him. We strolled in silence. The only sound was our footsteps echoing in the darkness and the semi-regular tap of Raven’s cane on the cobblestones. We turned a corner, then another, and I looked down at the card in my hand, still puzzling over Raven’s response. I was about to press the point when Raven spoke again.

  “You mentioned others fear the Pinnacle.” Raven blurted. “Are you afraid of it?”

  I gave a little laugh. “No. It’s just gears and moving parts. Complex, but just a machine.”

  “You’re too young to remember the Queen of Hearts, or to fear her,” Raven observed.

  “The late Queen,” I corrected him. “Yes, she died the year I was born. I’m not afraid of her, but I know other people fear that she will return.”

  “Nobody ever found her body.”

  “Mother said… I mean, President Rowntree said the late Queen was dead. She must have had proof.”

  Raven tapped his cane on the cobblestones, his brow drawn together as he considered my words. “Unless she wanted to reassure the people she was trying to lead. Unless she was soothing their terror of the Queen.”

  “The late Queen,” I corrected again.

  Raven looked at me. “There are always two sides to every story,” he murmured.

  I saw Raven’s eyes dart to the shape of my mouth, before returning to my eyes again.

  “You have the most unusual eyes—did you know? Golden circles around your iris. In all my long years, I have never seen another person with eyes like that.” He leaned forward as he spoke; his voice was like velvet, a sound that reeled me in like a fish caught in his net. Then he straightened, clearing his throat. “Come,” he said, his tone sharper. “My place is here. I wish to show you something inside. Something important.”

  He offered me his arm, as he turned toward a three-story house towering over the street, the carvings around the doorway were menacing in the darkness. A light flickered inside, and someone screamed.

  As the scream split the air, his enchantment broke, releasing me from his power. I jerked backward, stumbling on the cobblestones. Raven leaned forward, reaching out to me.

  His lips stretched over the sharp curve of his fangs, and I remembered the man from my dreams—an enchanting killer. A bloodthirsty vampire.

  “Get away from me,” I screamed, clutching at the base of my neck.

  Then, finding my feet, I turned and ran as fast as I could in the other direction.

  2

  20th August

  The sun was setting when I stood once more in front of Cappello’s Finest Hats. On one side ot it, stood a shop named Masquerading our Love that purported to sell both masquerade costumes and love potions. On the other was a taxidermist with a window display comprised of several stuffed flamingos and a hedgehog positioned like a croquet set. Distracted, I stared from one to the other, shook my head, and then focused on the task at hand.

  Hovering on the doorstep, I debated between running back home or pushing open the door. My heart thumped a rapid beat.

  The man was a vampire. A vampire in a city whose blood stocks were running low.

  When I had woken that morning, I’d scoured The Forge Hart for articles about vampire attacks. I had found nothing, but that didn’t mean there was nothing to find.

  When I’d returned home in the early hours of the morning, I’d found Mother and Pearl had waited up for me. They’d been angry and worried. I’d made excuses and hurried to bed before they’d chastised me.

  I’d slept until well past breakfast, but when I’d entered the drawing room for morning tea, I’d found Alice waiting for me. On a vase in the center of the table were five red roses.

  “Mother? Shouldn’t you be in your office?” I’d asked her. It was then that I’d noticed the dark circles under her eyes and her white knuckles where she had clasped her hands in her lap. She looked down her nose at me, pursing her lips.

  “I understand you are a woman, Ivy,” Alice had said. “You are a smart woman, capable of making your own decisions. However, your behavior over the last couple of days has been rash and poorly thought through.”

  “I’m sorry—” I’d started, but she’d held up a hand to stop me.

  “I’m not finished,” she had said. “It would be remiss of me not to caution you as to the consequences of this behavior. Really, Ivy, venturing into the…”—Alice paused, searching for the right word.—“more dangerous parts of the city? Alone? At night? It is not like you to take such risks. I’m worried about you.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Alice had raised an eyebrow. “I think I deserve an explanation for why I stayed up half of the night waiting for you to come home.”

  “I didn’t expect you to wait up.”

  “Is that all you have to say for yourself?” Alice had demanded. “Where were you?”

  I’d swallowed as my stomach twisted with remorse. “I took a walk. I met Chesh, and we visited a bar,” I had lied. “It’s what we often do of an evening.”

  “You shouldn’t even have left your bed yesterday. Let alone frequenting bars. You weren’t well.”

  “I told you I was fine.”

  “You were unconscious when you came home the night before,” Alice had said, raising her voice. “I don’t call that fine.”

  I’d smothered a sigh. “I’m sorry for worrying you. As you said, I’m grown. I may go where I please.”

  Alice had given me a hard stare. “You may be a woman, but you are still my daughter.” She stood so abruptly that she startled me, and my teacup had wobbled on its saucer, spilling its hot liquid. “Please keep in mind what I have said.”

  Now, I thought about our conversation again—and the row I’d had with Pearl when she’d confronted me about lying to her—as I stood in front of Raven’s hat shop. I looked at the hat I’d thought would suit Pearl and decided to buy it. Pearl was more likely to forgive my behavior if I brought her a gift. Besides, it would look beautiful on her.

  Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I pushed open the door to step into Cappello’s Finest Hats. The bell tinkled as I entered.

  My mouth fell open as I gaped at my surroundings. The inside of the shop was a cavernous room, empty but for a mirror on one end with an armchair next to it. The ceilings were high, which gave the room a sense of space, but along the walls were rows and rows of shelves that stretched all the way to the high ceiling.

  Hats lined every surface—in all colors, all shapes, and all sizes. For women, for men, for children, for workers, for daytime, for evening, for tea, for the races, and for balls. There were toppers, beefeaters, yeoman, derby’s boater hats, helmets, caps, bowler hats, navy hats, marines, half-moons, cross hats, bonnets, berets, cloche hats, fedoras, cocktail hats, fascinators, tiaras, and so many others. Hundreds of hats, at least.
/>   “May I help you?” A young woman came over, smiling.

  I looked for Raven, unable to loosen the knot of apprehension in my stomach.

  “I’d like a hat,” I started, when I didn’t see Raven. I stared up at the shelves that climbed the walls. Around the edge, was a ladder on rollers to allow the shop assistants to reach the hats on the highest shelves.

  “You’re in the right place,” the shop assistant said with a smile. “We have the finest hats in The Forge.” I noted she didn’t have any fangs. She didn’t appear to be afraid, although, as she turned her head to consider the shelves, I saw there was an unsightly scar running down the left side of her face. Surprised to see someone so unbeautiful working in a customer-contact role, I stared for a moment, then looked away.

  I wondered when the inspector assigned to this part of the city had been here last. I couldn’t imagine the young woman’s appearance would have passed that inspection.

  “Are you looking for anything in particular?” the woman asked.

  I cleared my throat, but before I could answer, another voice spoke at the rear of the shop.

  “Thank you, Miss. Lapin, I’ll attend to Miss. Rowntree.”

  Raven delicately placed a hat on my head, then stepped back to appraise it. He was focused—not on me, but on the hat. He tapped a finger on his chin, concentrating, as though the hat presented him with a puzzle.

  Without a word, he whipped the hat off my head and replaced it with another. Again, he stepped backward and looked me over.

  With a small shake of his head, he swapped it with yet another hat.

  “They’re all beautiful,” I murmured, eyeing the hats piling up on the armchair.

  “Miss. Lapin,” Raven called out. “Take these away, please. They’re not suitable.”

  “Yes, sir.” Miss. Lapin appeared out of nowhere and gathered up the discarded hats. She slid the ladder along the walls, climbing up and down to put away the hats that Raven no longer needed.

  “I like that one,” I said, as Raven put another hat on my head.

  Raven considered me, then shook his head again. “You present an enigma, Miss. Rowntree,” he said, his mouth set in a straight line.