“I would have never gone if Zhi—”
“I know,” I said. “But you must be more discerning about friends and enemies. Sometimes one is difficult to tell from the other.”
I dismissed him and told him I would check in with her eventually.
I am heavy with my thoughts, Byron. I do not know why this burdens me so, and why I continue to stay on. Can she really mean this much to me? Have you infected me with some maudlin poison that weighs me down with its sentimental serum?
I must soak my fangs anew and rid the ache of her lost blood. Perhaps if I drink my fill of another, I can overcome my desire for her.
Later Still — I sought out the first donor. I could not bear returning to the one I had tasted before—Evelina’s lesser mimic. I fetched the redhead instead. Her blood had consoled me when I discovered my sleeping angel, and she had given herself to the novice when I had already taken so much from her. She was willing and submissive, and I had tried to drown myself in her taste to banish the other.
I formed my plan as I walked the passageway to the human section of the ship. The Empress had given me free reign, despite her desire to cage me. She was shrewd, and knew just how much freedom to offer. She would not test one like me. She needed me as an ally even if she did not know it.
The vampire guarding the donor’s cabin greeted me with a small salute and stepped aside after knocking on her door. The redhead opened the door and gestured for me to enter.
“Come with me,” I said.
Her bodyguard straightened his back, as though tucking in his peacock feathers, and I offered him a smile while I waited for the girl to dress for the outside.
As I escorted the redhead back to my compartment, I could not resist running my fingers through her fine hair. She was in front of me and stopped when I touched her. She turned and looked directly at me; she was not fearful, and her brashness dampened my mood.
“Carry on,” I said, motioning for her to turn around and continue.
When we reached my cabin, she stopped and looked at me again. I avoided her eyes, but smiled at her eagerness. She seemed poised despite the show of my subtle fangs, which had been out since I fetched her from her cabin. When she swallowed, however, she evinced the slightest trepidation and my urge to taste her was renewed.
I wasted no time with conversation and took to her the moment I shut the door. She collapsed in my arms and I laid her on the berth. I suffered the taste, but enjoyed the high. I was desperate to go up on deck to greet the night, but I sat in the chair across from her, waiting for her revival. I wanted to speak to her about my plan.
“Thank you,” I said when she opened her eyes.
Her body trembled, as she pushed herself up. I had a small decanter of red wine on my bureau for this purpose. My steward had brought a clean silver goblet, a carafe of wine and a plump stack of European cigarettes in case the Empress paid me a visit. I offered the redhead the drink and she sipped it after sitting up. She moved to the edge of my berth and sat with her legs crossed in front of her. She was a pretty girl—a woman, really—with a softness about her that I assumed was due to her role on the ship. She was demure, despite her show of boldness. Perhaps she was not as fearless as I thought.
“Do you feel better?” She asked.
“I am fine,” I said. “Are you?”
She nodded and sipped the Cabernet.
“I’m used to it,” she said. “I’ve been doing it long enough.”
“At what cost?” I asked, genuinely curious why she chose this life instead of death.
“The price is not that high,” she said.
Perhaps not yet, I thought. But what kind of future can she possibly have?
“We’re special, you know?” She said. “We don’t live like the others.”
I kept silent, knowing she would reveal more. She seemed to awake in a loquacious mood, almost as if she were bursting to speak.
“We’ve been chosen to care for the baby because we’re…” She sipped the wine again and sighed. “We’re real,” she whispered.
I did not know who we were, or what their being real meant.
“I can’t say more,” she said. “But I’m just grateful to be here, believe me.”
I leaned forward and led the cup to her lips again. She still looked peaked and I wanted her to recover. She had others to feed.
“Do you nourish those who come to the den?” I asked.
Her eyes grew wide. “Absolutely not,” she said. “She uses the others for the den.”
“The others?”
“The other group of donors, I mean,” she said. “As I said, we’re special because we care for the child.”
I knew she was lying, but I did not call her on it. My intention was to ingratiate myself with her, to convince her to do my bidding. “Do you feed many on the ship?”
“Only a handful,” she said. “The Empress does not feed on me, but drinks Lulu’s blood. She’s … she also takes care of the child.”
“Am I free to feed on you whenever I please?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I am yours.”
“Good,” I said. “And what about my—companion?” I could not think of another way to refer to Evelina; besides, if she was not my companion, she was still mine.
“The novice?” She asked.
“Evelina,” I said.
“Of course,” she said. “I’m more than happy to give to her, especially since I feel like she’s given me so much in return. I—I …” The girl sniffed and bit her bottom lip. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m attached to her for other reasons.”
“The child,” I said. “You have made her yours, then?” She looked frightened to confess but I reached out to caress her hand and said, “She needs someone to care for her, as does her mother.”
“Then, I’m committed to both of them,” she said. “I’ll go to the novice as soon as I’ve fed. Should I tell her you’ve sent me?”
“Not just yet,” I said.
I was glad to use the girl’s attachment to Evelina’s baby as a way to bond the two. I wanted her to submit to Evelina so she and I could continue our communion through the donor. If I could not drink Evelina’s blood, I would consume the same draft as her, forming a new bond—the blood bond we would come to share.
“I must go, then,” she said. “Will you take me back?”
I nodded and offered her my hand. Her warm touch soured me, as I recalled the feel of Evelina’s skin.
I cannot let it go yet, Byron. I cannot let her go and I despise myself for it. She has seeped so profoundly into my bones that I cannot shake her loose, though I try from one moment to the next.
19 December — Though I cannot know the exact date, I mark the days as they pass. It seems we have been on the ship longer, for so much has transpired, but it has not been more than a day since she woke in my arms. I have much to record and must temper my excitement. All manner of things happen at once here, and yet I am still at a loss about how to proceed. Complicated, Byron—the matter is most complicated. Could you have sensed Evelina’s importance as she sat with you in your chamber in the cathedral? Did you know who she would become? Perhaps she is the reason you gave up. I cannot know and your notes offer me nothing. From the beginning, then, I will recount the details of what seems like the most significant event of my long life.
It had been hours since I visited the Empress with her progeny, but she sent for me again, this time sending Youlan to fetch me.
“She wants to discuss your payment,” she said. “She thinks she’s found an arrangement that will suit you both.”
I did not doubt it, shrewd as she was, though she could not manipulate me. I can stall as long as it takes, waiting for her to relinquish the novice.
“Are you feeding well?” The Empress asked as soon as we had greeted one another with her formal nod. She was married to past traditions, and though I found her coarse, I admired that aspect of her. She was fiercely rooted to her maker’s ancient C
hinese line. The Great Xing Fu had made her quite the progeny.
“Yes,” I said. “Quite well.”
“And I’ve heard you do not visit the den,” she said.
“I prefer the privacy of my cabin,” I said. “Is that a problem for you?”
“Of course not,” she said through clenched teeth. The Empress could not wear a mask with me; I read her without effort. She took a third cigarette from her silver case and stuck it in her whalebone holder, setting it afire and smoking it with one inhale. “Cigarette?” She knew I would refuse. “I have said you are welcome to any of the donors since you’ve more than earned your place here.”
I sat down on the throne across from her daybed. She paced the cabin slowly, as she pretended to contemplate my reward.
“How is your progeny faring?” I asked.
She furrowed her brow and said, “You haven’t seen her?”
“Not since passing her off to Peter,” I said. “Who seems the best choice to groom her. Do you not agree?”
She drew in a long breath, almost as if fending off boredom. She had no idea I tested her, wanting to discover how much the novice meant to her.
“The preacher’s a fine choice,” she said. “But I may make a change after I’ve seen her again.”
“You have heard about the incident in the ring, then?” I asked.
“Of course,” she said. “Foolish act. She lacks discipline.” She tapped her tongue on the roof of her mouth and used one of her claws to scratch her head. “Humph,” she said with a small growl. “She will be properly trained nevertheless. She needs to be ready.”
“Ready?” I asked.
“It’s nothing for you to worry about,” she said. “I’ll deal with my progeny. Now, to your payment. What am I giving you?”
“I am still undecided,” I said. “I have yet to make plans, and until I know where I am headed, I do not know what I will need. Can I take a little more time?”
“Of course,” she said. “I won’t be upset if you decide to stay with us and travel back west.”
“You are leaving Europe?”
“I have business in the northern region on the sunken continent,” she said.
“America?” I masked my interest about her excursion, though I was genuinely curious how the world was faring over there.
“Don’t you wonder where my donors come from?” She asked.
“Not particularly,” I said, though it was a lie.
“Humph,” she said. “Well, if you want to see the region, we’ll be heading to the Nortrak in a few days.”
She excused herself, telling me she had another meeting to attend, and ushered me out of her cabin. I left with an auspicious feeling that faded as I went topside.
Up on the deck, I basked in the morning sun. The air was cool on the bay, and the stench of Vlad’s inferno had drifted out to sea. I walked the perimeter, recalling the few days ago when I did the same on the wall of my hill town. The oasis I had built did not last for long, and I wondered if it had ever stood a chance. Could I have been so lucky as to fend off the bloodless with my plants? The world is darker now. The hope I had clutched is dead. The dream of Evelina is dead. The life I had lived is dead.
I climbed one of the radio towers and scanned the trees along the water’s edge. They were peaceful, not a sound stirring for miles. It seemed odd all the bloodless had gone—Rangu and Veronica and Stephen had gone—Wallach had gone. Surely, they were hidden there somewhere, waiting, willing Cixi’s humans to shore. They must have smelled the ship’s cargo. I feared the water, but did not feel the same urgency I had once upon a time behind my walls.
The ferryman carted another group of eager vampires to the den, and I could see only six in the little ship. Most of them were probably finding it difficult to acquire the art that is already hers. I did not feel sorry for them, though I could have. Sentimentality for my kind was quickly drying up since coming aboard. I had never been surrounded by so many vampires at once. They were lurid creatures, especially when together.
I waited for Zhi on the deck near the entrance ladder, but paid no attention to the vampires who boarded.
“The novice,” he said in his native tongue. One was forced to speak Mandarin with Zhi.
“You have chosen for her?” I asked, knowing he had.
“The novice will train with Sibi,” he said.
“Sibi will not do,” I said. “She is not skilled enough to train a novice.”
“Sibi is an expert in many ways. She can teach the novice the basics.”
Evelina needed to learn more than the basics. The ship had already proved a hostile environment for her. Even if she came from the venomline of the Great Xing Fu, her maker was not the powerhouse she thought she was. “She is in danger,” I said.
“How can I stop that? She can’t hide from danger,” he said. “She must learn to face it. Her maker expects it of her.”
“She needs to be prepared,” I said. “Peter will obviously not do and the one you have chosen is too fickle. Suggest another.”
He picked his teeth with his pinky claw and tsk-tsked, and then said, “Do you know the Hummingbird?”
“Take me to him,” I said.
“I must feed first,” he said. “Ferry makes me hungry.” He slipped in through the hatch and I followed. We split when he headed for the den and I for my redhead. I was perturbed when she was occupied and could not serve me, but Gia was available and I suffered her instead. I brought her back to my cabin, as I had done the first time, but before I could taste her she said, “Do you want me to be yours?”
I wished to silence her, but her voice haunted me. She sounded like Evelina, though I had not noticed the first time. “Tell me about the child,” I said. “Is she well?”
“She cries a lot but Muriel knows how to soothe her,” she said. “Empress Cixi added another to our team—a den donor—she’s called Nan and usually takes the child to see the Empress. We don’t know if she’s—”
“May I feed?” I asked.
She nodded eagerly, and as I approached her on the berth, she whispered, “Make me yours.” I hesitated and pulled away.
“Why do you want to be mine?” I asked.
She blushed and my venom curdled. For the first time, I desired to taste her, wanting to draw her in as I had done with Evelina. “Ask me to feed on you,” I said. The girl was silent until I kneeled in front of her and bore into her gaze. “Ask me to feed on you.”
“Feed on me,” she said with her small voice, forced and strident. “Feed on me,” she repeated.
“Ask me to make you mine,” I said.
I held her in the palm of my hand, as she begged me again and again to make her mine. Her yearning gave me a slight thrill, even if it was forced. But as much as I tried to make her sound like Evelina, feel like Evelina, be Evelina, she could not. I dropped my fangs and bit her as she continued to beg me to feed on her and make her mine, speaking the mantra in her hypnotic state.
At first I thought it was the high that made me hear the sparrow, like I had gone into my own head, but I could still hear the begging girl and the frequency seemed to be coming from right outside my cabin. The vampire was at my door, and I pushed the girl away to listen more intently. The sparrow sounded with an anxious call; I closed my eyes, on the edge of anticipation, as I contemplated opening the door. When I had decided to reveal my counterpart, her signal peaked and her voice spoke out. “Vincent,” she said from the other side of the metal bulkhead.
I looked back at the girl in a swoon on my berth, but she was silent. The voice in the passageway spoke my name again. I thought desperation fooled me, making me think the voice I heard was Evelina’s. I faltered, as I contemplated revealing my truth, embracing fear for the first time and letting it roam freely. It could not be—she could not be—the one, I thought. How is it possible?
When the signal cut abruptly, I thought she had gone. The fear of losing her was greater than that of revealing her, and I raced to open the
door. I dropped to the deck when I saw my angel of salvation crumpled on the metal boards. She was unconscious and I pulled her up into my arms, as I have always done. The act is as natural to me as sinking my fangs into a throbbing vein or digging my talons into a jugular. Holding Evelina in my arms is innate, instinctive, and now I know why. She is the one, Byron. She usurps your place as my totem.
***
Entry 3 (cont.)
I’ve heard it said that when one is in some kind of accident, they’ll see everything slow down to an excruciatingly drawn-out pace. I don’t know if that’s what I experienced in the ring, but as the bearish vampire reached out for my neck, I witnessed the swiftest hand block his arm, and then another slice his head clean off his neck. I didn’t hear the sparrow until I looked up to find my hero glaring down at me. I welcomed the renewed sting of fettered emotion, as desire locked itself inside me at the sight of Vincent, standing over me with his talons still wet from the sludge of the decapitated head.
“Are you all right, Evelina?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Get up.”
I obeyed and pulled my heavy body into an upright position. I wasn’t aware that I’d been injured in the scuffle but one of my arms was limp. It hung loosely from its socket. There was no pain, and the sight of the injury didn’t faze me. I knew nothing of our bodies then, how they healed themselves rather efficiently, but still I ignored my physical state since all I could think about was my hero. He’d come for me—he’d saved me yet again.
Peter and Zhi appeared and Vincent expressed his disapproval, although I don’t actually know what was said between them since they conversed in Mandarin. “Tao meia weitze oahow wa bei,” Vincent said, speaking calmly. When Zhi swatted and hissed in response, I feared the confrontation.
“Ah, I see,” Peter said. “We must go.”
“No,” I said, wanting to stay with Vincent.
The Journal of Vincent Du Maurier Trilogy (Books 1, 2, 3) Page 27
