The Journal of Vincent Du Maurier Trilogy (Books 1, 2, 3)

by K. P. Ambroziak

  “Loree jeen vu manja vi vaunt,” she said. “Pray paray vu.”

  I asked her to translate when her eyes rolled forward to scrutinize me once again.

  “Takhar has spoken,” she said. “I cannot help you if you do not understand.”

  “I don’t want your help,” I said. “I’m not scared of you, or your gods.”

  She sneered at me and said, “Your respect is wanting, novice, and your pride is tedious. Nothing will save you now. It is decided.”

  She slipped from the compartment so swiftly she seemed to evaporate before my eyes, leaving a faint trace of black smoke in the cabin. I should’ve known then what kind of trouble she’d be.

  Entry 5

  I can’t refuse my abductor’s offering since I can dry out if I don’t drink, despite Peter’s warning the lack of nutrients in animal blood will keep me hungry. I’ve a gut reaction to his signal now, knowing the eerie pipe organ means my subpar meal has arrived. He returned before dusk and filled our trench with woodland creatures.

  “Boa tura, novi chiat,” he said. The stink of hares and badgers sticks on him, though he keeps to the edge of the trench, guarding the ground outside.

  A short moment ago, he said, “Lavanda esta mini nunat,” approaching me, pointing to my left hand. “Chesta achesta?”

  I looked down and saw the token my maker had given me. I’d forgotten I still wore it. Swifter than me, he jumped into the trench and snatched my hand, holding my index finger up to inspect the ring. “Yal mel,” he said, swiping the trinket from me. He rolled it between two fingers and studied it, and then slipped the token on his own finger and left me with a carcass. I suckled the rancid blood until I felt some kind of relief from the ache in my heart.

  …

  When I searched for Peter to tell him about Mindiss’s visit, I found myself seeking out my beloved instead. I picked up his frequency when I reached the ship’s lush passageways. Several vampires passed me with canvases and statues under their arms, but they paid no attention to me, and soon I found myself standing outside a cabin I was certain was Vincent’s. His frequency was strong on the other side of the metal door and I pressed myself up against it to feel its vibrations. Since I couldn’t hear his voice, I assumed he was alone and reached for the handle to unlock his portal. I don’t know why I didn’t knock, but I thought he’d know I’d come.

  When the latch clicked, I pushed the door open but paused on the cusp of my trespass to whisper his name. His cabin was triple the size of mine and he lay in the center of a double-sized berth with his eyes closed. His signal called me to his side, and I could barely resist touching him. I sat down on the edge of the berth and placed my hand atop his. He didn’t stir.

  “Vincent.” I used my smallest voice, trying to imitate the girl I once was, when I was still frail and human and his.

  Evelina. He didn’t say my name aloud but I heard his voice in my head. Perhaps I imagined it since it was like an echo in a cave, distorted and far away. Evelina, he said again.

  “I’m here,” I said.

  Evelina, you must go.

  I ignored his request and waited for him to open his eyes and look at me and tell me to stay. When he repeated the phrase, Evelina, you must go, forcing his unspoken words on me again, I bit down hard. I bared my fangs in protest, and let a hiss come up from my throat. Like a small bear, I growled at the command my master gave me. I refused to leave my beloved.

  Empress Cixi cannot find you here, he said. You must leave me.

  My maker wouldn’t tolerate my attachment to Vincent, just as Peter said, and he was trying to save me from her wrath.

  “She can’t keep me from you,” I said. “I’m still yours.” Nettled by my lingering emotion, the back of my throat tightened and my eyes stung, though I wouldn’t cry. Instead, the sensation festered as anger, like any corrosive, and gnawed at my stomach.

  After what seemed like minutes, though I’d stayed far longer, I got up to go. I stared at him, willing him once more to open his eyes, but when he ignored my plea, I drew my hand down the length of his arm from shoulder to wrist, squeezing the palm of his hand. His eyes fluttered beneath closed lids and I imagined him speaking one last phrase: Byron must forgive me.

  I stood in the passageway, assessing the awful sentiment with which my enduring humanity left me. You’re a girl no more, I thought, but when you look at Vincent, when you see his face, when you hear his voice, you are still his girl. My feelings for my beloved crush me. Beyond vapid desire, my love for him consumes me. Because of this, I need him in ways I could never need anyone. He’s not simply a powerful and ancient and perfect monster whose incredible kindness has given me new life, but he’s also my spirit’s vessel. I live inside him, as the blood I gave in exchange for my salvation has rooted me within him. Traces of each other are bound up in us, locked forever, never wanting out. Vincent is me, I am Vincent.

  ***

  21 December. — The Empress insists her progeny prove herself in her first ritual battle. The novice is far from ready for such a challenge, but the arrangements have been made. Peter told me as much when he came to see me.

  “Mindiss paid her a visit,” he said. “She threatened her and when I spoke to Youlan, she confirmed it. Empress Cixi believes she alone is suited for Xing Fu’s line—I think she wants to get rid of the novice.”

  “She did not choose to make Evelina; my girl forced her hand,” I said.

  “How so?” Peter asked.

  I dismissed his question since it dug up a past gone forever, never to be returned. Whatever deal the Empress and I had no longer stands. “I will destroy her,” I said.

  “If you defeat Mindiss for Evelina, there will be another, and another—you know how this goes,” he said. “If the Empress wants her progeny to fail, she’ll stop at nothing.”

  I had meant I would destroy the Empress, but Peter did not need to know that. “She will not do it herself,” I said. “The venom ties keep her from such an act.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He did not understand because he had never shared Galla’s gift. He never made a vampire.

  “We cannot destroy our own—the preservation is innate,” I said. “But if one shares venom for the wrong reasons, without careful deliberation and a certain amount of affection for their novice, this is the result. It is the Empress, however, who is unfit to be a maker since Evelina is most worthy. What does Youlan think of the progeny?”

  “I cannot read her,” he said.

  “Can you hear the Empress?”

  “She is difficult to get close to,” he said. “She must invite me in since—I can’t read her without—”

  “I know,” I said. “Huitzilli is loyal, though.”

  “One doesn’t need to see into his mind to see his true colors,” Peter said. “The Hummingbird dotes on Evelina.”

  “Go to her,” I said. “Explain the challenge. Urge her to be ready. Seek out Huitzilli and make her ready. She must have talons before she heads into the ring.”

  He assured me I could count on him, and I do. Peter is loyal, though he is unaware that Galla binds him to me. She is one of mine. But even still, I can see his affection for Evelina; his allegiance to her is unparalleled, and he will protect her, as Galla protects him, and perhaps his religious superstition—his god—will intervene as well. I must rely on anything I can now, take every ally as they come. Cixi’s ship brims with danger, and we cannot make a safe escape just yet.

  Later — I am filled with questions. I finally visited the donor’s den, and am confused by what I experienced. Let me start at the beginning of my discoveries, however. I had wanted to speak with Youlan to see if I could get anything out of her. She has been a ghost since Evelina’s awakening, and her loyalty to the Empress is unshakable. Peter says she steers clear of the progeny and I wonder if she is not jealous. If so, she may be a contender as well. She was not easy to find; her frequency is muted. I recall its sounding like a stilted heartbeat, but perhaps I
had been mistaken then and merely heard her actual heart beat. I went to the blood den for which I had initially boarded the ship. She was there, ushering out a new brood of desperate vampires. The blood trade appeared to be going strong and I thought I would eventually have to visit the dens below. I wanted to see just how many humans Cixi had snatched for her floating cesspool.

  “You need not come here to feed,” she said.

  “I am here to see you,” I said.

  “Why?”

  I reassessed my plan to charm her since my appeal would be lost on the likes of her. “Who is your maker?” I asked.

  She stuck her hands in the sleeves of her ruqun, and bowed her head before turning to walk away from me. No stickler for manners, Youlan did not care if she offended me. Unlike the others onboard, she did not hold great respect for the ancient one. I stopped her, placing my hand on her shoulder and pulling her back to face me. She looked down at the deck, avoiding my gaze, so I put my hand under her chin and led her face up to mine. She did not shrink from my gesture, but returned my cold stare. She wore green contacts, hiding the true color of her eyes. With my hand on her shoulder, I confirmed it was only her heartbeat. She had obviously mastered how to camouflage her signal.

  “What do you want?” She asked.

  “I want to know the name of your maker,” I said.

  “The Empress is my maker,” she said.

  “Then you have been with her a long while?”

  She refused to answer, but for the Empress to have made Evelina and Youlan within a century and a half of each other, Youlan had to have been made shortly after Cixi’s awakening, which was possible.

  “Then you are also a progeny of Xing Fu,” I said.

  She stared at me with fresh vehemence since I had locked her in place, disabling her. A mercurial gift with a will of its own, I am able to block neurotransmitters with sound waves, preventing a vampire’s—or human’s—mobility.

  “I didn’t say I was from Xing Fu’s venomline,” she said.

  She played games but the discomfort was getting the better of her. The skin at the corners of her eyes wrinkled, as she struggled to move her muscles.

  “Do not bother,” I said. “Only I can set you free.”

  “What do you want?”

  I smiled, not having completely abandoned my attempt to charm her. “I want to know why the Empress is putting Evelina in the ring with the Fangool.”

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “I think you do,” I said. “I think you know more about what goes on here than anyone—even the Empress.”

  She scoffed. “That’s ridiculous,” she said. “I obey orders, that is all.”

  “Your maker gives you orders, then?” I asked. I needled her, wanting to break her will if she had one. “Are you not free? Or are you a servant like the donors on this ship?”

  “I am nothing like to the donors on this ship,” she said. “I am superior—I feed on them, they do not feed on me.” My inquiry rattled her, and I thought perhaps she had been brainwashed into thinking she was a slave too.

  “What do you think of the Empress’s progeny?”

  She smiled a wide toothy grin; her subtle fangs had dropped when I had reached for her, or perhaps they had been down the entire time.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “She’s inferior.”

  “How so?”

  “She’s vestigial,” she said.

  I shook my head, wondering what such a statement could mean when speaking about a new vampire. Evelina was far from rudimentary, and was in fact a prodigy. “She is perfect,” I said.

  She sneered at me and scoffed again. “You’ll see,” she said. “My maker will show you.”

  “Show me what?”

  She became reticent, like a machine unplugged. I repeated my question but even her gaze had dropped to the deck, her lids half closed. I shook her, but she did not respond. When I released her from my hold, she turned and bolted through the door at the end of the passageway. I am wont to disregard such elusive behavior but felt the need to record it still, though I got nothing out of her. I doubt any of it was truth since she must be from Xing Fu’s venomline if the Empress is her maker. But if she were, I would know it.

  Once she had left me, I wandered the passageways until I reached the weather deck. I heard Evelina’s signal, as she worked with her trainer out beneath the moonlight. I was careful not to distract her, but also desperate to see her progress. I knew if he had taken her up, he had forced her into the water. Dealing with her weight, gravity’s heavy toll on our bodies, was significant to her ability in the ring. She had failed to evade the Empress’s villainous attack because of it, and I regret not setting out to train her immediately. I hunger for the day when I will avenge her maker’s torment. Cixi will pay for her treachery.

  The cool night air greeted me with the delicious embrace I have counted on for thousands of years. I am more fit for night than day—the darkness is my greatest ally. I climbed the radio tower and listened to the sparrow’s hum. She was about midway up from the bottom of the seabed, still struggling to break the surface. Huitzilli and Peter watched from the deck, but I was ready to pull her up if she lost her race with the sun. I could smell dawn’s rise, as the fish in the bay skittered about avoiding their hunger. I closed my eyes, sending her my energy, though I cannot know if she felt me. She would be so engrossed in lifting her marble slab through the water that it would take all of her concentration. It was not easy to watch her suffer. I had never done it with you, Byron. You had never needed to learn to fight, we lived in an easier world then. Besides, I could take care of you.

  I was relieved when she finally broke the surface, and wanting to reward her struggle, I alone greeted her when she reached topside, telling the others I would see to her feeding. The sun barely kissed the water’s surface and I could tell she felt the sting of its rays, though she suffered the burn in silence.

  “Good, Evelina,” I said. I was so proud of her effort, I gushed—inwardly, of course. I ushered her inside, telling her she needed to feed. I had already arranged for the redhead to meet us at her compartment, and though it pained me to leave her, I had no choice. She could not know it, but she spoke into my mind, begging me to stay. It was difficult to pull myself away, especially when I saw her with our donor, but I would be strong for the both of us.

  I went to the vampire’s den. The line was short, but I was ushered to the front when the hulking samurai guarding the entrance recognized me and told me Peter awaited me inside. I entered the semi-lush quarters, its dim ambiance, romantic lighting, and intoxicating fragrance forcing any vampire into submission. The smell of the mixed blood was potent. I was surprised the vampires could contain themselves with a temptation of such magnitude. Human bodies were strewn about, the scene like an opium den where addicts went to while away the hours in a Baudelairean landscape. Peter found me, and directed me to sit with the donor he had chosen. “This is Hal,” he said. “He’s fed Evelina several times. I thought you might like to try him.”

  The youngish man had just been feeding another, his blood still dripping from his open clavicle. He revealed the clean side of his neck, and offered it to me. I would have refused had he not fed my Evelina. I was tempted to taste what she had tasted. I reached for his arm, pulling it up and biting into the vein on its underside. His blood tasted nothing like I expected, but it was familiar. Suddenly the sauce in my mouth threw me back in time and brought me to the shore of the Ligurian Sea, in the alcove on the beach with the three runaways I had brought to the hill town. Hal’s blood tasted like that of the Americans, and I stopped as soon as I realized it was tainted.

  “You’ve barely had a swig,” Peter said. “Ah, he doesn’t suit you. There are plenty to choose from. I’ve enjoyed the slim girl in the corner over there more than once.”

  “I am fine,” I said. “I have a donor awaiting me in my cabin.”

  Peter gave me a strange look but I did not reveal my suspicion
.

  I cannot share what I have learned with any of them, for it could cause a mutiny that puts the child at risk. I do not know for certain, and I wish you were here with me, Byron, to confirm my belief, but I think these donors are drugged, for they seem strangely unhuman. I fear they may harm the novice and so I must keep my Evelina from drinking the blood in the den. The redhead has to be her only source, and I must convince her of this without raising suspicion. I cannot even trust Peter with this. It may put him off too much. I have to discover a way of distinguishing the real from the others—perhaps the redhead knows.

  Later Still — Once she had recovered from feeding Evelina, I had the redhead in to feed me. She is called Muriel, something she decided to tell me before she left me high and satisfied. Tasting her after the donor in the den has confirmed it for me. She is unlike them.

  “Why are the others different?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?” She played coy until I seduced her and she told me what I wanted to know. “The captain knows,” she said. “He is the one to speak to about the others.”

  Apparently Captain Jem is human, though he can be a bit of a pig, according to Muriel. She said he takes liberties with a few of the female donors.

  “The younger ones,” she said. “But since the child has come to stay with us, he keeps away.”

  “The captain shares your wing?” I asked.

  “No,” she said. “He stays in separate quarters, near the Empress.” Muriel said he takes to the bottle and has probably been drunk more than sober since they docked.

  “Is there anything else I should know about this captain?” I asked, still dangling her from a string. She was easy to induce.

  “He’s like us, not the others,” she said. “But he’s not a donor—he dislikes vampires.” She whispered the last bit.

  “Do you dislike vampires?” I asked, teasingly. Her commitment to our cause was evident. Muriel was a model donor and surely one of the Empress’s prized passengers.