Failing to destroy Mindiss hadn’t seemed a possibility until my maker mentioned it. I assumed there was no doubt I’d win. Why would the Empress put me up against a vampire I couldn’t defeat? Was she really that sadistic, I thought. “I won’t lose,” I said.
“Shush,” the Empress said. “Neither of us have asked you to speak, Ei wai lina.” She scowled and gestured for me to stand in the corner opposite Vincent. I didn’t mean to show that her chastisement touched me, but I crossed my arms in front of me as I glided across the deck, and the Empress whacked me with the back of her hand as I passed her. My rage seethed, but I bit down hard, tightening my mouth. I waited for Vincent to speak up, but he said nothing.
“So, if she should fail,” she said, and proceeded to whine about Xing Fu’s humiliation.
Vincent asked her if she would not also suffer the loss of her progeny, and when he smiled at her, I wanted to retch. He acted nothing like the Vincent I knew. At that moment, I thought he’d abandoned me completely, and my fingertips itched, as anger smoldered beneath the embers of my furnace. I clenched my teeth to keep from speaking.
“At this point, I can take her or leave her,” she said. “Though I’ll not deny she may be useful to me since Huitzilli tells me she’s gained some control. But the delay of her talons makes me disagree with his assessment of her—control seems to be the very thing she lacks.” She turned to me and hissed and said, “Undisciplined novice.”
I was stone cold, unemotional, her earlier pleasantries hadn’t fooled me. She’d appealed to me with her softer side simply because it suited her. She thought she could sweeten me to tell Vincent I belonged to her and had no interest in being his. They continued to discuss my opponent—the Fangool—and I admired my beloved, as he refused to wilt under her dragoness eyes. He let his subtle fangs drop and ran his tongue across them, as he paced the cabin in front of the Empress and asked, “Is it not more fitting for you to avenge your own venomline?”
The Empress took an extended drag on her cigarette, biting the slim holder between her teeth. “Humph,” she said. “I see you think she means something to me.” She laughed with a cackle that sounded like the cluck of a hen. “I care little for Ei wai lina,” she said.
He said, without missing a beat, “So you will not mind if she decides to leave?”
How bold and brave is my hero, I thought. That sealed it for me. Had Vincent only misled me, pushed me away for no other reason than to make the Empress give me up? I wanted to smile, I wanted to rush to him and throw myself on top of him, though I clung to the corner and swallowed my passion.
But she raised his stakes, refusing to let me leave if I beat the Fangool. Her words were final and she threw up a hand to let him know there was no further discussion to be had. She blew rings of smoke that grew wider as they rose into the air. And just like that, Vincent backed down. “Then I shall avenge your progeny if she is defeated in the ring,” he said, emphasizing your.
“Good,” she said. “Now, to your compensation. What will it be? We’re almost done with the recovery at the museum. Perhaps you want to wait and see what’s new in my collection?”
“I will give it some thought,” he said. When she reached down for another cigarette, he glanced over at me but then returned his gaze once she looked up again. He smiled at her. “My plans are not quite settled, but when I go, I will want a donor or two to take with me.”
With that my heart sank. He was preparing to leave, and if he wanted to take donors with him, it meant he wasn’t returning.
“There are some I will not part with, as you know,” she said firmly and then smiled. “But I’m sure we can make some kind of arrangement. I know what you like.” Her eyes darted sideways to look at me without turning her head.
“I will let you know,” he said. With that he bowed slightly, and made for the door. He didn’t pay me another glance but left me coldly as if Mindiss had already ripped out my heart and I was no more.
“Come to me, Ei wai lina,” the Empress said.
I moved out of the corner and approached my maker. It was clear her softness had left her and I wasn’t surprised when she reached for my arm and snapped it from its socket and then whacked me on the cheek with an open palm. My head rolled to the side but I didn’t fall to the deck. When she saw me still standing, she placed her open hand against my chest and dug her talons into my marble flesh. “This,” she said, seething, “this is what the Fangool will do to you.” She didn’t actually tear out my heart but mimicked doing it and then rose several feet in the air to drive a shot into my chest, sending me flying across the cabin into the mirrored bulkhead. “Get out,” she growled. “Now.”
I pulled my broken body up from the deck and left the stench of cigarettes and her simian screech behind, utterly and hopelessly defeated.
***
22 December. — I have devised a plan to get Evelina’s talons out. When I watched her spar with Huitzilli after her flying lesson and she did not show her talons at his iron fangs, I knew I had to take drastic steps. Her battle approaches and without her talons she does not stand a chance. Muriel had told me Evelina seemed angry when she mentioned my feeding on Gia. I had not considered it before, but realize her jealous nature is the key. I will take a chance, hoping if I show her my affection, she will fight for her place. With little to go on, I am uncertain how deep her attachment runs, but if she is as territorial as I believe her to be, I have a shot.
***
Entry 7
My abductor is no comfort to me. I can’t converse with him since he’s incapable of using a language I know. I’ve tried to master some of his sounds, but I’ve so little to work with I really can’t distinguish a pattern yet. And I’m too bloodhungry to concentrate.
We’ve been on our own for hours—maybe days—maybe years, even. It is dark now, and the moon’s shine cools me. I’m chained to him. He’s shackled one of my ankles to his wrist, so that I’ll not escape into the night. He can’t know how depleted I’ve become. I couldn’t crawl up from this trench if it meant saving Vincent, let alone myself.
The fetid animal blood nauseates me—I don’t know how much longer I can stomach the ichor he feeds me. I’d do anything for a small drop of Muriel’s blood. I hallucinate about her blood. I’d grown used to the taste, the smell, the high, but I can’t remember when I last touched her pale skin with my fangs. The hours seem like years, and the days like decades.
“Che sta sta,” he said when he caught me writing. I held the book up boldly, expecting him to take it from me, but he waved it away and said, “Chiesti uman,” before returning to the pika he was skinning.
I don’t want to see my situation as hopeless, but unless Vincent finds me, I’m done for—I don’t want to think of his circumstances—his ignorance—if he doesn’t even know I’m missing … I must get back to the ship.
…
Once I left Empress Cixi’s cabin, I went back to my own. I could hear the clash of signals, as I roamed the passageways injured and angry. But I didn’t hear the sparrow as much as I tried to find him. It was as if he’d vanished, and I thought maybe he had. For the first time since my awakening, I longed for nonexistence, the state of being Vincent had spoken about in the villa when I was still human and contemplated his place in heaven. I regretted the life my maker had chosen for me. I thought I could live happily ever after with Vincent, but I was a fool.
“I like it,” Peter said with a smile. He came up behind me so unexpectedly I wondered if he’d been following me. “I have,” he said. “Not for long, though.” He pointed to my hair and said, “I like it,” a second time.
I smiled, though I felt self-conscious and lifted my hand to run it over my soft head.
“I see,” Peter said. “It’s a good strategy.” He could tell why I’d done it. “But only your rage can save you, Evelina,” he said.
He reached out to examine my arm, but I turned to the side, recalling the last time he offered to set it.
“Ah,”
he said with a chuckle. “Shall we get you to Hal?”
“No,” I said.
“You must feed to heal that,” he said. “Can I send him to you, then?”
I shrugged. Though I was hungry again already, I just wanted to be alone. “Is it still daylight?” I asked.
“About noon,” he said. “Ah, I see. Right, I’ll leave you to it. Go back to the cabin, and as soon as the sun is down, we’ll go up on deck, all right?”
He promised to send Hal to my cabin and that he’d come for me at dusk. “Rest until then,” he said. “You need to recover.” He reached out a hand to stroke my cheek. “It’s going to be fine,” he said. “You’re going to defeat her.”
“How?” I asked.
He smiled with his warm, genuine smile. “That’s it, Evelina,” he said. “That’s what you’re going to figure out.”
He walked me part of the way, listening but not speaking. I didn’t speak either, but I know he read my mind. He squeezed my hand when he left me, though his touch was nothing like Vincent’s.
When I reached my passageway, I saw Veor standing guard. He turned in my direction when he sensed me and gave me a confident nod, looking as serious as he always did. It was strange to think of it, but not all of the vampires on my maker’s ship were interested in living in a community. I imagined Veor preferred the company of humans, which is why he was a bodyguard. I wondered how he’d fare in the ring, if I could knock him down despite his size. He moved to the other side of the entrance to let me pass, but sneered at me, as I went in. His look made my fingertips itch, but I forgot my anger when I drank in Muriel’s smell, shutting the door on Veor.
“Hello, Evelina,” she said.
I made for her like a feline to catnip.
“Wait,” she said. “I promise to feed you, but I have to relay a message first. If I pass out and we don’t get the chance to speak, Vincent will be angry with me.”
I ran my tongue across the bottom of my top teeth with a closed mouth. My fangs were cold with anticipation. “Speak,” I said.
She sat on the berth, and laced her fingers, fidgeting as she spoke. “Vincent insists you only drink from me,” she said.
“I know,” I said. “You told me last time.”
She looked down at her hands and said, “But he’s upset you didn’t obey him.”
“Obey him?” My voice was deep, dark like my mood.
She shifted on the berth. “He wanted me to tell you it’s imperative you follow his order. He doesn’t want you feeding from the donors in the den. Just me.”
I was caught on the phrase follow his order. “Why isn’t he here telling me himself.”
“I can’t say, but I think he’s trying to—”
“What order?” I asked, unable to hide my anger. “He’s lost the privilege of giving me orders.” I grew heated, blinded by my own stupidity. I ranted incoherently, until I said to her, “Tell Vincent I don’t fucking take orders from him.”
The shock of the statement quieted us both. I couldn’t believe I’d said such a thing, and neither could she. She twisted her hands together nervously, my outburst clearly frightening her. I hadn’t realized how scary I looked, my aspect distorted with my rage. My fangs poked my bottom lip, as I panted, pacing from one side of the small cabin to the other. I must have looked like an animal, and she the bird, cowered on the berth.
“Please, Evelina,” she said. “Come, let me feed you.”
I didn’t wait for her to say it twice, and lunged at her, slamming her back against the berth. She stifled a cry, as I tore into her neck, only settling down once I’d tasted enough of her to calm me. She passed out before I’d had my fill and I didn’t stop. All of my rage—my psychotic maker, my betrayer, my captivity, my awakening—all of it drove me to my villainy, as I lost control on Muriel. I didn’t know there was a mechanism, a system in place that kept vampires from overdoing it as I did, and when Veor rushed into the cabin and pulled me from the limp waif, he tossed me to the deck, picking her up in his arms and shuttling her out of the compartment as fast as he’d rushed in. I sat on the deck in my stupor, her high carrying me to the edge of the abyss and over it. The image of the vampire saving the girl made the corners of my eyes tighten and I felt the blasted pain of emotion once again, festering inside, turning me to stone—or, perhaps, sand.
The hours waiting for Peter were dull, though I amused myself with the admiration I’d yet to pay my body. I stripped down and gazed at my figure. My hardened skin was perfectly smooth, like a statue, and my arm had healed. I noticed the body hair that had sprouted with my pregnancy had fallen away and my flesh had hair only in the most practical places. I reached for the hair on my head, and wondered if it would grow back. I hadn’t thought of that. My choice to shave it off had perhaps been spontaneous, and now I regretted my tresses.
I looked into the broken mirror hanging above the basin. Only a few shards of glass remained, so I couldn’t see my entire face, but I was able to catch a glimpse of my red lips and they made me smile. I let my fangs drop and admired them. They were white and pointy, though not as sharp as Vincent’s. I wondered if they’d get more pointy with time, like his. Would I grow more monstrous with age, I thought. “Will I become as villainous as Vincent? Or have I already?” I whispered to the fragmented face in the mirror, hoping she’d respond.
The tips of my fingers burned when I recalled my beloved’s betrayal. How he threw me away again, not offering to fight for me as he once did—when I was human and his.
I got dressed before Peter came for me. I heard his frequency alongside Huitzilli’s, as they both made their way to my section. We would go topside again, though not to gaze at the stars. “You are to learn to fly today,” Huitzilli said with a belly roar. “Come, Tepin. Let the Hummingbird teach you some tricks.”
The sun had just gone down, and I felt the lingering heat of the winter day. The air was fresh, though, and I embraced the darkness.
“We must first pray to Tezcatlipoca,” Huitzilli said, taking my hand in his and leading me out onto the tail of the ship. I was prepared for him to push me off again, but he didn’t.
Peter waited for us on the deck, giving us our space, I thought. When I looked back at him at one point during Huitzilli’s chant, I thought his head was also bowed in prayer. He held his hands in front of his chest, palms touching each other, with his chin resting on the tips of his fingers. His coo was soft, trembling with each word he spoke. He looked so peaceful, I wanted to abandon my chants to the Smoking Mirror and join Peter in his show of reverence for the Christian god. All at once, the jagged fragments of human emotion cut into me, and I let them go before they took out chunks of my insides. I renewed my effort to follow Huitzilli’s incantation.
When we finished, the warrior guided me back to the deck where Peter stood. “Are we ready?” Huitzilli said to my mentor.
“Is she, that is the question?” Peter smiled. “Ah,” he said. “Yes, she is. There’s no doubt she is.”
Huitzilli put his hand on my shoulder. “Then we shall rise,” he said.
He led me to the center radio tower on the ship. It was more than ten yards up, but my trainer took a few short hops and reached it. “Come, Tepin,” he shouted down to me.
I obeyed, and thrust my body upward, reaching for anything my hands could grip. My flight wasn’t as smooth as the Hummingbird’s, but it wasn’t too shabby for a novice. The tips of my fingers felt strong, as they worked to gain a solid grip on the metal. The ship’s surface was slick with a mist that came in from the sea. A thick fog was rising, and soon we’d be buried in it. I followed my trainer up the radio tower, reaching the small perch I’d seen Vincent on when I was working my way out of the water.
“Good, Tepin,” Huitzilli said. “Now look around you.”
I did as I was told and turned three hundred and sixty-five degrees around, marking all three sides of the shore and the expanse of sea in front of us. The darkness didn’t hinder my sight, and I remarked on th
e fascinating gift of seeing without light. “Can every vampire see in the dark?”
Huitzilli laughed. “Of course, Tepin. We’re nocturnal.”
It seemed obvious once he said it, but I hadn’t really considered myself a creature of the night. The hours the sun kept seemed lost on me, and only with the pain of my submersion in sunlight was I scarred by the nocturnal feature of our character. I will be a creature of the night for a long while.
“The fog is good, Tepin,” he said. “A gift from the Smoking Mirror—he’s happy with our prayer offering. Now, do you know how the hummingbird flies?”
I didn’t really, though I knew it was a bird capable of going forward and backward.
“She flaps her wings with great speed,” he said. “She uses her gift to connect with the air’s particles and easily cuts through the waves. The air obeys her and lets her use his body to hold her up. In exchange, she offers the air a hum that appeases his humor and tickles his wind pockets.”
Sometimes the Shorn One, with his blue and red scalp and the head of a jaguar across his tawny back, surprised me. His myths seemed illogical and his reason unscientific, but when I learned to do the very thing of which his myth spoke, my faith was renewed in my trainer. A leap is all Huitzilli’s magic requires.
“Concentrate, Tepin,” he said. “The Smoking Mirror is almost risen. Ask him to hold you up and let you cut his air with your wings.”
He leaned over and planted his forehead against mine and, as expected, wrangled my thoughts into his cauldron for safekeeping. He ran his thumb across my lips and my fangs were ready to catch the Toltec’s touch on their tip. “Be brave, my warrior,” he said with his rich tenor. “Fly, Tepin, fly.” And with that, Huitzilli pushed me from the tower, out into the fog.
I floated for a moment, I’m almost certain. I felt the air—the Smoking Mirror—buoy me up. But the sensation was brief and my body slammed into the bay before I could relish the freedom of flight. A quick learner, I benefitted from all the effort I’d done the night before when I’d spent hours getting myself off the seabed. I pulled my body up and out of the water within moments, it seemed, and was back up the ladder to face another attempt.
The Journal of Vincent Du Maurier Trilogy (Books 1, 2, 3) Page 36
