“Do you know why I have come?” He spoke softly, his rich voice almost a whisper in the small compartment.
I exhaled slowly, and said, “I don’t care, I’m simply glad you’re here.” It makes me smile to recall saying that. It was the first time I felt at liberty to confess my desire, to show him that I wanted to be his. Part of me felt as though it were a dream, like a moment that didn’t actually take place but was sewn into my life quilt sometime after it was made, a stray piece of fabric that will forever be my favorite patch in the entire patchwork. I cling to that moment now in my despair. I cling to it with my life.
He drew in a breath and held it for a moment, releasing it as he said my name, Evelina. “Sweet Evelina,” he said. “What have I done?”
I’d never seen Vincent quite like this, tender and careful, speaking with a lover’s tone. I bit my lip, willing myself not to speak.
When I looked down at his hands beneath mine, I saw them quiver, and then he slid his left hand out and touched my chin, guiding my face up to meet his gaze. “Listen to me, Evelina,” he said. “You must obey me now. You cannot drink the blood of any other. Only Muriel’s.”
His voice lulled me into a trance, and beneath his words I heard the soft strum of two sparrows serenading one another. I stared into his face, the face I’d forever see as my salvation, and fell into his gaze. I’d never seen his eyes so blue, so cold like ice. They drew me to him and I was lost.
“Evelina,” he said. “Have you heard my command?”
I nodded like an automaton, trapped in his stare.
“Repeat it for me,” he said.
“I cannot drink the blood of any other. Only Muriel’s,” I said like a robot.
“Yes,” he said and smiled. “Yes, my sweet Evelina, that is my command.”
Please kiss me.
I thought I’d said the words aloud, but I couldn’t have. He held my mind in his, as well as my will. I couldn’t speak without impediment, let alone think for myself. But he read my mind and leaned in closer. With his hand still gently holding my chin, he led my lips up to his mouth and held them there, suspended on the cusp of a kiss, our lips never actually touching but our souls passing through each other with bated breath.
I will confess I cling to that embrace, as I waste away here beneath the sunlight. That intimate exchange keeps me alive now. It’s my hope that he will come. It alone is my hope.
He broke our embrace as gently as he’d made it and left me then. But not without gazing at me one last time from afar. He stood at the door before opening it, an unspoken phrase hanging on his lips. I didn’t realize I’d brought my hand up to the mouth he hadn’t kissed, and held it there until long after we’d parted, my body suffering the sparks of electricity he’d left in my bones.
…
Once Vincent was gone, Peter returned and took me to my compartment. There was little to say between us. He knew everything instantly, though he engaged me in conversation about other things, as we walked back to my section.
“She hasn’t told you yet, then?” He asked.
“You can read minds,” I said. “Not me, remember?”
“Ah, sorry,” he said. “Your maker. She hasn’t told you about the donors on the ship?”
“No,” I said. I tried not to think about what Muriel had told me, what Vincent had commanded, but it was pointless.
“I see,” he said. “I wonder why he didn’t tell me. I certainly wouldn’t have brought Hal if I’d known—huh—and neither of them said why?” I didn’t answer. “Right,” he said. “Well, I’ll see what I can find out, though I don’t get many opportunities to meet with the Empress.”
“What about her assistant?” I asked.
“Youlan?” He chuckled. “It’s true she’d know a lot about her mistress, but unfortunately, I can’t reach her—I assume she’s older than me.”
“Can you take me to see Muriel?” I hadn’t meant to change the subject, but suddenly I felt the urge to see her. I’d wondered if Vincent’s mention of her had planted a seed of guilt. For some reason, I felt bad about how I’d treated her.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Peter said. “Abuse is common practice and something all martyrs must suffer.”
“I’d still like to see her,” I said.
Rather than feel empathetic as a human would, anger nagged at me again. I was angry that I’d hurt her and wanted to rid the feeling.
“Sure,” he said. “But it may have to wait.” He pointed down the passageway to the vampire at my door. It was in fact the Empress’s den keeper, Youlan. I didn’t think she’d have heard us speaking about her. “No,” Peter said. “I’m sure she’s here on other business.”
Youlan was strange for any number of reasons, but one was that I couldn’t hear her frequency at all. It was as if she didn’t have one.
“Empress Cixi requires your presence in her cabin,” she said coldly. “I have been sent to fetch you.”
“May I come as well?” Peter asked with a smile.
Youlan frowned at him. “The Empress has not requested your presence,” she said and then turned to me. “Follow me. She does not like to be kept waiting.”
Youlan led me to the ship’s stern, up several levels to the posh halls of the Empress’s palace. I passed Ophelia and several new additions, hanging above the paintings that were already there. I didn’t have time to admire the canvases, but I did notice how the ship looked more and more like a hoarder’s den.
I wasn’t prepared for what I’d find in my maker’s cabin, but I should’ve guessed she’d show me the treasure eventually.
“Come in, Ei wai lina,” she said. “Sit.” She gestured for me to take the throne.
She didn’t hide the young girl with the bundle in her arms, but even if she did, I would’ve smelled them. The servant was elegantly dressed with an opened collar that evinced the peachy glow of her skin. It vibrated with a range of neon colors like Hal’s. She wore her hair down and swept over one shoulder, and looked about my age. The baby stirred in her arms and she swayed back and forth with it. “Shush,” she whispered to the bundle.
“I thought you’d be curious to see her,” the Empress said. “I’ve been told you haven’t asked about her yet.”
I don’t know who told her, despite its veracity. “I care little for the child,” I said.
“Is that so,” she said.
She didn’t offer me a cigarette this time, but smoked enough for the both of us during my visit. She didn’t even remove the lit stick from her mouth when she leaned in to look at the baby. She caressed the child’s face with the tip of her ornamental claw and smiled over at me. “Lú xiya, they call her,” she said. “Is that the name you gave your child?”
“It was my sister’s name,” I said.
“How sentimental.” She took the cigarette from her mouth and faked a retching gesture. “Thank Xing Fu’s venom for denying you further lachrymosity. Was she important, this sister?”
The Empress sounded ridiculous, referring to my human sister as if she were in competition with her for my affections.
“I don’t remember,” I said, which was somewhat true. Lucia was one of the memories that had faded with my hardening. I could barely recall her face before I became a vampire, now she was nothing but a dreamy figure.
“Humph,” she said with a scowl.
She snatched the baby from the young girl’s arms and it cried out with a horrid little squeal. The sound made my stomach harden and I stood up from the chair. I tasted the bile, as it rose in my throat, and had to swallow to keep it from choking me. My fangs dropped and my hands balled up into tight fists, my fingertips burning.
“Has she upset you?” The Empress asked.
I stared at her fearlessly and said, “Why would she?”
She bit the tip of her cigarette holder and sucked in air through her grit teeth. The baby continued to squeal until she handed it off to the young girl once again. The servant took it and handled the small thing with ea
se, returning to a sway as naturally as if she’d been a machine.
“Show her,” the Empress said to the young girl.
The servant crossed the cabin with the child and held her out to me. The bundle stirred and made sounds unlike human words, and then stretched a small hand out toward me. I retreated from it and hit the throne with the back of my leg, almost losing my balance.
“Take her,” the Empress said. Her request wasn’t an offer to be accepted or refused, but a command to obey.
I shook my head, repeating no in Italian since I couldn’t seem to form the Chinese syllables quickly enough. I made it clear I wanted nothing to do with the bundle.
“Sit, Ei wai lina,” she said. I obeyed and dropped into the cushion of the throne behind me, but kept my arms crossed, actively denying access to them.
“Nan,” the Empress said, gesturing to the girl. “Give Lú xiya to her mother.”
I glared at my maker with a look that couldn’t be mistaken for anything but starry vehemence. I didn’t want the bundle and made it difficult for the servant to pass her off.
“Psst,” my maker said. “Nan, drop it.”
The young girl, who I assume is called Nan, looked at the Empress questioningly, as if to say, “Are you sure you want me to drop her?”
The Empress hissed at her in reply and she laid the bundle across my legs. As if chiseled out of stone and in a frieze, or drawn into a tableau with oils, the child and I sat motionless for what seemed like hours. I didn’t look down at her, but could feel the heat of her pressing into my thighs. She smelled too sweet for my taste, a mix of baby powder and milk. Her blood didn’t appeal to me either, if it was in fact supposed to, and I actually thought her aroma wretched.
When I could feel the bundle slipping from my legs, I thought it best to let her drop to the deck and so I kept my arms tightly folded across my chest. I looked down only once at the strange round face gazing up at me. I didn’t know this child and she didn’t come from my body. Not the body that was mine now.
It wasn’t until she’d slipped to the perilous edge of my knees that the Empress allowed Nan to snatch her back up and sway with her like before. The relief of having the bundle off my legs can’t be explained, but I’ll say it’s somewhere between my being saved from sunlight and the talons of the Fangool. But I experienced the greatest relief when my maker ordered Nan and the bundle out of her cabin. Their escape was my solace too and I sighed a muted sign of gratitude.
“Do you know why I wanted you to see her?” She asked, putting another cigarette in her holder and sucking it to a fiery tip.
“To see if I still had feelings for her?”
This made my maker cackle uncontrollably, and not for a short amount of time. When she’d finally settled with a snort, she looked at me and her smile turned to a glower. “You’re impossible,” she said. “Still so ignorant.” Her acrid tone had returned and I tensed my body in anticipation of a beating, as she paced the deck in front of me. I wondered if I was skilled enough, and sufficiently emboldened, to land a few hits of my own.
“It’s true we’ve always held human blood to be of value for obvious reasons,” she said. “But do you know how precious their blood is now?”
I assumed it was extra precious, all things considered. Despite her having a ship full of human donors, she also had a troop of hungry vampires to keep satiated.
“It’s why Vincent saved me,” I said.
“Vincent—Vincent—Vincent,” she mocked. “Even the way you say his name is tedious. He is nothing to you now, and will be gone soon. I’ve asked you a question, now answer it. How precious is human blood?”
“I assume it’s extremely valuable now,” I said. “Especially since they’re dying off.”
She smiled and said, “Yes, but they’re also returning to life, aren’t they?”
“The bloodless aren’t human,” I said.
“Bloodless?” She asked. “Ah, that’s what the Du Maurier clan called them, it’s true. It’s a good name, if not a bit clichéd.”
My maker spun circles around me, though I didn’t know it then. She distracted me from the truth, planting seeds to manipulate me for her purposes.
“Back to my original question, which you’ve answered correctly,” she said. “Yes, they fetch a high price and there are those willing to pay outrageous amounts for the right bouquet.”
Her reference to the blood in viticultural terms wasn’t surprising since she’d run a black market of sorts for both products at one point.
“I happen to have a buyer for Lú xiya,” she said. “So I wanted you to say goodbye.”
I hadn’t cared for the bundle one bit, but when she mentioned selling her off, it fed my ire. It was one thing to know the child was safe and cared for on the ship, but quite another to think of her as a delicacy to be sold to the highest bidder. The thought made me territorial. “Who’s buying my child?” I asked.
The Empress tapped her tongue against the roof of her mouth, making a sharp ticking sound. “No, no,” she said. “She’s not your child. She’s my asset.” I bit down hard and she could see my jaw tense. I had no poker face with the Empress. “Humph,” she said. “Perhaps there’s a trade to be made.”
I had nothing to trade, if in fact I actually wanted the child, which I didn’t. I just wasn’t ready for her to be with someone else. I suppose it didn’t anger me to know that Muriel and the others took care of her. “I’ve nothing to offer,” I said.
“Oh, but you do.” She reached out for me with her decorative claws but I didn’t flinch, braced for whatever blow I had coming. She didn’t scratch me or hit me or push me, though. She simply stroked my cheek with the point of her longest ornamental tip, the jade one that covered her pinky finger. “Ei wai lina.” She purred my name like a cat. “Ei wai lina, you can get me the book I want. You’ve won Vincent’s heart. I’m sure you can charm him into letting you read his tale of your time together.”
I was fully aware she contradicted herself, telling me Vincent hates me one minute and that he loves me the next. I looked at her questioningly, though I knew exactly to what book she referred.
“The journal in which he’s stored all sorts of precious little notes,” she said, hissing her final syllable.
“And if I give you his journal,” I said, “you’ll keep the child onboard and safe with the girls?”
She took a long drag, smoking a whole cigarette with one inhale, letting the ash fall onto the deck. She pulled the wasted butt from her holder and stubbed it out in the crystal ashtray and then reloaded with another before she said, “It’s agreed, then?”
“Agreed,” I said.
I rose from the throne and left the cabin without shaking hands on my deal with the devil’s mistress.
I was only a few steps down the passageway when Peter caught up with me, and said, “I’m coming with you.”
“I can’t—I’ve got to—”
“I know exactly where you’re going,” he said. “Is she referring to his diary?”
“I’ve no idea why she wants it,” I said. “That’s the second time she’s mentioned it. I don’t know how she even knows about it.”
“Ah!” Peter’s revelations usually didn’t faze me since they occurred so frequently, but this one stopped him in his tracks. “Oh my,” he said.
“What is it?”
He looked around him, and then shook his head. “Not here,” he whispered.
I closed my eyes and counted five frequencies nearby, and seventeen voices wrapped in conversation. But I couldn’t tell if any of them were spying on us. I assured him we’d discuss it later. “I have to go,” I said.
“I’m taking you to see Muriel, as you asked.” He said it as though it had been rehearsed, like it was for the benefit of another. “Shall we?” He gave me a knowing look and I yielded.
“Take me to her,” I said.
We stayed on the level where we were and headed to what seemed like the ship’s fore. I knew the human s
ection would be tidy, but I didn’t expect it to be even more luxurious than the Empress’s section. When Peter opened the door that led to the donors’ cabins, I stopped on the edge, admiring the rich, velvet carpet running along the deck. I wondered if I should remove my boots, but Peter ushered me in. I didn’t ask how he gained access to a part of the ship that seemed off-limits to the rest of us. There were no guards at the first door, but deep in the passageway, I noticed Veor and two others, standing upright like pillars at the gates of a temple. They acknowledged Peter with a nod, but ignored me. He didn’t say why we were there, but instead brought me to the door Veor guarded. “She’s expecting you,” the blond pillar said to Peter. “But she is unwelcome.” He gestured to me with his chin, keeping his eyes on Peter the whole time.
“I’m certain the donor is awaiting Evelina,” Peter said. “But I’ll go in first to be sure.”
Veor moved closer to my side to block me, as he opened the door for Peter. My mentor slipped into the cabin, and I felt a wave of nausea as I anticipated Muriel’s feast. My gut hardened and I flexed my fingers to rid the revulsion. I concentrated on Veor’s frequency, as I waited for Peter. His, as with most, didn’t match his outward appearance. He couldn’t have been an attractive man, for he wasn’t a handsome vampire. His features were uneven, which might have been due to the large scar that cut his face in two, running from his forehead to his chin. His blond hair deflected some of his facial faults, but his brows were dark and his eyes unevenly set, and he brooded too much to be charming. Perhaps if he smiled he’d gain some advantage. I wondered if Muriel could make him smile. He seemed sweet on her.
“What are you staring at?” His register was deep, which made his Mandarin pronunciation difficult to understand.
“Nothing,” I said in Italian.
“Skadadiur,” he said. He used a word I assumed was Swedish.
The Journal of Vincent Du Maurier Trilogy (Books 1, 2, 3) Page 38
