The Journal of Vincent Du Maurier Trilogy (Books 1, 2, 3)
Page 44
“Where to now?” Veor asked.
“Can you pick up anything?” I asked. “Do you hear the nomad’s signal—any signal?”
He shook his head. “I don’t hear anything.”
The tracker lit up then, and I almost dropped it. I studied the screen, entranced by the movement of the small blue dot. I wanted to make sense of the map, but the blue dot was all I saw.
“She’s on the pass,” Veor said. “Over there.”
I wasted no time and ran in the direction the Viking pointed. I looked down at the monitor every few feet, and the blue dot held steady but radiated bigger as we approached her. I could practically sense her there with me, and wanted to call out, but Veor pulled me back and I could have taken off his head for it. “No,” he said. “It’s not her.”
The nomad appeared then, and said, “Buna seara, Du Maurier.”
I rushed at Wallach, grabbing him by the neck and pulling him off his feet. He laughed and I launched my fist through his mouth. We tussled but I pinned him on the ground at the foot of the Viking. I stuck my talons deep into his neck and Veor reached down to stop me.
“We need him,” he said. “He knows where she is.” The Viking grabbed the nomad’s hand and held it up to me, revealing the signet ring the Empress had given my Evelina—the tracking device she had placed on her progeny. Veor did not stay my anger, but I gave the nomad a chance to speak.
“I will take you to her,” Wallach said, using a sophisticated English. “I kept her safe for you—safe from Rangu.”
“There is no bargain to be had,” I said. “Take me to her now before I sever your head from your spine.”
“Meu vampir,” he said. “Ea a fost a mea, esti lui.” Rangu had promised him Evelina once he had me. But this was not the first time Wallach was backed into a corner, and on the losing end of a deal. My Evelina would never replace his Veronica.
I yanked him to his feet and held his collar, as he guided us through the rock plain. We had come out of the green and reached the stony surface at the base of the foothills. She would be there, hiding out in the shade, I thought. But when Wallach brought us to the place he claimed she was kept, the trench was empty and I was convinced he had tricked us. I refused to deny myself this time, and—well, I cannot say I killed him, though I will describe what I longed to do to the pesky nomad. I wanted to string him up, cut out his tongue, and cover him in animal guts to await the wolframlike jaws of the bloodless.
“Ea a fost aici,” he said. “Lavanda.”
I cringed at the thought of Evelina suffering the animal blood when I saw the carcasses in the trench. She would need to feed. I turned to Wallach and was about to whale at him again when Veor said, “Lavender.”
“Her smell,” I said. “Do you smell her?”
“I don’t know but I—” He sniffed the air and closed his eyes. “I think I do.”
“Show me,” I said.
The Viking led us to the foot of the rocky hills ahead, rushing across the plain as though pursued. He sniffed the ground like a bloodhound, touching the tips of the rocks with his nose. He sped up when the smell of lavender intensified. The sky was dark but the earth’s satellite shone with a harvest of stars overhead. Our night vision had kicked in, guiding us through the darkness with the ease of troglobites through a cave. The nomad clung to me, despite my fevered hold. He also wanted to recover the missing bounty.
“Over there,” Veor said. “Up on the ledge.”
The shadowed figure could only be my Evelina, and I leapt to the summit in one bound, dropping beside her collapsed body on the overhang, practically on its edge. I tried to revive her, but she was bloodstarved—and had lost all sense of herself. I ignored her wounds, her burned face and hands, and swept her up in my arms, holding her in her rightful place, against my heart.
We raced back the way we came, Veor assuring me he could row fast enough to overtake the cargo ship if it still crawled along the coastline. I did not deliberate about returning to the vessel. There was no other way to save my Evelina. Animal blood would not suffice, and I did not believe I could find a human quarry in the deserted wasteland. Veor and I held our stride, ignoring the nomad who followed on our heels. Wallach was no threat, but had yet to relinquish his captive. He proved useful, however, when we reached the lifeboat near the shore, where they awaited our arrival—Rangu’s troop of bloodless, blocking our access to the boat.
Veor was quick, launching several darts before I had time to pull out my gun. I had no choice but to place Evelina down on a bed of rocks by the shore, but I stood close to her, keeping one eye on Wallach. The expanse of land behind us was mostly vertical, as we had docked the lifeboat near the bluff. It was the height that finished the nomad. Like a Siberian tiger launching itself through the air to snatch a skittish goat, Rangu flew down from the ledge above, pouncing on Wallach, clawing at him until he had pecked out his eyes, and swallowed his liver. He garbled the word traitor before tossing his new enemy at me. Wallach’s body landed on the rocky shore, feet from where Evelina lay. While Veor held off the bloodless, I would contend with the fiend one last time. I wish I was worthy of praise, Byron, but the battle was not won by me.
“Vin-n-n-n-ncent-t-t-t-t-t!” Rangu squealed, his voice scaring the night dwellers back into their hovels. “Min-n-n-n-n-n-e-e-e-e.”
The swarms of bloodless became agitated at the sound of his voice and splashed about in the shallow water, as they rushed to their deity.
“Hold steady,” I shouted to Veor.
The Viking was rooted, bent on holding his position to the last. Rangu ignored my partner and made for me. I was grateful he dismissed Evelina altogether, lying as near as she was. Perhaps he thought she was finished too. I wasted no time mincing words, and lured the fiend away from the novice, trying to isolate him. I had no plan of defense, or even attack, but relied on instinct alone. When Rangu reached me and swatted a claw across my chest, launching me several feet in the air, I admit I was grateful the Viking left his post to come to my defense. He tackled the fiend and jabbed a dart into his neck. But the poison did not disable the bloodless vampire; it enraged him further. He ripped Veor from his back and tossed him to the rocky ground, stepping on him and tearing into his lower spine with one of his clawed feet. The Viking called out to Odin, but I came to his rescue instead, tackling Rangu with all the rage I could muster.
The fiend and I flew across the surf and into the waves crashing up on the rocks. I felt my body pulled down into the water until I was yanked up with magnificent force and raised out of the sea. Rangu held me up to the moon and then dunked me back down into the surf like a priest baptizing a born-again. The flushing did not deter my strength, and as I was raised up anew, I drove my fist through his jaw. His beak sat on his face sideways, and he stuck out his tongue to straighten it. I went for his eye sockets next, using my talons to prick his bulging eyes and yank them from his face. The water renewed his vigor and he lifted me over his head, attempting to ply my body apart like a hyena tearing off the limbs of a lizard.
We fought evenly until I tired and he gained the upper hand. I hate to admit my weakness, but by the time he had dragged me through the surf and stretched my limbs and pecked at my flesh, I was desperate for help. He threw me across the shore and my body slammed into the rock wall, knocking me down. I landed hard and could not move. I was paralyzed, unknowingly stuck with the dart from his neck. Just before tossing me into the rocks, he had pulled it out and stabbed me in the heart with it. The remaining poison rushed into my veins and disabled me. Fully conscious, I panicked when my body defied my command to stand. I could not wiggle a finger, let alone defend myself against the coming fiend.
Time seemed to slow, Byron, and I greeted the darkness with a grin. It was the same sky I had looked upon from the sands of Ilium. A poisonous dart had been my undoing then too. How could I not smile at the irony?
In that silence, that immobility, that fate, I heard the sparrow. It was not my signal but hers reaching
for me through the darkness. She came for me, Byron, the heroic one sent to save me in all manner of ways—she came for me.
Rangu bent over me, oozing black tar on my lips, as he stared directly into my face and said, “Gam-m-m-m-m-e-e-e-e ov-e-e-e-r-r-r-r-r.”
I could barely hear his mumble over the call of my counterpart, frantic, vibrant, threading its loop through mine. Synergy, Byron, you cannot know the synergy I encountered, paralyzed as I was.
Rangu squealed and thrust his forked tongue through his mouth of metal, raising his claw, poised to slice off my head. But he was interrupted by a set of sharp irons that clamped onto his skull and tore through his mucky brain, oozing black tar down his temples and forcing his eyes from their sockets. Evelina’s irons, newly acquired, crushed the fiend’s skull down to his beak, compressing his head until he had no face.
My poor novice screamed with pain when she realized her own agony. The irons will pinch the gums the first few times they snap out. But she recovered and ignored her suffering to bring her wrath down again on the fiend. She tore Rangu’s body in half, as he kneeled over me, cutting her irons on the rabid flesh of the bloodless vampire. I feared contamination, Byron, more than I indulged in our reunion. I feared for her recovery, knowing only the ship had the salve for our ailments.
But Peter’s god heeded his prayers, Byron, for I can explain our rescue no other way. Zhi, with a troop of soldiers in tow, spied the swarms of bloodless along the shore and drove his skiff toward us, collecting Veor, Evelina and myself, and taking us back to the prison from which we had escaped.
Later. — I write this to avoid looking at the correspondence that sits in front of me. I shall record the events leading me here first, for I cannot brave looking upon your hand, Byron.
Evelina is almost fully recovered. Her burns are healing with regular doses of Muriel’s blood. The Empress insisted she drink from Jörvi, but I have made certain to keep her flush with Muriel’s drink alone. Her appearance embarrassed her in the beginning, for the first few hours we were onboard, but with some coaxing on her donor’s part, and having witnessed the clearing of most of her scars, she has come around and let me visit her. One cannot praise the beauty of a female vampire enough, Byron. You were much easier to flatter.
“You’ve recovered too, I see,” she said.
“I have,” I said. “Fully, as will you.”
“Peter told me you—” She seemed overcome with emotion, though impossible—it was her lingering human nature, no doubt.
“We have much to discuss,” I said. “But surely you know now.”
Old habits die hard, and I tested her, wanting to learn how much she understood of our union. She had tempered her admiration mostly, and I did not know if she grasped the complexity of our bond. When she responded with a look, and spoke a phrase into my mind, I knew.
We are one, she said.
I smiled and touched her lips with mine, responding in kind. We are the creature of balance. Together we make up one being.
I shall not record the rest of my visit, for some matters are better left to memory—sweeter, ineffable matters.
When I left Evelina’s compartment, I was called to see the Empress. We had spoken briefly upon my embarkment, but nothing had been resolved.
She greeted me in a reserved manner, though civilized and eager.
“I’ve decided to forgive your escape,” she said. “And the danger you caused for the crew.”
She paced her cabin, touching certain objects as she passed them. She wore more elegant attire than usual, almost as if dressed for an occasion. I only noticed because it was an elaborate silk Hanfu with a golden dragon across its back, and her feet were squeezed into pointy, platform slippers that added inches to her height.
“Now it’s time,” she said. “You and my progeny are set to travel west with us—to the Nortrak. You must come.”
“As I told you before,” I said. “I will go with you as long as Evelina remains with me. If you promise to forgo abusing her and stop subjecting her to needless trials, we will stay aboard. If not, Cixi, I will take Evelina, her child, and the donors with me.”
She sucked the air in through her teeth and made a snapping sound with her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “Humph,” she said. “Threats don’t sit well with me.”
“Then consider it a promise, not a threat,” I said.
She brought an ornamental claw up to her lips and tapped them gently. Abstaining from cigarettes seemed to put her on edge.
“She thinks she fooled me about her attachment to you,” she said. “But I knew. I could smell it on her—see it in her—she wears her lust like a human.”
“Our attachment runs deeper than you will ever understand, Cixi,” I said. “You do not know the power of your own venomline.”
“Humph,” she said, running a palm up the side of her head to the bun of hair on top. “And my loyalty to Xing Fu runs deeper than you know,” she said. Her voice wavered, as she seemed to stumble over her maker’s name for the first time. I dismissed it as restrained anger, but I realize now it was despair.
“There is something you must see,” she said. “I have debated showing you but now I must, against my better judgment. My maker insists.”
She motioned for me to follow her out of the cabin. We went past the captain’s quarters and the section where Muriel and the other favored donors live. When we reached the door at the end, one I thought led elsewhere, she opened it and ushered me in. The passageway was slimmer than the others, as though the section were an extension—an add-on—of the ones already there. The corridor was not long but we went to the end and turned left to a small alcove in the bulkhead. The alcove hid a small entryway that was about half my height. The Empress leaned down to open the door. Her demeanor had changed. She was reserved, almost nervous, hesitating before spinning the wheel on the handle and unlocking the seal. The frame released a hiss when the door was pushed ajar.
I was not fearful of Cixi’s secret hold. I did not suspect she would trap me inside or lead me to harm. Since our return, Peter had apprised me of his discoveries. He said the Empress raged when she realized I had escaped, insisting Zhi set out at once to find me. Captain Jem was ordered to cut the engine and anchor until the ferryman returned. “For Xing Fu,” she ranted. “We must bring him back for Xing Fu.” Peter assured me she was not bent on harming me, but fearful I would perish at the hands of Rangu.
The interior of the secret cabin was dark, but I saw the figure in the corner. I picked up her signal only after I had crossed the threshold and she came forward to greet me.
“Welcome, master,” she said. “I am grateful you are here.”
I could not have guessed my first progeny was aboard Empress Cixi’s ship. Her signal was weak, and her body weaker still. She was bloodstarved just like you, Byron, and yet she was on a ship filled with eager and fresh blood. Wrapped in a wool blanket, she leaned her upper body on a counter for support. The small cabin mimicked a large tomb and I did not doubt she was punishing herself with the cage.
“You are surprised, master,” Xing Fu said. “Forgive my secrecy.”
“It would have served the Empress’s interests to tell me you were onboard,” I said, looking at Cixi.
“It is I who forced her to keep the secret,” she said. “I am ashamed.”
“Sit,” I said. “There is no need for such formality.”
I wanted to spare her the humiliation of collapsing on the deck. She used the ledge on the bulkhead to balance herself and walked like an old woman to the chair beside the berth. Once she sat, she dismissed the Empress.
“I want to stay,” Cixi said.
“I do not wish the same,” Xing Fu said, rebuking her with a look.
The Empress shrunk beneath her maker’s glower and left abruptly, licking her wounds, no doubt, as she went.
I studied my progeny, recalling Byron’s passing. She had the same lines down her neck, marks of desiccation, drying out from the inside.
“Tell me what this is,” I said. “How can you suffer from a lack of blood?”
“I am not sure I know where to begin,” she said. “One thing is tied to another and everything has become so entwined that I no longer know which is the end and which the beginning.”
“Start with the donors,” I said. “Tell me why they are drugged.”
I trusted my progeny and would not suspect her of lying, even as her scion did nothing but tell untruths.
“They are not drugged,” she said. “Their blood, their circulatory systems are purified synthetically.”
“Synthetically?”
“The situation is far stranger than you think, I am afraid.”
“I do not understand.”
She choked with the same aching cough that had plagued Byron at the end. I could not know if this wasting disease only affected those made with unadulterated toxin—my venom.
“There are two kinds of donors onboard,” she said. “Authentic and inauthentic, though I did not know the difference in the beginning, and once I suspected the truth, I kept the secret from everyone—even the Empress is ignorant of my discovery. She thinks my illness is caused by something else.”
I expected more clarity and told her so.
“Both blood nourishes,” she said. “But the inauthentic donors ingest a cleansing cocktail—something they must be given—which alters their blood. It is impure, I suspect.”
The word rang with familiarity, as I recalled it scrawled across Byron’s notes. “Inauthentic how?” I asked
She got up from the berth and reached for me. I gave her my hand and let her use me to cross the small compartment. She pointed to a strongbox underneath the stand that held a candelabrum with lit wicks dripping wax on the deck. She told me to pick up the box and give it to her. I obeyed and passed her the coffer, remarking the W-O-M-B etched on the lid. She clutched the box when I gave it to her and brought it close to her chest.