by O. M. Grey
It was the singular greatest sensation of my long existence, no doubt amplified by the beauty beside me. Within moments, we were soaring above the trees, and I could see the Houses of Parliament in the distance. What a sight! The clock tower looked like a matchstick at this distance, and the Thames but a silver snake in the moonlight. Amazing.
The chattering of all the guests soon drowned out the sound of the steam engine, and the party officially started. I turned to Avalon, and her eyes were wide with amazement. Still, she cared nothing about the gala. Her only interest was this ship.
“First time on an airship?” I said, finally breaking our silence.
“It is,” she answered without looking away from the magnificent view of London below.
“You?”
“Yes. This is definitely a first,” and I wasn’t just talking about the airship. I drank in every curve of her face. Every curl of her hair. I etched this lady into my memory. Every delightful detail of her.
“The size of those propellers,” she said, pointing to the large one off the starboard side, leaning over the side slightly in her excitement. “Each blade is bigger than a man.”
“There is one off the port side as well.”
“Do you know your way around ships, Lord York?”
“Arthur, please.” I must get her to use my familiar name. That is the first step. “I’ve been on a ship or two in my time. You?”
“I once sailed to France for holiday, but nothing this large. Not nearly this large.” Her eyes, still wide and full of wonder, took in everything around us, just as I took in her.
Avalon put a gloved hand up to the ear on which I had seen the strange earpiece and tilted her head slightly. After which she said, “Would you excuse me, Arthur. I mustn’t seem rude to the other passengers. My Aunt gave me strict instructions to mingle. It was a pleasure to meet you.”
Yes. The familiar. She’s dropped her guard.
“The pleasure was all mine,” I replied, kissing the hand that was so recently at her ear. “Save me a dance?”
“Oh, Lord York, I do not normally dance.”
Back to the formal.
“Well, then. Perhaps we shall talk more later this evening?” I wasn’t letting go of her hand.
“Perhaps,” she replied, then taking her hand resolutely out of mine, turned and walked away.
I stood watching her bustle sway as she headed towards her aunt and Lord Grimshaw, but she didn’t go to them, rather she stood very near another young man who was not in the least bit interested in hiding his affectionate overtures to another woman. It was as if she was trying to listen in on their conversation.
A blow came from behind and nearly knocked me off my feet.
“Arthur, my boy!”
I turned to see Lord Nicolas Stanton finely dressed and sporting a wide grin.
“On the prowl, I see,” he said with laughter in his voice.
“Always,” I replied shaking his proffered hand, “You?”
“You know it, dear chap. I’ve already got a few strung along tonight, and we’ve just taken off. What is it about technology that gets women so wet?”
I looked back across the ship to see that Avalon had now moved on to another couple. She stood just far enough away so as not to appear she was eavesdropping, which, to me, she obviously was. My curiosity was piqued.
“Her?” Nicholas said in an astonished tone, snapping my attention back to him. Had I enough blood in my system, I would have blushed.
“She intrigues me,” I said.
“Oh Arthur. One day, you must explain to me your taste in women.” Nick’s sexual appetite was at least as ravenous as mine, but he preferred his women young. Mere girls, really. He liked to get them before they were eighteen, if possible, as they started to marry off around then. He liked them virginal and pure.
“Experience, my friend. Experience.”
“Theirs or yours?” he laughed. A waiter came by with a tray of champagne. We each took a glass.
“To the girls,” Nick toasted.
“The girls,” I replied. We clinked glasses and drank deep.
“Tell me about your evening so far, Nicholas. You say you have a few “strung along,” as you put it?”
“Indeed, Arthur,” he said, his blue eyes twinkling. He took another sip of champagne and the moonlight caught the edge of his sharp jaw just as a gust of wind tussled his blonde hair, giving him more of that reckless charm he was so well known for. I could see why the girls fell for his line. He was strikingly handsome, much more so than I. Not that I was unattractive, quite the contrary, but Nick’s looks surpassed all that I had ever seen. He was perfection in the eyes of women, and although he was gaining a reputation, girls didn’t seem to learn. They each believed they would be the one to land this man, titles, money, looks, and all. They were fools.
“Nancy Howard is one. She’s my top priority. Oh, Arthur. She is indeed ripe.”
“Nancy Howard? Daughter to the Earl of Suffolk?”
“The very same.”
“Your boldness grows with your age, dear friend.”
“One must remain challenged in one’s work, Arthur. Don’t you find?”
“Indeed I do,” I said, glancing back over at Avalon who was now eavesdropping on another couple. Each time she would leave one couple, she would again touch her earpiece with her right hand, angling her mouth down into the sleeve. Then she would speak, although no one was around. It looked as though she would speak directly into her bell sleeve. Quite strange. I was thoroughly intrigued by this woman.
“I saw you talking with Lady Pearson again this evening,” Nicholas continued. He had that devilish look in his eye, the one that was so often there.
“Indeed. She was quite cold toward you this afternoon, Nicholas. Story there?”
“There’s always a story, Arthur. Hers is but a trite one, though. Never forgave me for
‘ruining’ her daughter, as she puts it. Lass had to marry beneath her station for someone to take her. Fireball, that one. Good times.”
Yes. That is Nick’s specialty.
“No wonder she sounded cross. You do make your mark, don’t you?”
“Quite,” he said.
“Arthur, old chap,” he said, downing the last bit of champagne and setting the empty glass on the side of the ship, “I’m afraid I must take my leave of you. After all, there is work to be done.”
He flashed his brilliant smile before continuing. “Tea. Tomorrow.”
“Indeed. See you then, ol’ boy.”
I watched him head back down the stairs, no doubt to literally sweep Miss Nancy Howard off her feet on the dance floor. Poor girl. Didn’t have a chance.
Avalon passed right by me on her way to another group, and she didn’t even look at me. She was talking into her sleeve and holding her ear.
“Miss Bainbridge,” I said, trying to get her attention.
She stopped and turned, quickly pulling her arm away from her lips. She stood properly before me with both hands clasped together in front.
“Yes, Lord York.” She sounded almost cross herself.
“Care to dance?” I blurted out, then tried to recover, “The music from below is inspiring me to do so.” How awkward of me. This woman has me rather flustered.
“Then I suggest you go below and find a willing partner. As I mentioned before, Lord York, I rarely dance.” She turned without another word and walked away.
I did not go after her, but rather watched her continue to move about the ship, from couple to couple, group to group, throughout the evening while making very tedious small talk with different groups myself. After a few glasses of champagne and some very fine hors d’oeuvres, the ship once again began to descend towards Hyde Park. The same men who had cut the ropes were now jumping up to catch them again as the ship neared the ground. I positioned myself near enough to Avalon that I would be close to her while disembarking. As we all funneled onto the descending ramp, I was right behind her, right u
p against that sweet bustle. The stirring below began.
“Hello again, Miss Avalon,” I said just above a whisper into her ear. Her hair smelled like springtime.
She looked back at me, startled. “Ah. Lord York. Did you enjoy the evening?”
“I certainly did, Miss Avalon. By far the best part was talking with you. May I call on you again?”
This made her laugh a little. A strange reaction. If I was a man of lower esteem, I might have been offended.
“Whatever for?” was her only reply.
“As I said, Miss Avalon. I truly enjoyed talking with you, and I would like to talk with you further.” She looked quite cross with me, and I couldn’t understand why. Perhaps she thought my intentions were dishonorable, which, of course, they were. Still, I added, “Purely platonic intentions, of course. I see that you have a love of modern technology,” I said with a subtle indication to her earpiece. Her hand instinctively went up to cover it. She pulled the perfect black curls down over her ear. She looked flustered for a moment, as if no one was meant to see it.
“I do have a penchant for science, Lord York.” Certainly my weakness, modern technology, but I was certainly willing to learn to get closer to this amazing woman. Just had to have something to talk about, at first anyway.
“I know very little about all these new devices and such, Perhaps you can educate me? And, I insist, Miss Avalon. Do call me Arthur.”
“That is more familiar than I like, Lord York. Good evening.” She turned away from me with finality. I knew the conversation was over. For now. When we had reached the bottom of the ramp, she marched off without another word or glance back at me.
“What an odd and wonderful woman,” I said to myself. I watched her (and her bustle) intently until she got into the carriage with Lady Bainbridge and drove away.
I must find a reason to see her again. Perhaps through Lady Bainbridge was the best way.
Chapter 5
“I’m in love, Cecil. I’m completely and utterly in love.”
Cecil stood there for a moment, looking blankly at me. He held a brass candlestick lantern which barely illuminated the foyer. It was like a brass tube with a hole in the front from which the candlelight shone. This was so it didn’t blind the bearer with light from behind but rather shed light out ahead.
He blinked slowly a few times and then said, “But you have no heart, m’lord. It doesn’t beat.”
He set the candlestick lantern down on the Venetian console table and with the newly free hand lit the oil lamps on the wall. He then took my cup of tea off the tray balanced on his left arm and set it next to my doffed top hat, then raised his cuff.
“One drop or two.”
“Two–A heart need not beat in order to love, Cecil dear boy! I only wish that were the case, it would make things much simpler. From what I remember, love is not that much fun.”
No. Love was quite a cruel bitch, if memory serves. Love was what kept me tethered to Catherine all these centuries, even after her betrayal and death. But this was new and somehow different. Of course reason told me it wasn’t different at all. It was merely new, but reason was not the dominant faculty at the moment. I would love again. I would love anew, if only in temporary bliss. If only for a few moments. I would savor this new love.
“What makes this woman so special? I mean, you’ve had thousands, m’lord. Hundreds just in the short few years I’ve known you,” Cecil said as he let two perfect drops of crimson blood fall into my tea before wiping the spigot and readjusting his cuff.
I sighed, trying to find the words to describe what my heart knew. They didn’t come. How can one explain love? This wasn’t base desire or lust. It was love. I settled:
“She looks like Catherine, or at least my memory of my memory of Catherine. That’s what first caught my eye, but there’s something else. She has an honesty about her, a level of honor, unlike Catherine. And still something else.”
I searched for the words, but fell short. Even with all the languages I’ve learned and all the books I’ve read, I cannot come up with the words. A poet was needed to describe the feelings of love. For even words like ecstasy and rapture and bliss fell short to this wondrous feeling. I tried to call up the words of Shelley and Byron, but even those words couldn’t capture my love for my Avalon.
“She shunned you, m’lord. That’s what it is.”
Cecil pulled me from my ethereal cloud back down into my foyer of reality. He took my coat and hung it on the rack by the door. I picked up the cup of tea he had set on the Venetian marble console table and took a sip.
“Shunned is a rather harsh word, Cecil. She merely presents a challenge. That’s all. You know how I do enjoy a challenge. And, yes, that is intriguing.”
“Intriguing, indeed,” Cecil replied wryly.
“Don’t be tedious, Cecil. You should congratulate me. This was the first time I’ve felt alive since, well, since I died! No, that’s not quite right. It’s the first time I’ve felt alive since Catherine died.”
“I’ll never understand it, m’lord. Why you hold on to that woman so. She betrayed you. She slept with your brother and lied about your time together. She denied you, much more than three times. She swore before the holy church and God himself.”
“That she did, Cecil, but I forgave her for all of that,” I said with a wave of my hand. “He cast her aside, and I could only watch from the sidelines. My heart broke again watching her in pain, and I swore off love. After Catherine died banished and shamed like a harlot, I swore off love. I saw that life and especially love was too painful, too disappointing. Plus, I found much greater pleasure in carnal activities than romantic ones. Although, I do enjoy feigning the romance. This Avalon was different. She has stirred something inside me I thought long dead.”
“She’s a challenge. Nothing more.”
I flew at Cecil so quickly he didn’t know what had happened until he was pinned by the throat against the wall, feet dangling off the ground. The silver tray he had dropped was still clanging in the background. Shards of my broken teacup were scattered across the marble foyer floor, and my fangs were bared and eyes red. I showed him just how serious I was.
Cecil, of course, was familiar with my tantrums, so he hardly blinked at the show of my power.
Calmly he said through a hoarse whisper, for I was practically shutting off his windpipe, “I see this means quite a lot to you, m’lord. My apologies.”
I dropped him and regained my composure, looking completely human once again.
“Now. Help me, Cecil. What can I do to catch this lady?”
“You do have considerable powers of persuasion, m’lord,” Cecil said, rubbing his throat.
Point taken.
“True. But I do not wish to frighten the lady or cause her any harm.”
“You know perfectly well this is not to which I was referring, m’lord.” Cecil had now begun to collect the broken teacup shards.
“Yes. I do have considerable natural charm as well, but she hardly spoke to me tonight.” I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms like a petulant child, pouting. “She wouldn’t even agree to calling me by my given name. Too informal, she said.”
“She sounds like a lady of much integrity, m’lord.” He picked up the fallen platter and began wiping up the spilled tea.
“That’s what I was saying, Cecil! She’s special. She’s not one of those haughty harlots who are on their backs with just a kind word and a flattering flirtation. Nor is she a shy maiden, blushing at the thought. No, Cecil, this one is strong. I could feel it in her.”
“What about your other powers, m’lord? Surely you could use them to persuade her.”
“Of course, Cecil! Thank you for the reminder, good man. It has been so very long since I’ve needed them to persuade a woman! I almost forgot that I could!” He was, of course, referring to my vampiric powers of mind control. I could subject my will upon the weak minded, especially.
She was not weak-minded, however,
but it was worth a shot. If only as a last resort. I would certainly prefer the lady come to me of her own accord.
“The night is still quite young, m’lord. Are you in for the evening?”
“It is young, Cecil! It is positively infantile! I think I will go out for a drink and perhaps a romp as well. Don’t wait up.” I donned my top hat, slipped on my gloves, grabbed my overcoat, and headed for the door.
“No, m’lord. I never do.”
The night was cool, even for London. A soft mist filled the air, and I thought about how lucky we had been earlier in the evening. The clear skies were perfect for the airship flight. I smiled as I remembered how Avalon’s skin looked in the moonlight, highlighting her cheekbones and lips.
The curve of her nose. How I could see each eyelash and each wispy hair along her jawline in the bright, clear night. But now it was foggy and misty and grey, just as London usually was.
I didn’t call for Thomas to drive me, but rather set out on foot. It was just past midnight, so I had several hours until dawn. I was feeling a little hungry, but it couldn’t be a high profile kill.
Perhaps it wouldn’t have to be a kill at all. Certainly would be better not to leave another body so soon. I could sharpen those persuasive powers Cecil mentioned on a barmaid somewhere. Maybe a whore. Of course, I wouldn’t need them for either. And if I did, it wouldn’t take much, for they were customarily of the weakest minds. A whore, I settled upon. Satisfying two desires in one without a fuss. There was time for practice later. Tonight, I had renewed desires in need of satiating.
“Yes,” I said to the London night, “a visit to the Chamber of Horrors is just the thing.” It was well over an hour walk to Gray’s Inn Road, but it would be well worth it. Definitely my type of establishment. I could grab a cab home if I ran too late. I cut through Hyde Park with a skip in my step and turned onto Bayswater. Few people were out this late, so it was a relatively quiet night. The thick fog hung in the air, and my thoughts turned once again to my dear Avalon. She was no doubt snuggled into her bed, sleeping soundly. All alone, and I hardened at the thought.
