Mooncusser Cove

by Darragha Foster

  She knew each resident of the Coomb intimately, but they could never quite remember her. To them, she was a recurring dream that had leapt from pillow to pillow and generation to generation for over a hundred years.

  She liked to think of herself as a buxom Frankenstein's Monster. When they figured out who she really was—when one bright lad saw through the veil of forgetfulness she shed, she would be feared, misunderstood and attacked with rakes and pitchforks by torchlight. Whether she fought or went into hiding depended, of course, upon whether or not she'd just done her nails. She had no desire to break a nail battling incoherent villagers with an axe to grind. In her back.

  Someday, she knew, they'd remember her. The straw to break the camel's back would be a measure of satisfaction drawn too deeply from the well of Marshes Coomb. She'd been warned by her family as they moved on that the ways of the clan could not survive forever in one place. Her uncle said the Coomb was like a glass half full. Someday, the venom of the curse would fill the glass, and then all the secrets would spill out. The solution, he said, was to keep moving.

  Vesper thought it was the strong Rom blood in her uncle that made him speak so strongly about leaving the beach. He was a land pirate with a vagabond's heart. The Rom blood that seemed to flow in everyone's veins, but hers. Thereby, she had stayed put. Alone now for over sixty years.

  Sweet Jin might be the one to sound the alarm and bring down ruination upon her beach. She didn't know. As hungry as she was, it didn't matter. She could feed only on dark nights, and tonight the sky was draped in starless velvet.

  She shuddered. The weather had been too damned good for too long and waiting for the new moon had caused her pangs of hunger that were eating at her more acutely than ever they had before. She'd waited too long to make dinner. If she didn't have to lift her skirts to cause a cascading chain reaction of need in her dinner guest, all the better. If she did, well—it wouldn't be the first time, nor would it be the last.

  Vesper Highgate-Adaire had long since hardened herself to do what she needed to do to survive. It would, indeed, take rakes and pitchforks in the hands of an angry mob to do her in, as she was not going to succumb to hunger. Boredom, maybe.

  In truth, she was damned tired. Tired of take-out. Tired of the boredom of being alone. Tired of hiding in plain sight. She was not tired, however, of living on the expanse of land claimed by her kin some four centuries prior. She loved the beach too greatly to leave it as her family had done.

  Before her cup o’ curse over-flowed and either created a monster or put an end to the one she knew she truly was, she knew she had to find the means of bringing fresh meat to the market. Carefully assessing her assets had given her a grand idea which would surely end her parade of meals-on-wheels. How much pizza and Chinese could one woman eat, anyway?

  She'd had taken steps to invite outsiders to Mooncusser Cove for dinner. Not delivery drivers, but paying guests. They'd come. She'd feed. They'd leave, and new arrivals would take their place. A retreat. A bed-and-breakfast for lovers. A bed-and-breakfast specializing in bonfires on moonless nights, fine wine and aged spirits. Vespers by the Sea. She'd wade through a pervasive aura of sensuality left behind by rutting newlyweds and urban dwellers desperate for weekends of beachcombing and passion.

  She'd even tracked down and hired the last Paladin to help her get her B and B up and running. His lineage had been hard to trace, but she'd found him. She'd dangled a weighty carrot before him, and he'd taken the bait. Land. Highly coveted beachfront property. What man wouldn't embrace his past to claim a piece of heaven by the sea? Funny how he hadn't known he owned beach-front property.

  Seems his father had a bit of bad blood with the kin. He hadn't wanted to follow in his own father's footsteps and had turned his back on the kin. And here his family and her family had been doing business together for centuries. How common of him to abandon his duties. But he did have a son—and that son was the answer to her prayers.

  Vesper felt certain she could resolve the issue with the progeny of John D. Paladin easy enough. She always got her way.

  She headed inside to await the arrival of supper.

  * * * *

  The road to her place was so quiet that she heard the putt-putt of the delivery car a mile off.

  She licked her lips, remembering Jin's sweet flavor.

  The car's engine idled for a moment, then sputtered and stopped.

  Vesper quivered, chastising herself for her wanton, ravenous behavior. She needn't be so anxious. Dinner was at hand. A little company, some conversation and a full belly on a dark night. Delightful.

  A car door opened and slammed shut. Heels clicked against the flagstone path to the cottage steps.

  There came a gentle rapping at the door.

  Vesper pressed a well-manicured hand against her chest to calm her racing heart. She willed the growling in her belly to quietus and put on her game face.

  She breathed in the pungent aroma of eggplant and tofu with brown sauce and fried rice from her side of the closed door. There was something missing in the aroma, however. She didn't discern Jin's essence.

  Expecting disappointment, but ready to make-do with whomever was standing on the other side, Vesper opened her door.

  "Hi. Lucky Panda delivery? Do I have the right place? You're a ways out here, aren't you?"

  Vesper withheld a mild expletive. She was too hungry to bemoan the fact that the restaurant had sent a female. A female delivery driver! What business in their right mind would send a female out into the countryside to deliver a quart of fried rice? The idiots running the show in Marshes Coomb, that's who.

  She feigned delight. “Yes. I ordered. Won't you come in?"

  The perky blonde driver smiled. “Thanks! Hey, can I use your restroom? It was a long drive."

  "Yes, of course. It's to your right. I'll get my wallet,” Vesper replied.

  The driver stepped inside and placed the white plastic bag on the table before entering Vesper's bathroom.

  Vesper stomped her foot. A female! Damn!

  Her mouth watered. It had been too long since she'd eaten. A full month!

  Rage boiled in her gut. Rage like the storms that had ravaged her beach during her long life. She preferred males. She needed a male. Another doom and gloom childhood rhyme began echoing in her mind.

  Women plunder not your own,

  For madness shall ensue

  And wrap you in your shroud it will,

  To the kin you'll bid adieu.

  It had been eons since she'd tasted female energy. At her great-great-grandmother's insistence one dark, hungry night, after a troublesome wrecking, she had taken sustenance from a woman wearing the guise of a man. A stowaway. A runaway, perhaps. A sea-blossom in sailor's clothing. Her blood had been so delicious, so alive.

  She'd been young—and handled the madness by acting out, being disrespectful. Hurting her sisters. Hiding small objects and lying about their whereabouts. It was an allergic reaction of sorts. Her throat and palms burned, and only running free, screaming, would quell the buzzing between her ears.

  Great-great-grandmother, the first Vesper Highgate-Adaire, was sent away until her madness cleared. The reaction had manifested in much more devious a manner in a grown woman. It was la fièvre de la femme. The fever brought on by the lustful, sinful nature of women.

  Granny, a rebel in Victorian clothing, had never considered the fever to been a problem. She preferred females.

  Women's energies could best be described as an opiate—inducing a hypnotic state born of addictive carnal power. Vesper knew that after feeding on the female driver, she'd want more. She'd feel compelled to bed the first likely suspect to come around like the village floozy. Or she'd drain someone too far. She'd kill. Always bad form when trying to stay in the background and off the grid.

  Like a long-sober alcoholic taking a drink, imbibing could make her reckless. Careless. Threaten her safety. Situations arising from the fever could be as deadly to her as choosing on
e victim and feeding from only that poor soul—or by feeding from one small community for centuries—until each baby born into it carried a part of her. Vesper shrugged. She was there any way—or nearly there.

  Her first guest at Vespers by the Sea was scheduled to arrive none too soon. She'd skirted the inevitable and ignored the guidelines and fed from the well of the Coomb for too long. Payback was going to suck.

  Ne'er eat too often nor too well

  Or bite the spoon of a man.

  You leave your mark,

  And you'll be found,

  Dead to the soul of your clan.

  Share not your bowl

  Or you'll end up whole

  In a grave unblessed, not shriven;

  You'll spend eternity in that place,

  An eternity unforgiven.

  Still, the choice had to be made. It was either enjoy a female, or pray for a couple of cloudy days until the next new moon, or gamble on another delivered meal before all the shops in town closed, hoping they'd send a male driver.

  She was famished.

  Vesper called to the driver sweetly, like a siren, as the bathroom door opened, “What's your name?” Besides “supper."

  "I'm Maria. It's sixteen-fifty with the delivery charge,” the driver replied.

  "Where's Jin?” Vesper asked.

  "He's not working tonight,” Maria said.

  Vesper sighed. “He's delivered here before. I thought he might come back sometime—I'm a good tipper."

  "Oh, yeah? Great!” Maria exclaimed.

  Vesper handed Maria a twenty. “Keep the change.” The heady aroma of innocence pushing to burst free from societal shackles scented the girl. Vesper knew she could easily unlock the driver's caged passions. “You know, you're really beautiful. Why are you driving for a cheap Chinese take-out joint?"

  "Money for culinary classes in the fall,” Maria replied. “How come you live way out here? There's like nothing out here. I can't believe I didn't know this was here."

  Vesper smiled inwardly at the tonal inflections of her dinner guest. Teenagers could be so cute! “Family estate."

  "The big creepy place on the beach? You own it?"

  Vesper nodded. “Want to see the inside? It's quite grand. There's a round, crimson velveteen bed in the master suite. And fifteen fireplaces."

  Maria smiled. “I guess I have time."

  "Come on, I'll show you.” Vesper led Maria across the dark courtyard to the main house. An old lighthouse loomed in the distance, its light now manned by a timer and switch. “The light comes on every night at ten."

  "I wonder what it must have been like manning that place in the olden days,” Maria said as she and Vesper walked up the staircase leading to the leaded-glass doors of the main house.

  "It was a pain in the ass,” Vesper replied.

  "You say that as if you know what it was like,” Maria replied.

  Vesper smiled to herself. I do know what it was like. “I've read the lighthouse keeper's journal.” She opened the doors to the main house.

  "You don't keep the place locked?” Maria asked.

  "Out here? No need."

  Maria followed Vesper into the magnificent old mansion and stopped dead in her tracks as Vesper switched on a single floor lamp about three steps inside. The soft glow illuminated the foyer in a magical haze of amber light. A huge staircase ascended gracefully before them.

  "There's no overhead lighting. I've forty floor and desk lamps strewn about the place. It's much brighter in the daytime. There are huge windows and several skylights. The parlor is to the right, kitchen to the left. Mysteries beyond through that little doorway over there.” Vesper pointed to a small, latched door built into the side of the staircase.

  "What's a parlor for, exactly?” Maria asked. “I've always wondered. And I'm not touching your mysteries beyond. This place is kind of creepy."

  Vesper opened a cabinet next to the floor lamp and withdrew an old aluminum flashlight. “The parlor was the place young men wooed young ladies. Sometimes it became the venue for sexual experimentation between young couples when their parents were too busy drinking brandy in the drawing room."

  "Oh, really? If the settee could speak, right?” Maria replied.

  "Come on, I'll show you. There's a secret tucked away in the parlor."

  Maria laughed. “I love secrets."

  Vesper inhaled the trailing sound of Maria's laugh; it smelled delicious. “Well, then you'll have one to keep after tonight, won't you?” Vesper encouraged. “Let's go. There—just through there.” She pointed at a set of heavy velvet drapes. “Go ahead. I'll be right behind you."

  Vesper flashed the light through the drapes as Maria held them open for her. “All right ... there's a lamp here somewhere. Ah, yes. Here it is.” She switched on a small decorative table lamp with an ornate stained-glass shade.

  "So this is where kids did the nasty before the backseats of cars gained in popularity,” Maria said, trailing her hand along a chenille settee. “No dust?"

  "Grime just gets in the way of seeing how much work I have to do. In a few short weeks I'm opening this as a bed-and-breakfast. Not everything will be ready by then, but I figure couples will want to return anyway, so even knowing about the upgrades will tickle their fancy. I've hired the perfect man for the job, too. He should be arriving soon."

  "I haven't seen any advertisements in town. God, this is gorgeous furniture. Is it vintage?” Maria asked.

  Vesper nodded. “Everything here is guaranteed authentic Americana via the Old World. Some of the antiques in this house literally washed ashore from across the pond during the Revolution. The house has been standing that long, in one form or another.” Vesper paused, “And I haven't advertised in town. I want city folk to head to the coast, not curious townies. There are better houses than this in the Coomb. Let the Coomb-folk stay at home.” She patted the settee. “The thought of someone like the DeSalvos or Mr. Pennywise sitting on this lovely period piece. Ick! My great-great-grandmother swooned under my great-great-grandfather's touch right here. She became a woman on this very spot. That's history for ya, huh? There's no way a butt impression from a Coomber is going to sully my settee."

  "I understand about the good old boys in town. They're all a bunch of pervs,” Maria replied.

  Vesper nodded. I might have something to do with that. Pervdom is something I leave behind me after I feed. Sorry!

  Maria continued, “Isn't it kind of weird knowing where your grandmother got boned for the first time?"

  "I think it's romantic. When I sit here, I envision how he comforted her into letting him unlace her bodice and remove her stays and slip his fingers inside her bloomers,” Vesper whispered. She continued, her voice low, even and calm. “He probably worked his fingers inside her for a time, conquering her boundaries of flesh and upbringing before planting himself inside her. No condom. Nothing but withdrawal back then, though I suppose they could have used leather sheaths. I hear it was a shot-gun wedding—because granny had a penchant for the ladies and that could have erupted a scandal in the family had she not been quickly married off."

  "You're talking dirty about your great-great-grandmother. You'll go to Hell for something like that,” Maria replied. “So, what's the secret in here?"

  Vesper smiled. “It's carved into the back of the hearth.” She knelt and leaned forward into the fireplace. “Come here."

  Maria knelt down and joined Vesper on the cold flagstones of the hearth. “We need to sit inside and look out. It's written on the inside, facing the room. It's clean in here. Fireplace hasn't been used in years."

  Maria turned and sat down. Vesper shone the light slightly above their heads on the brick wall.

  Maria giggled, reading the carefully chiseled inscription. “What is this? Victorian porno?"

  Vesper leaned closer to Maria. “My great-great-grandmother was in love with the upstairs maid. Look, they signed their names!"

  Maria followed the glow of the flashlight, readi
ng aloud, “Their bosoms sundered, with the opening start. Of married flowers to either side outspread. From the knit stem; yet still their mouths, burnt red, fawned on each other where they lay apart."

  "Do you get it?” Vesper asked.

  Maria shook her head. “Sorry, no. I mean, it's naughty sounding—but it doesn't really strike me as a secret code or anything."

  "It's from a poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti. It's referring to female oral copulation. My great-great-granny was doing the nasty with the maid. They wanted their love etched in stone."

  Maria continued reading. “Vesper Highgate-Adaire. Prudence Wilson. And a little heart."

  "My great-great-grandmother was Vesper Highgate-Adaire. I know for a fact that Prudence Wilson was the upstairs maid. They were having a love affair. Probably even as great-great-grandfather boned granny for the first time—she was already learning how to love from a woman. I'm named after her. Cool, huh?"

  "Did they get caught? I mean—they wrote about their love inside a fireplace. It's not like they wanted people to know about it."

  "The way Granny was married off at the point of a gun, I think the answer is in the affirmative. Funny thing, however, Victorians didn't have a clue about female sexuality. My great-great-grandmother was bisexual in a time when the Victorians found it difficult to conceive of the idea of lesbianism at all. Homosexual activity between men was illegal back then, but women weren't included because no one knew how to explain to Queen Victoria how two women could have sex. Someone should have shown the poor old Queen how women get down—then she might have smiled in some of those sepia photographs,” Vesper replied.

  "Are you? Bisexual?” Maria asked. “I'd like to be."

  "That's an interesting decision. I don't consider myself bisexual. I'm more of an opportunistic type when it comes to love. When I want it, I'm open to venturing onto either side of the fence."

  Maria shook her head. “That's a relief. Look, can I level with you? Everyone in the restaurant knows what you and Jin did. I mean, the guy came back higher than a kite with this shit-eating grin on his face. I haven't actually worked a shift with him yet—but after he spilled the beans to the guys, they were just waiting to take your call. They're so jealous that I took this delivery."