A Different Hunger

by Lila Richards

  Not one of the officers, surely, Rufus thought, wrinkling his nose at the odour still wafting out from below. Perhaps it was one of the male steerage passengers. Although the men and women were supposed to be strictly segregated, he imagined at least some of them were enterprising enough to find a way to skirt the rules, just as some of the women did with the crew. At that moment, the moon glided from behind the clouds, throwing a pale beam onto the lone figure weaving its drunken way across the deck. Rufus stifled a gasp as he realised who it was. Serafina shot him a swift look.

  It’s Toby Fox, he told her without speaking, Eleanor’s stepbrother!

  SIXTEEN

  Serafina looked at Rufus, a terrible smile on her bloodless face as she slid out from the shadows, signalling for Rufus to stay hidden until she had Fox in her power.

  Rufus watched as she approached Fox, who halted, swaying on his feet and staring at her in surprise. Serafina returned his gaze, murmuring a greeting that was also a seductive invitation. Fox, looking as though he couldn’t believe his luck, reached out for her, but she held him at bay with her eyes until his face took on the entranced look now familiar to Rufus. Serafina turned, beckoning to Fox, who began to follow her towards the railings against which the lifeboats were lashed. At the same time, she reached her mind out to Rufus, indicating that he should follow them. He hesitated, reaching out to Serafina’s mind: I’ve already fed. I’ll keep watch for you.

  We said someone should teach him a lesson, Serafina replied, and what better teacher than you, my love?

  As Serafina held Fox in trance, Rufus looked with loathing into his pinched, ferret face, and nodded. He’d already fed, but as soon as he smelled the man’s blood, he felt his fangs emerge. As the blood hunger began to envelop him, he felt the familiar uneasy mix of pleasure and disgust, this time with the added ingredient of his abhorrence of Fox. Making no attempt to be gentle, he tugged Fox’s filthy shirt away from his equally grubby neck, shoved his head to one side and plunged his fangs into the exposed flesh. He felt Fox stiffen. Although no sound came from his lips, it was clear he was in pain. Rufus raised his eyes to Serafina’s. The look on her face told him she had no intention of sparing Fox the horrors of their depredations. He would feel every second of agony. A sensation equal parts fury and satisfaction flooded through Rufus. Then the hunger engulfed him completely and he began to drink, only vaguely aware of Fox’s body writhing and shuddering with pain.

  Sated at last, Rufus raised his head from Fox’s neck. His skin was now the colour of dirty chalk, his thin lips drawn back from his teeth in a rictus of pain and terror. Rufus licked Fox’s blood from his lips, savouring the satisfaction of vengeance against the man who had sought to kill him. Serafina took his place at Fox’s neck, her raven hair falling like a curtain over his shoulder and down his arm as she fed. As Rufus watched, Fox’s body began to sag like an empty sack. He plucked at Serafina’s arm anxiously, but she did not respond.

  “Serafina,” he hissed, “you’ll kill him.”

  Still no response – either she was too deeply in thrall to the hunger, or she was ignoring him. Alarmed now, he took hold of her arm and shook her. She growled deep in her throat, but continued to feed while Rufus, unable to do more for fear of rousing the watchmen, stared at her with growing dismay. When at length she raised her head, throwing her hair back from her face and running her tongue around her bloody lips, Rufus saw that Fox was little more than a skeleton covered with sagging, greyish skin. In one swift movement, Serafina jerked his head back sharply. Rufus heard the crack of breaking bones. Serafina let go of Fox’s body as though discarding refuse, and it fell to the deck with a muffled thud.

  “What did you do that for? You’ve killed him!” Rufus said in a horrified whisper.

  Serafina placed a warning finger to her lips and cast a swift glance towards the watch house. Reaching her mind out to his, she said: Of course I’ve killed him. Isn’t that what one does with vermin?

  But that’s murder! I thought we were going to hurt him, to teach him a lesson, not to kill him!

  Serafina shrugged. Why should a creature like this— she pushed at the limp body with a disdainful toe —be left to continue hurting people? And Eleanor will be free, now, don’t you see?

  That’s a damned sight more than we will, once his body is found!

  Serafina smiled, showing fangs that were just beginning to recede. But it won’t be.

  She stooped and picked up Fox’s limp body, lifted it above her head and tossed it far out to sea. The splash as it entered the water was scarcely discernible from the washing of the waves against the ship’s side.

  “My God!” Rufus gasped aloud.

  “No one will find him, now,” Serafina said with evident satisfaction.

  “But Eleanor’s bound to wonder where he’s gone, and I dare say she’ll report his disappearance to—to whoever one reports these things to on a ship. Questions will be asked. What are we going to say?”

  “There’s no need for us to say anything,” Serafina pointed out. “Without a body, there’s nothing to incriminate anyone. Although,” she added with a sly smile, “if you wanted to, you could say you saw him on the main deck, very drunk. Then everyone will assume he fell overboard.”

  “My God,” Rufus exclaimed, “have you no conscience at all?”

  Serafina’s eyes flashed sparks of anger. “Not where creatures like Toby Fox are concerned. Why should I feel guilty at ridding the world of such a brute? Did he care whether you lived or died? Do you think he would have cared about his stepsister, either, once he had her inheritance?”

  “I suppose not,” Rufus was forced to admit. “But killing him just makes us as bad as him. Is that what you want, to sink to his level?”

  Serafina looked at him, her face harsh, and somehow less human than usual. “Please don’t preach human ideals to me, Rufus. The vampire code is at least as old as humans, and a great deal more rational.”

  “An eye for an eye?” said Rufus with a curl of his lip.

  Serafina’s eyes flashed fire. “No, nothing so petty as that. Vampires see further and deeper than humans. Believe me, the world is a better place without the likes of Toby Fox.”

  Rufus shook his head, but said nothing. He could think of nothing to say that would change Serafina’s mind.

  “I told Anton we’d visit him tonight,” she said as they approached the cabin area. At Rufus’s look of horror, she smiled and patted his arm. “Don’t worry, we can hide our thoughts if we need to.”

  “From Mr—from Anton?”

  Serafina shrugged. “It’ll be all right, you’ll see.”

  Rufus very much doubted that, but he felt well out of his depth in the alien world he’d been thrown into, and judged it best to hold his peace.

  By now they were outside the cabin. Serafina opened the door and walked in, tugging a reluctant Rufus after her. Springer lounged on his bed smoking a Turkish cigarette, dressed in an elegant silk-brocade dressing gown of deepest blue that made his hair look even paler than usual. As Serafina and Rufus entered, he got to his feet with a lithe suppleness that made Rufus think of a great cat.

  “Ah, I trust all is well with you both?”

  “Of course it is,” said Serafina, standing on tiptoe to give him a peck on the cheek. “Why shouldn’t it be?”

  Rufus, who had caught the sudden gleam in Springer’s eyes, said nothing, trying to hide his anxiety, not least from himself.

  After a long and rather awkward silence, Springer spoke, his voice languid but his pale eyes like ice. “You might as well tell me, you know. There’s no point in trying to hide it from me. Besides, confession is good for the soul, isn’t that what they say?” He sat down on the bed, stubbed out his cigarette in a silver ashtray on the bedside table, and, with a meaningful glance at Serafina, patted the spot beside him. Serafina, with an air of studied innocence, sat down. There being nowhere else to sit, Rufus leaned against the cabin trunk opposite them. “Of course,” Springer added,
taking great care over flicking an invisible speck of ash from the collar of his dressing gown, “I use the word ‘soul’ figuratively, since the common consensus seems to be that we vampires don’t have them.” He shot Rufus a sudden, sharp look. “What do you think, Rufus?”

  “I don’t know, sir,” Rufus stammered, unwilling to meet Springer’s gaze.

  “Then again,” Springer continued as though Rufus had not spoken, “perhaps the entire concept of the soul is false. There are those who claim so, and I must confess it would make life a great deal simpler – and death, of course. Take young Toby Fox, for example.” He ignored Rufus’s sudden start of surprise as well Serafina’s carefully wooden expression. “A vicious and unscrupulous young man, as we all have cause to know, and I dare say one not greatly missed by the world at large. Now, if the soul doesn’t exist, his death might simply be seen as a good thing all round. If, on the other hand—”

  “Oh, for God’s sake stop it, Anton!” cried Serafina, thumping Springer’s arm with her fist. “You know I killed him. Why don’t you just say so?”

  Springer shrugged his shoulders, holding Serafina gently but firmly at bay. “Why didn’t you just tell me? Did you really imagine I’d give a damn about the death of a creature like Fox?” He released her, and smiled his chilly smile. “I take it you got rid of the evidence?” Serafina nodded. Springer looked up at Rufus, who had been staring, mouth agape, at the bizarre vignette unfolding before him. “Why so shocked, Rufus? Or are you one of those who believe in hellfire and damnation?”

  “N-no, sir, I mean—”

  “And let’s dispense with the ‘sir’, shall we? I’m not your headmaster. Look, Rufus, for all that I try not to harm the humans who provide me with sustenance, I can’t pretend sorrow at the death of vicious brute like Toby Fox, any more than I grieved over von Dunkel. The world is a better place without them, and I dare say their deaths have prevented a great deal more evil than that of the act of killing them. I’m sorry if that shocks you, but it doesn’t make it any less true.”

  “But it’s not our decision to make!” cried Rufus.

  Springer gave Rufus a quizzical look. “You mean, ‘the Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away?’”

  “No, of course not, but we can’t just take the law into our own hands like that! We’re supposed to be civilised, aren’t we?”

  “So they say,” countered Springer, “though I’m not sure how – or even if – the concept applies to vampires. Like you, Rufus, I didn’t choose to be a vampire. Nevertheless, that’s what we are. Like it or not, that is what we are. By our very nature, we have a different perspective on the world—on life—than humans do. Immortality does rather enable one to take the long view.”

  “So all your fine words about retaining our humanity were just—just—?”

  “Lies? Sham? No, of course they weren’t, but for all that, we’re not human, not completely, not any more. Besides, what desirable human qualities did Fox exhibit, hmm? He beat you up and left you for dead, merely for being friendly with his stepsister, and bullied her and planned to marry her so he could waste her inheritance on gambling and drinking. And who knows what other evil deeds he’s done, or would have done?”

  Rufus gave a snarl of frustration. “But if we go around killing people because they’ve ill-treated us, or because they’re bad people, surely that makes us just as bad as them.”

  “In general, yes, I suppose, but perhaps, sometimes, a bad deed might become a good one if done for a good reason?”

  “Such as?” prompted Rufus, unconvinced.

  “Such as, for example, letting a man feel the full—unpleasantness—of a vampire taking his blood? You seemed to have few qualms about that.” Rufus stared at him. Was there nothing Springer didn’t know? “Very little,” Springer smiled, “when it comes to my family.”

  “Family!” Rufus made a derisive gesture. “How can you call what we are family?”

  “But we are, Rufus, in our own way,” said Serafina. “And family is very important to our kind, even more so than to humans, since we can’t create families in the way they can. Vampires are bound to each other by shared blood. Whole lines of us share exactly the same blood, and that creates a bond that lasts for as long as we live. Ultimately, it overrides all other considerations. That’s why I sought revenge for what Toby Fox had done to you. You’re part of me, Rufus, blood of my blood. Besides, killing him was the only way I could think of to save Eleanor from him.” Rufus frowned at her, puzzled. “I wanted to save her,” Serafina told him, tears filling her eyes, “because I know what it’s like to be bullied and frightened by cruel men.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Rufus, still confused. “Is that what you were going to tell me the other night?”

  Serafina pressed her lips together and said nothing.

  “Things will become clearer in time,” Springer assured him. “In the meantime, you’ll find it considerably easier if you simply accept what you are, and learn about what it means for you, rather than trying to keep hold of what you used to be. After all, what can’t be cured must be endured.”

  “You sound just like my nanny, when I was a little boy,” Rufus said, a fledgling grin alighting on his lips.

  The hint of an answering smile warmed Springer’s eyes for a second. “Just don’t tell me I look like her, that’s all. Now you two run along. I have a book I want to finish. And for God’s sake try not to quarrel.”

  Neither Rufus nor Serafina spoke as they walked back to their cabin.

  Once there, Rufus sank onto the bed and put his head in his hands. “Why can’t I just do what Anton says? Why is it so difficult?”

  Serafina went to sit beside him. She put her arm about him, drew him towards her so his head rested on her shoulder, and began to stroke his hair. “You have vampire blood now, but your mind still clings to what you used to be.”

  “Was it like that for you?” Rufus asked, his voice muffled against Serafina’s gown.

  “Yes, but perhaps not as much. Most of my memories I was more than happy to leave behind. Besides, I’d been travelling with Anton for some time, knowing what he was, before he brought me across. For you, the transition has been much more abrupt, and—and unexpected. I’m sorry if it’s not what you wanted. For your sake, I’d undo it if I could, even though it would mean losing you, but—but…”

  Rufus lifted his head to look into her eyes. “If you’d asked me straight out whether I wanted to be a vampire, ill as I was, I’m certain I’d have said no, but it’s not that simple any more, is it? It just seems so…huge, living forever, and all the feelings I have that I don’t understand. When I was drinking Fox’s blood, I didn’t care a jot that I was hurting him. I wanted to hurt him, to pay him back for what he’d done to me. But when I saw you were killing him, I felt that whatever evil Fox had done, killing him was wrong. Everything about it was abhorrent to me, and I hated you for it. So, was I a vampire when I was drinking Fox’s blood? Was I human when I hated you for killing him? I don’t know what I am any more, and I’m frightened! How can I accept what I am—what you and Anton are—if I can’t even understand it?”

  Serafina sat back and thought for several minutes. Then she took Rufus’s hand and looked into his eyes. “You’re a vampire all the time, Rufus, but it’s not as simple as being either human or vampire. All vampires began as humans, and they don’t suddenly lose their humanity when they’re brought across. It’s more like having new qualities added. I don’t know what you were taught, but you must try not to see the two aspects as being opposed. And it’s not a matter of vampires being evil and humans good. Despite what superstition and the church would have you believe, vampires come in as many variations as humans do. Is Anton evil? Am I?”

  Rufus shook his head. “No, but I can’t help feeling that some of the things you do are.”

  “It’s a matter of perspective, that’s all. As a vampire, it’s in your interest to unlearn some of the fairytales you’ve been taught.”

>   “What do you mean, ‘fairytales’?”

  “For a start, that humans are superior to all other creatures. It should be clear to you by now that, at least in some respects, vampires are superior.”

  Her words forced a smile from Rufus. “But does that mean they’re morally better?”

  “Does it mean they’re morally worse? Who decides? What are morals, after all, but rules devised by humans for their own benefit?”

  “That’s true, I suppose,” Rufus said, looking thoughtful. “There’s no denying humans have done some pretty appalling things to other human beings in the name of religion.”

  Serafina nodded. “You see? They don’t even follow their own rules, yet they want to force them on us. When I was first brought across, Rufus, in some regions people still hunted vampires. They burned us to death or beheaded us, or drove stakes through our hearts, and said it was to save our souls, just as they did to people accused of witchcraft. There were all sorts of claims made about us: that we ate babies, and were hell bent on turning everyone into vampires. They had lists of ways to recognise vampires and to fend them off.”

  “Like garlic and crosses?”

  Serafina smiled, but her eyes were sad. “Yes, and even sillier things, such as that we cast no reflection in a mirror, and can transform ourselves into bats and wolves, or even dissolve into fog. People are very prone to demonising what they can’t understand, Rufus, but we aren’t all monsters, any more than all humans are saints.”