TWENTY
Late the following afternoon, Springer woke Rufus and Serafina with the news that he’d made an appointment for them to view several houses in Epsom, a district on the outskirts of the city, where many fine houses had been built. An hour later, they were standing in Wellesley Street outside the premises of A. R. Manning and P. G. E. Harper, Esquires, Estate Agents. Telling the others to wait for him, Springer went inside, emerging moments later accompanied by a trim little man with a waxed moustache, whom he introduced as Mr Anthony Manning. Before Springer had finished introducing them, a smart, if rather dusty, carriage drew up beside them, pulled by a pair of solid-looking chestnut horses and driven by a skinny youth in a black suit. Rufus handed Serafina into the carriage and he and Springer and Mr Manning followed. Soon they were bowling along the unpaved streets in a choking cloud of dust.
Rufus’s initial excitement soon turned to disappointment and boredom, as one after another property failed to meet Springer’s exacting standards. All, it seemed, were too small, too large, or – most important of all – not private enough. Dusk was darkening the sky when at length Mr Manning’s carriage drew up outside the last of his offerings. From the street nothing of it was visible, being hidden by a high wall of grey stone that reminded Rufus of the one encircling the Albert Barracks. Springer shot a glance at Serafina and Rufus that made clear his approval so far.
Mr Manning opened the wrought-iron gate to reveal a square, two-storey house with a veranda across the front, its roof forming the floor of a balcony with a balustrade of white-painted wrought iron. “As you can see,” he said, “it’s built of stone, so it’s good and solid. Ideal for a gentleman like yourself, Mr Springer, who’s away on business much of the time. Really, it’ll pretty much take care of itself, and it’s very private, just as you wanted.”
Springer gave a noncommittal nod and, with the others, followed the estate agent up the long, curved path to the wooden verandah. Mr Manning opened the front door and led them into a high, square, wood-panelled hallway with three doors off it and an elegant wooden staircase rising at one side. Mr Manning led the way, the others trailing after him through the parlour, sitting room, dining room, kitchen and pantry downstairs, and three bedrooms upstairs, along with a bathroom. A spirit of ease and comfort seemed to infuse every room. The large grounds – almost half an acre, Mr Manning told them with enthusiasm – were well enough fenced to ensure complete privacy, and plantings of well-grown trees added to the sense of seclusion.
“The furniture can be bought with the home, if required,” the estate agent told them as one delivering the winning argument in a debate.
Rufus, who had noticed a piano in the parlour, decided there and then that this was where he wanted to live – if only Springer would take the furniture along with the house.
While Mr Manning busied himself locking up the house after their tour, Springer conferred mentally with Rufus and Serafina. I think this will suit us, don’t you? It’s as private as we could wish for, and will be comfortable enough to live in – though I dare say it doesn’t quite match what you’ve been used to, Rufus.
Rufus grinned. You never saw my rooms in London. He showed Springer and Serafina a mental image, and it was Springer’s turn to grin, and Serafina’s to grimace.
We’re agreed, then?
Rufus and Serafina nodded.
Mr Manning, having ensured that everything was secure, came down the steps to join them, his moustache all but quivering with the expectation of a successful sale.
“Yes,” Springer told him, “this will suit us quite well.” To Rufus’s delight, he added, “And we’ll take the furniture as well, provided the price is not too steep.”
The estate agent fingered his moustache for a moment as though afraid he might have left it behind in the house. “Oh, I think you’ll find the vendors very reasonable. They’re anxious for a sale as they want to make extensions to their own house – expanding family, you know. I’ll visit them this evening after I’ve taken you back to town, and if you’d care to call on me tomorrow we can conclude our negotiations then.”
The estate agent’s carriage set them down outside the premises of Manning and Harper. As they walked to the corner of Wellesley and Queen Streets, Springer said, “What an exhausting business that was. I’m so famished it was all I could do to keep my hands off the estimable Mr Manning.”
“Rubbish!” snorted Serafina. “I’ve known you to go for days without feeding.”
“At any rate,” returned Springer, refusing to rise to her bait, “I don’t intend to do so tonight. I’ll see you back at the hotel. We’ve a lot to discuss.” He set off along Queen Street towards the harbour, the dim and flickering gaslights burnishing his pale hair to a golden sheen.
It would not do for the three of them to hunt in close proximity, so Rufus and Serafina walked in the opposite direction to Springer, scenting the smoky air as they went. They turned left into Wakefield Street, making for the domain, hoping they might find some lone soul wandering there. But it seemed the citizens were all snug indoors; all they saw were a few policemen trudging their beat. At Symonds Street, however, they picked up a promising scent, their senses becoming alert and focused as they followed it. Before long, they reached the Grafton Gully cemetery. Rufus felt the stab of excitement that told him they were closing in on their target, and he felt Serafina’s excitement, which served to increase his own. Glancing across at her, he saw her lick her lips like a jungle cat anticipating a kill, and his mouth watered in response. They seemed almost to have become one in the intensity and focus of their quest.
Ahead of them, among the crowded tombstones, Rufus caught sight of a man staggering through the rank, wet grass, steadying himself against the monuments as he went. Rufus and Serafina quickened their pace until they came level with him, and Rufus saw he was quite young, no more than twenty or so, and very, very drunk. Serafina took him by the arm and turned him to face her. The man stood swaying on his feet, mumbling unintelligible words that Rufus, looking into his rather confused mind, interpreted as expressing a mixture of surprise and conviviality. Serafina stared into his bleary eyes, running her tongue over her lips in a gesture that was almost lascivious, and Rufus felt desire and hunger lick along his nerves like flames.
Grasping the man by the arms to hold him steady, Serafina continued to gaze into his eyes. Within moments, she had control of his mind and he willingly followed her to the shelter of a small stand of trees. Once there in the shadows, she pushed him against a tree trunk and pinned him there with her eyes. As Rufus watched, Serafina’s eyes began to glow red and her fangs emerged. He felt the tingle of his own fangs forming, and then Serafina was in his mind, inviting him to join her. Just for a second, he wondered at the wisdom of the two of them taking blood from the same man, but the thought was lost as the blood hunger overwhelmed him. As Serafina stood poised above the man’s neck, Rufus grasped his wrist and pushed back his grubby sleeve, and at the same moment their fangs pierced his skin and they became engrossed in the flow of blood, hot and salty and as intoxicating as the alcohol they could taste in it. When they finished, the man slid to the ground unconscious. Alarmed, Rufus bent to feel his pulse. It was weak, but his heartbeat was regular, if a little slow. He straightened up again and turned to Serafina, holding out his arms to her. Their fangs still sharp in their mouths, they kissed, licking blood from each other’s lips.
A coach rumbled by up on the street, its lamps sending flickers of light dancing over the tombstones as it passed. Rufus pulled Serafina further into the shadows, murmuring, “Have you ever made love in a graveyard?”
Serafina grimaced in disgust, her teeth gleaming white in the darkness. “No, I haven’t, and I don’t intend to start now.”
Rufus pulled her against him, his hands moving down her back, feeling her lithe body through her gown. “Don’t make me wait, Serafina. I want you so much I can’t bear it. Serafina, don’t you feel it, too?”
“Yes,” s
he whispered, drawing back from him with a smile. “Humans hunger for many things, but in most vampires all hungers are subsumed into two – blood and physical love. You and I are lucky, Rufus, we can satisfy that other hunger with someone we truly love. Not all of us can do that.”
“What do they do, then? Suppress it, as Anton does?”
“Some do, but many will satisfy it with whoever is to hand, be they vampire or human, often with those from whom they feed. That’s why people through the ages have believed us to be succubi or incubi – demons that prey on them in the night. I suppose we do, when there is desire without love. That’s why some vampires have formed communities, so they can be true to their nature, yet protect themselves from the risk of being discovered by humans. This has its own risks, though, mostly because of the intensity of our feelings, which is why some vampires prefer to keep humans – rather as humans keep pets – so they can satisfy both desires.”
“And the humans don’t mind?”
Serafina shrugged. “They’re kept controlled, I imagine. They provide the blood the vampires need, and I suppose the satisfaction of desire is mutual.”
“Sounds just like an Arabian’s harem to me,” said Rufus with a grimace of distaste.
Serafina smiled. “Yes, I suppose it is similar, though I hadn’t thought of it that way before.”
“Have you come across any of these groups?”
“No, Anton refuses to have anything to do with them, though he’s never told me why. Sometimes, when I’ve been lonely, I’ve thought how pleasant it would be to be with others like me, but I couldn’t bear to use anyone in that way, not after my—my...”
“It’s all right,” Rufus murmured, stroking her hair. “You can let all that go, now.”
Serafina smiled at him. “Yes, I can, now I have you. Oh, Rufus, I love you so much!” She wrapped her arms about his neck and kissed him. “Let’s go home, darling. I want you as much as you want me, but not here among dead people and derelicts.”
Rufus nodded, and they climbed up the grassy bank and hurried back along Symonds Street.
The wind blew chill from the sea, carrying the tang of salt and fish and odours of rope and tar and oil, and a variety of cargoes from the ships that lay berthed at the wharves. Low clouds raced before the wind, their bellies turned sickly yellow by the light from the streetlamps, the same glow washing over everything like an old coat of varnish, except for the shadows skulking beyond the reach of the gaslights.
All at once Serafina stopped, her head raised like a pointer scenting a bird, a puzzled frown furrowing her brow.
“What is it?” Rufus asked as she took his arm again.
“There’s another vampire nearby.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I think so.”
Rufus stopped, probing about him with his mind. “I don’t sense anything.”
“No,” said Serafina, “it’ll take a while for your senses to develop fully, and besides, it was only for a moment. I suppose whoever it was wants to remain hidden.”
For some moments Rufus looked thoughtful, then he asked, “Why would another vampire want to hide from us? I’d have thought they’d be pleased to find a kindred spirit.”
“I don’t know,” Serafina said with a shrug. “Perhaps he just prefers to keep to himself. It’s very easy for creatures who must live off others and hunt by night to come to prefer their own company – and to be wary of strangers, even other vampires.”
“You say ‘he’. This is a male vampire, then?”
Serafina shook her head. “I can’t be certain. The contact was too brief. I’ll tell Anton about it later, but the chances are we’ll never know.”
TWENTY-ONE
Springer’s response when Serafina told him what she had sensed was non-committal. “I’m a little surprised to find another of us in such an out-of-the-way place, but I dare say it’s of no importance, especially if he, or she, as the case might be, doesn’t wish to be known to us.”
“But aren’t you curious?” asked Rufus.
Springer shrugged. “In a general way, yes, but if a vampire chooses to remain hidden, there’s little I can do to satisfy my curiosity, is there? Of course I’ll be on the alert, as should the two of you, and I think it would pay to keep ourselves hidden, just to be on the safe side, but, as Serafina says, we may never find out who it is. Besides, we have more immediate concerns. I’ve bought the house, and we can move in as soon as the transfer of title is completed.”
Serafina ran to hug Springer, and then Rufus. Rufus shook Springer’s hand. The touch of his skin conveyed nothing more about the vampire Serafina had sensed, yet Rufus couldn’t help feeling that Springer was keeping something from them. Still, he reflected, if there were any cause for concern, surely he’d have told them.
* * * *
They had been in the new house for just over a week when Rufus and Serafina went downstairs soon after sunset to find Springer in the sitting room standing by the fireplace, a thoughtful expression on his face.
Serafina immediately went to him. “What’s the matter, Anton? It’s not that other vampire is it?”
Springer shook his head, smiling. “No, nothing like that, it’s just that I need to go to Australia sooner than I expected. I’m sorry we have to leave so soon after moving in here, but—”
“Leave?” Serafina interrupted. “I don’t want to leave! Please don’t make me go, Anton. I’m so sick and tired of travelling. Why can’t I stay here with Rufus?”
Springer sighed and rolled his eyes, then turned to Rufus. “And what does Rufus want?”
Rufus, taken aback both by Springer’s announcement and Serafina’s reaction to it, stammered, “I—I don’t know. I’m a stranger to both countries, but I won’t leave Serafina. If she wants to stay here, of course I’ll stay with her.”
Springer’s expression made it clear this was not the answer he had wanted. “Don’t you think you’d both be safer with me?”
“Perhaps,” said Rufus. “I’ve no know way of knowing, but either way I won’t leave Serafina.”
“Your loyalty is commendable, at any rate,” said Springer, “but I’d very much prefer to have the two of you where I can keep an eye on you.”
“Then you stay!” said Serafina. “Why do you have to keep travelling all the time?”
“I have business interests to take care of, you know that,” Springer told her, but there was something about his carefully controlled voice and expression that made Rufus think this was not the whole truth.
Serafina glowered at him, her eyes sparking with anger. “Business! That’s what you always say. You care more for your damned business than you do for your own family!”
“Yet you’re happy enough to use the proceeds for fine clothes and other trinkets,” Springer pointed out, his voice gentle, but his eyes as cold as a winter frost.
“Well, I won’t then, not if it means I have to follow you round the world like a—like a pet dog!”
Springer strode across the room and took her by the shoulders, but she refused to look at him, keeping her face averted even when he tried to lift her chin to make her eyes meet his. “No,” she said fiercely, “I won’t let you control me!”
With a hiss of anger, Springer let go of her, almost pushing her away from him. “How dare you, Serafina? You know I’ve never done that, not to you.” He strode back to the fireplace, grasping the mantelpiece with both hands and breathing hard as he tried to master his feelings. When he turned back to Serafina, his face was like granite. “I refuse to talk with you while you’re in such a mood. Rufus, I’m sorry you’ve had to witness this.”
He turned his back on Serafina and left the room, shutting the door with such care it was clear to Rufus he was making a deliberate effort not to slam it. A moment later, Rufus heard the front door open and close.
As soon as Springer was gone, Serafina flung herself onto the nearest settee and began to pummel it with clenched fists, howling like a wild animal. F
or several minutes, Rufus stood aghast, uncertain how to deal with a side of Serafina he had not seen before. Then, unable to bear her distress any longer, he went to sit beside her, putting his arm about her shoulders. Serafina turned on him, her eyes flashing, her lips drawn back in a snarl and her fangs beginning to grow as though she meant to attack him. Leaping up in alarm, Rufus backed away from her, his hands raised ready to fend her off, staring at her in astonishment, not only at what she seemed to have become, but also at what might lie dormant within him. Then tears filled her eyes and her stark face crumpled. She jumped up and ran to him, throwing herself against him wracked by convulsive sobs, her tears falling like rain after a thunderstorm. Rufus gathered her into his arms and held her, trying to exert what will he could muster to calm her. As he reached into her mind, he saw not the enraged creature that had snarled at him and shown its fangs, but a young woman torn by conflicting loyalties. She really did long to settle down with him, her lover, yet she was afraid that if she didn’t keep travelling with Springer, her maker, who had been more truly her father than any human had ever been, she would lose him. That fear had been the source of her anger. Through the turmoil in her mind, Rufus spoke to her without words, telling her that she was part of Springer as he was of her, that the blood that linked the three of them formed a bond that could never be broken, and for the first time he began to feel for himself the reality of that bond.
Gradually, Serafina’s tears abated. She raised her head, wiping her face with her sleeve. “Oh, Rufus, forgive me! I never meant to attack you like that. It’s just…”
Rufus kissed her gently. “It’s all right, darling, I understand. But you won’t lose Anton, you know. In his own way, he loves you as much as I do, and he wants to protect you from harm.”
A Different Hunger Page 19
