A Different Hunger

by Lila Richards

  “But I can’t come to any harm here with you, can I?”

  “I’d like to think not, but I suppose he wants to be sure.”

  Serafina sighed. “But I’m so tired of travelling. I don’t think we’ve stayed anywhere for more than a few months at a time since I first left Moscow, and Anton won’t even tell me why we need to keep moving. He just says it’s better for us.”

  Rufus shrugged. “Perhaps it is. After all, Anton’s been a vampire for longer than either of us, so he probably has a better understanding of the potential dangers.”

  “Then the least he could do is tell me why.”

  “If you like,” said Rufus, “I’ll have a talk with him later.”

  “Oh, would you? I’m sure he’ll listen to you.”

  Rufus was considerably less certain, but he smiled at Serafina and kissed her gently. “Of course I will, sweetheart,” he said, adding, in an attempt to lighten the mood, “but right now, I think we should go and hunt. I don’t know about you, but all this excitement has made me ravenous.”

  It was well after midnight when Rufus and Serafina heard Springer return. They had already fed and bathed, and had decided to spend the hours until dawn in the sanctuary of their room, curled up together in their bed, talking. As soon as he heard Springer downstairs, Rufus sat up.

  “I’ll go and talk to Anton now,” he told Serafina, trying to sound more sanguine than he felt. He got out of bed and pulled on his dressing gown, then bent to kiss her.

  “I should go with you,” she said, though it was clear from her face that she didn’t want to.

  Rufus shook his head. “No, you stay here. I shan’t be long.”

  With considerable trepidation, Rufus made his way downstairs. Outside the sitting room he stopped, listening intently, trying to gauge Springer’s mood, although he made no attempt to reach out to his mind, fearful of exacerbating an already delicate situation. As he stood there trying to think how to approach him, Springer called out, “Do come in, Rufus. I shan’t bite, you know.”

  Smiling in spite of himself, Rufus pushed open the door to find Springer standing by the window smoking one of his Turkish cigarettes. He turned to face Rufus, who was heartened to see his face looked less stony than before, his eyes less arctic.

  “How is Serafina?” he asked, exhaling fragrant smoke.

  “She’s feeling better,” Rufus said. “I promised her I’d speak to you.”

  Springer raised one eyebrow. “About…?”

  “Well, about her staying here with me.”

  “And…?”

  “Anton, she really doesn’t want to keep travelling, but she’s afraid that if she doesn’t go with you, she might never see you again.”

  “But that’s ridiculous!” exclaimed Springer, angry sparks flashing in his eyes. He took a deep breath, then went on more calmly, “I don’t intend to go away forever, just until it’s—until my business is concluded. I do believe that she—that both of you—will be safer if you’re with me, but I suppose I can’t blame Serafina for wanting to be more independent, especially now she has you. It’s just that…” Springer seemed to withdraw into himself, his forgotten cigarette dripping ash onto the rug. After several minutes, he murmured, as though to himself, “After all, it’s me she wants, not…” Then he seemed to collect himself. “Please tell Serafina I’m not angry with her, just concerned for her welfare. I won’t pretend it’s what I think is best, but since she wants to stay here so much, then she has my blessing. Just make sure you take good care of her, Rufus, or you’ll have me to answer to. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, sir, thank you. Do you know yet when you’ll be leaving?”

  “As soon as possible. I fear I may already have stayed too long.” Rufus wanted to ask Springer what he meant by such an odd statement, but Springer turned away to stub out the cigarette he’d barely smoked. When he looked at Rufus again, it was as though he’d drawn shutters over his eyes. “I’ll say good morning, now, if you don’t mind. Tell Serafina I’ll talk to her this evening.”

  Rufus nodded, bade Springer good day, and walked back up the stairs. He felt sure Springer was hiding something from him and Serafina, but he couldn’t imagine what it might be.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Three days later, on a grey and humid afternoon, Rufus and Serafina accompanied Springer to the wharf, where he boarded the Union Steamship Company vessel Waitemata, bound for Australia. At first, Serafina had refused to go, declaring she couldn’t bear to see him sail away. But at the last moment, as Springer and Rufus were about to step into the carriage Springer had hired, she came racing down the stairs with no coat on, imploring them not to leave without her. So the three of them stood at the quayside surveying the ship – a singularly unattractive vessel it seemed to Rufus, with three masts and a tall, thick, ugly steam funnel sticking up from the deck – while the baggage was loaded.

  When the time came to board, Springer shook Rufus’s hand. “Goodbye, Rufus, I hope to see you again before very long. Remember, I’m trusting you to look after Serafina while I’m away.”

  “I will, I give you my word on it. Bon voyage, sir, I hope your business goes well.”

  “Thank you Rufus. I hope so, too. Careful, or you’ll have me in the water!” This last was to Serafina who had flung herself into his arms in a flood of tears and kisses.

  “Oh, Anton, I wish you didn’t have to go. I shan’t know how to go on without you.”

  Springer fended her off as best he could, but gently, for he was clearly almost as affected as she was beneath his veneer of calm. “My dear,” he said, stroking her cheek. “Of course you will, you have Rufus now.”

  “But I’ll miss you so much.”

  “And I’ll miss you, too, my dear. For someone who never wanted children, I’ve become remarkably fond of you, despite your capriciousness.”

  “Me? Capricious?” Serafina exclaimed. “You’re a fine one to talk!” Springer smiled, and Rufus felt sure his words had been calculated to jolt Serafina out of her tearfulness. If so, the ruse worked. Serafina slapped Springer lightly on the cheek. “You’re a wicked, wicked man,” she declared, laughing and kissing the cheek she had struck. “I’m going to close my eyes now, so go quickly before I start crying again.”

  Springer turned and went aboard. Seconds later, he was lost to sight among the other passengers.

  Rufus put his arm about Serafina and hugged her to him. “You can open your eyes now, love. Let’s go home, shall we?”

  As they walked away from the quayside, they heard behind them the hoarse breathing of the ship’s engine and the thin, lonely cry of its horn as it drew away from the quay.

  * * * *

  At first, both Rufus and Serafina found themselves missing Springer’s enigmatic presence in the house. Serafina would sit for hours at a time in his favourite chair, breathing in his scent and reaching out her mind in the hope of finding his. But by the second day the Waitemata had carried him beyond mind reach. Rufus did his best to make her happy, taking her to plays and concerts, and for moonlight walks around the harbour or to the top of Mount Eden, from where they could see the entire town sprawled out beneath the blanket of coal smoke that made its lights seem like embers in a dying fire. Rufus’s chosen source of income remained a bone of contention between them, but he was adamant that he would not take her to gaming houses, where she would attract unwanted, and possibly dangerous, attention.

  One night, about a month after Springer’s departure, Rufus found himself embroiled in yet another round of the same conflict.

  “For goodness’s sake, Serafina,” he told her, his voice sharp with exasperation, “it’s not as though I go every night. Surely you can find something to amuse you while I’m there.”

  “I don’t want to amuse myself. I want to go with you.”

  “Well, you can’t, and you know very well why, so the sooner you accept it, the happier we’ll both be.” Aware that he was beginning to sound like Serafina’s parent rather than her
lover, he made an attempt to mollify her. “Look, I won’t be there for more than an hour or so. Why don’t you meet me outside at, say, nine o’clock? Then you can come with me while I hunt, and afterwards we can walk home together. I promise you, you won’t have to amuse yourself then.”

  But Serafina was not inclined to be appeased. “You’d better not be late,” she told him, “or I might find myself some other entertainment.”

  “I won’t be, I promise. Come on, we can walk together as far as Queen Street.”

  At nine o’clock, fifty-five pounds richer, Rufus left Martin’s, which had become his favourite establishment, to find Serafina already waiting for him. She looked even more enchanting than usual in the new gown Springer had purchased for her before he left, a simple, but elegant creation in the deep crimson that suited her so well.

  “Where did you go tonight?” he asked, kissing her cheek and slipping his arm about her waist.

  She slid out of his grasp, determined to show he was still out of favour. “I went to the Albert Barracks, and found a very handsome young soldier there. I was quite tempted to keep him.”

  “If you’re trying to provoke me, Serafina, I assure you it won’t work,” Rufus told her, though in truth he had felt the prick of jealousy she’d intended him to feel.

  “I could still go back and get him.” Serafina gave him a sidelong glance to see what effect her words were having. “After all, it was you who said I should find something to amuse me, and I’m sure a pretty soldier boy could be most amusing.”

  “Serafina!” Rufus stopped and stared at her. “Why are you talking like that? It’s hardly my fault if places like Martin’s don’t accept women. You know I’d take you with me if I could. Or would you rather we became destitute?”

  “We won’t. Anton will take care of us. But if you absolutely must make your own money, why can’t it be from something that doesn’t exclude me?”

  Rufus turned and grasped Serafina’s shoulders, repressing a strong desire to shake her. “What would you suggest? Prostitution? Highway robbery?”

  “Now you’re just being silly.” Serafina glared back at him, sparks of anger glinting in her eyes. “And let go of me, you’re hurting.”

  With a sigh, Rufus removed his hands. “Why are you being so unreasonable? It’s my duty to provide for us now, not Anton’s, and I’m only trying to do it as best I can.”

  Serafina continued to scowl at him, her face hard and angry. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss away her anger, but the blood hunger was beginning to tear at him, and he couldn’t guarantee the patience needed to make a good job of it. “I must feed now,” he said, keeping his voice low, although there were few people about besides the usual vagrants and drunkards. “Come with me, and afterwards perhaps we can come up with a solution that suits us both.”

  “I don’t think so,” Serafina flung at him, “since you’re determined to shut me out of your ‘men’s business’. Anton has never treated me like that, and I won’t accept it from you. Go on, then, go and feed. Do whatever you like. See if I care!”

  She tossed her head and stalked off down the street.

  Rufus started after her. “Serafina, come back. Please!”

  Serafina ignored him and began walking faster. He began to run after her, but at that moment a young woman standing near the corner of a narrow alleyway between a bakery and a run-down hotel walked towards him. He felt the familiar tightening in his gut as the hunger surged through him, stopping him in his tracks. For a long moment he stood there, torn between making peace with Serafina and feeding his hunger.

  “Good evening, sir.” The young woman’s voice was low and sultry, inflaming not the lust she intended, but the blood hunger that clamoured within him.

  She came to stand close to him, her eyes, fringed by dark lashes, half closed as though with passion. Her lips were full, and painted scarlet. Her perfume smelled of musk and roses. The moment Rufus turned to look at her he was lost, consumed by his need for blood. He took her arm and led her into the darkness of the alley, backing her up against the brick wall and staring into her eyes. They were the colour of seawater so that looking into them was like looking at the ocean on a clear day. As her eyes lost their depth and became expressionless beneath his gaze, he felt his fangs emerge and his entire being focused on the girl’s soft, pink neck and the veins pulsing just below the surface of her skin. Holding her in a tight embrace, he raised his head, almost in a gesture of reverence, and lowered it to a succulent, throbbing vein. Then there was nothing besides blood, sweet and thick, spurting into his hungry mouth and filling him with life.

  Afterwards, Rufus hurried home anxious to make amends with Serafina. He hadn’t realised until tonight just how strongly she felt about being unable to accompany him to the gaming houses. But now he did, he was prepared to concede the point and, since he really couldn’t take her to places like Martin’s, to look for some other way to make money, though he hadn’t the slightest idea what that might be. But nothing, he felt, was worth upsetting Serafina for. Besides, she might well feel more complaisant about it when she had had more time to come to terms with Anton’s absence. It must be a considerable wrench to her after they’d been together for so long.

  He arrived home to find the house in darkness, but this didn’t surprise him, since of course Serafina could see perfectly well in the dark. She was probably waiting for him in the parlour, or in bed. His body stirred in anticipation. Unlocking the door, he stepped into the dark well of the hallway. The house felt strangely empty. Puzzled, Rufus reached out his mind to Serafina – and found nothing. Unwilling to believe what his senses were telling him, he raced from room to room, turning on lights as though their glare might reveal what he already knew was not there. Desperate now, he dashed out to the back garden. He even searched the tumbledown shed. Inside and out, the house was completely empty. Where could Serafina have gone? No matter how angry she might be with him, surely she wouldn’t have left him. Would she? He strode back inside and flung himself onto a couch in the parlour, racking his brains for some clue as to where Serafina might have gone. Then he recalled her remark about amusing herself with a handsome young soldier. He hadn’t thought she was serious at the time, and he still thought it unlikely, but then he’d never seen her so angry and resentful before. Well, he had to start looking for her somewhere, and the Albert Barracks seemed as good a place as any.

  During his hurried walk to the barracks, Rufus kept his senses open to any hint of Serafina’s presence, but he caught no sign of her. Nor did he find the slightest hint of her at the barracks, nor at any of the other places she favoured for hunting. As a last resort, he made a tour of the gaming establishments he frequented, but to no avail. At last, he turned his steps towards home, hoping Serafina would be there when he arrived.

  But the house stood as empty and still as it had before.

  Frantic with dread, Rufus climbed the stairs and threw himself onto the bed, but leapt up again immediately because he could smell Serafina there and it was more than he could bear. He dashed downstairs again and spent the rest of the night either pacing about the parlour or sitting with his head – which seemed simultaneously filled with pain and as empty as the house itself – in his hands. He could think of no possible reason why Serafina would have left him so suddenly – and so completely. Yes, they had quarrelled, but they’d quarrelled before and she hadn’t left him. Besides, where could she go without money? No, something must have happened to take her away – but what? Into his mind came the picture of Serafina standing, brow furrowed, sensing the fleeting sign of another vampire.

  He sat up, his heart pounding. That must be it, surely. Who else would have the power to take Serafina from him? He could not even remotely imagine why some unknown vampire would take her, but every instinct told him it must be the answer.

  Rufus dragged himself to his feet. “I will find you, Serafina,” he vowed through gritted teeth. “I don’t know where you are, or why you’ve been
taken, but by God, I swear I’ll find you and bring you home!”

  TWENTY-THREE

  Serafina woke to find herself lying on a velvet-covered chaise longue with a plump, velvet cushion beneath her head. She was still fully clothed, though someone had thought to cover her with a rug. But where on earth was she? And why was she here? She cast her mind back, but found no memory of coming to this place – wherever it was. Her last memories were of walking away from Rufus along Queen Street, of someone calling her name – and of a pair of black eyes as deep as forever...

  In sudden panic, she sat up and stared about her. She was in a spacious and opulent room decorated in scarlet and gold. Throwing back the rug, she stood up and began to pace about the room in agitation. It was certainly a lovely room, with its sumptuous red oriental rugs, its elegant furniture and beautiful paintings and ornaments. Above the massive tiled fireplace, two highly polished military sabres hung on the wall in a cross formation, and a variety of swords and knives lay on shelves in a wide, glass-fronted cabinet to one side of the fireplace. A bookcase covered the wall on its other side, and two large armchairs faced each other in front of it.

  But why was she here, and where was Rufus?

  She went to the windows, hoping for some clue in the street outside. As she began to part the gold velvet curtains, she heard a soft, sensuous voice behind her and recognised it as the one that had called her name.

  “Ah, Serafina, welcome to my humble abode.”

  Serafina whirled to see, standing just inside the doorway, a tall, voluptuous woman in an elegant gown of wine-coloured silk, cut low across her white bosom. The profusion of black hair curling over her shoulders and down to her waist, her dark, sloe eyes and exotic features, reminded Serafina of pictures she’d seen of ancient Minoans, except that her skin was pale and translucent, with a smooth, almost waxy quality. She looked to be about thirty years of age, but instinct told Serafina the vampire was far older – older, even, than Anton.