by Trish Telep
"I don't like the look of him," James whispered, leaning a little closer to me. He had a hint of a southern drawl that was somehow comforting after listening to Dr. Connell's precise British tones, even though I had always liked British accents prior to his. "Something about him. I've seen some unpleasant characters in my day, and he'll be added to the list."
I smiled, feeling as if a spell had broken. "I think so too."
We talked to James until Auntie and Dr. Connell returned. They both had a gleam in their eyes, looking at us as a predator looks on its prey. Of course Auntie wouldn't have agreed to the separation right away. She was a savvy businesswoman. She would have attempted to get as much of his fortune as she could before giving in.
Ever since that day, he had turned up at most of our performances, whether in England or stateside. He seemed to have unlimited means, and he always simply "happened" to be in Chicago or Boston or Edinburgh or nearly anywhere we traveled. We only escaped him in the American south, where they were suspicious of mages except their own. He would take us out to dinner on occasion, flatter Auntie and talk about our unfortunate condition and his wish that we could have the life of ordinary girls.
All the while, I was secretly exchanging letters with Mr. Martin--James. They had started as friendly little notes, but how quickly they had become outpourings of the heart, where I made my writing as small as I could to fill the page.
James felt like the first thing that had ever been mine.
* * *
On this, our last trip on the Airship Gemini, Uncle Marcel was, as usual, our opening act. We watched him from the wings of the opulent airship stage. The moment when he walked out from behind the curtain, the audience always gasped, and a lady or two would always scream, but Uncle Marcel took it all in stride. He strolled out across the stage like it was Sunday at the park, with his walking stick, black-and-white spectator shoes and well-tailored suit.
He always opened with several ridiculous jokes about his appearance, such as, "I just got back from visiting my mother in the Nile River, and my God I could use a drink." Or, "When I was young, I would ask my father, 'Mon pere, I can be anything I like when I grow up, can't I?' And he would look at me fondly and say, 'Yes, anything you like. As long as it's working with the blind.'"
The audience laughed as they always did, but Faith and I were clenching hands. We had never given much thought to Uncle Marcel's show before. We had never wondered how much it hurt him to make those jokes. But now we remembered the yearning he couldn't hide when he told us about Dr. Connell's offer, and we could hardly bear it.
"Poor Uncle Marcel," Faith whispered.
The jokes relaxed the audience so the ladies were no longer shrieking, but laughing. Then Uncle Marcel would say, "Now that I have made you laugh, I shall make you cry." A stagehand would produce his violin, and he would play music of such unexpected beauty that it would take everyone off-guard. I'd been afraid of Uncle Marcel the first time I saw him, like everyone else was, but when I heard him play the violin, he seemed touched by the very angels.
He always departed the stage to heartfelt applause, leaving the crowd in the proper state of awe and pity to fully appreciate our own act.
That evening, the audience consisted of magic practitioners and their families. They were mostly indistinguishable from ordinary humans, but were a more international crowd than we were accustomed to--a handful of fey with their instantly recognizable beauty, and perhaps even a few werewolves or vampires. We could only speculate. It was odd to be a curiosity among a crowd of people who were curious enough themselves. But my eyes searched only for a lone man with dark red hair and a lively face.
James was sitting alone at a small table near the wall. He caught my eyes and smiled, then discreetly lifted three fingers. I looked away before anyone could catch me staring.
Three a.m. A thrill ran down my spine. A late night visit would be risky with Dr. Connell on board, but I wouldn't miss it for the world.
Auntie finished her usual introduction, a weepy story of how she had cared for us all these years, along with a taste of the details audiences craved--how we had the appearance of being joined at the hip, but were actually locked together at the base of our spines, the ligament between us stretching enough to allow us to move side by side. She told them of how our clothes were specially made. How we claimed that we couldn't read one another's minds, but Auntie often wondered because of all the mischief we got up to! That always got a laugh. But it was a lie--she didn't tolerate much mischief from us before the strap came out.
We wore frilly pink dresses for the stage, still girlishly cut above our ankles even though other girls our age wore dresses to their feet. And our hair was still dressed in curls with bows, not in the sophisticated pompadours we wished for. We were small for our age, and Auntie wanted to keep us like children as long as she could.
We danced and played duets on a variety of instruments, including the Gemini's concert grand piano, and told fabricated, cheerful stories about our lives as conjoined twins. I was usually a fine actress, but just now I was so preoccupied with my hopes and fears that I almost missed my cue to make a witty quip in response to Faith.
I was so anxious to see James that every minute dragged. Even worse, I had to endure the dinner with Dr. Connell first. Faith was nearly in tears as we changed out of our performance dresses and back into equally juvenile sailor suits.
"I don't want to be separated," she whispered.
"I know."
"But Uncle Marcel ..."
"He doesn't want us to go through with it just for him," I said. "We must be firm with Dr. Connell."
Auntie led the way to Dr. Connell's private cabin, which had a small parlor with the windows courteously curtained for the benefit of her nerves. We could hardly bear to meet his gaze. He had a trim little brush of a mustache and small, pearly teeth. Something about those teeth, perfect as they were, made our skin crawl.
"A wonderful show, girls, as always." Dr. Connell enunciated his words slightly more than other people, which was even worse than the teeth. "But I fear you looked a bit tired."
We shook our heads. Faith stirred her cambric tea noisily enough to verge upon rudeness.
Dr. Connell got straight to the point. "You girls are very fond of your Uncle Marcel, aren't you?"
"You know we are," I said.
"He is certainly skilled with the violin," Dr. Connell continued. "I imagine he'd rather be admired as a musician than have to stoop to the sad little act he does now. I imagine it must pain him that ladies scream at the very sight of him."
As he spoke, Auntie nodded sadly.
How I hated them! How dare Dr. Connell act as if he cared at all for Uncle Marcel, and how dare he use our affection for him to force us to break apart.
I had never thought about hating anyone before, and it made me feel more powerful than my small, girlish body, tethered to Faith, really allowed. Uncle Marcel had said we had to bide our time.
I didn't want to bide my time.
"Just think, it will be better for everyone if you're separated," Auntie continued. "It will make Mr. DuBois happy, and once it's done, you'll see it's much better. You'll be free to have normal lives and you shall no longer be gawked at, and I can stop hustling my old bones around the world."
"We-we don't want to be separated," Faith said.
Auntie gave Dr. Connell a knowing look. "They're just at that foolish age. Too young to understand what a gift you're offering them."
Dr. Connell patted her hand.
Auntie continued, "I've discussed it with Dr. Connell and we feel you should be separated before the Gemini lands."
"What?" Faith said. "On the Gemini? Shouldn't it be done in a hospital?"
"Mages don't need hospitals," Dr. Connell said. "There is an infirmary on the ship which will fully suffice. If I can't separate you, no one can. And I will. I will. I will go down in history as the greatest mage of the new century. I'm quite capable of handling the anesth
esia as well, so you needn't worry about that."
The word "anesthesia" made it all sound real. They had a plan. Terror rushed through me, blocking my thoughts. I barely heard him speaking anymore.
"--when we touch down in New York, we'll be an absolute sensation. The country will be riveted!"
We were trapped. There was nowhere to even attempt an escape.
I pushed my plate away and shut my eyes, willing the world away. Uncle Marcel's warnings were useless. Even if it was true that Auntie couldn't force us to separate by law, there wasn't exactly a courtroom on the Gemini.
* * *
Usually we slept a little before meeting James, but that night we stayed awake, whispering.
"What if we told everyone onboard that Dr. Connell planned to separate us against our will? That would ruin everything for him, wouldn't it?" Faith said.
"Yes ... but I don't know if anyone would believe us. He has lots of powerful friends. Besides, Dr. Connell is the only one who can help Uncle Marcel."
Faith sniffed. "What would it be like to be apart and alone? Have you ever tried to imagine it?"
Sometimes I imagined myself--not apart and alone--but with James. Just the two of us. "I don't like to," I said. Was I being truthful?
"Me neither." She hesitated, and then said, "But what about James?"
"James?"
"Don't be coy, Patience, I know you want to marry him. And I ... I might be in the way."
"If he doesn't want to marry me as I am ..." I trailed off, however. James had always treated us like normal girls, but he loved me, not Faith. Our relationship had mostly been conducted privately, through letters, but now that we were meeting all these nights on the ship, Faith was stuck sharing all our moments. And sometimes I know she didn't really want to leave her bed at three o'clock in the morning to accompany me to a rendezvous with James. Sometimes I resented her for it, deep down--but could I really hide these emotions from her forever?
We were no longer children, and I worried it could become even more complicated if Faith herself was to ever fall in love.
"I do hate Dr. Connell, but maybe ... for Uncle Marcel's sake ..." I ventured.
I couldn't even bear to voice the thoughts in my head--that I had never thought of Uncle Marcel as a man with feelings like other men until tonight, that I had never wondered about his hopes and dreams, that I felt ashamed for it. For years he had been there for us and we had taken it for granted. He told us stories. He even sat up with us when we had the flu.
"Maybe," she whispered. She nudged me. "It's almost three."
We opened the door and stepped out into the hall with our feet in slippers. The sight of James approaching, by lights kept low in the wee hours, melted all my apprehension.
"Good evening, Miss Patience. Miss Faith. You look a bit troubled."
"Dr. Connell is going to separate us," I said, dropping my eyes to James's worn but carefully polished shoes. "Tomorrow. On the airship. Before we land."
"Patience ..." James took a step closer and cupped my cheek. His hand was cool and soothing. I lifted my chin and met his soft eyes, the blue just visible in the dim glow. I knew my own were gleaming with anguish.
"I suppose ... it would make things easier ... for us," I said. "But ... I don't want ..." I had trouble explaining my feelings to James.
"Of course not," James said. "All you know is what you are. The Bible may have been talking about marriage when it says, 'what God has put together, let not man tear asunder,' but I think ..."
"No wonder Auntie didn't let us go to church," Faith muttered, although of course that wasn't the reason. Auntie simply didn't want fellow churchgoers to get a free look.
I flushed at the word "marriage."
James sighed. "I do need to talk to you about something." He propped his elbow against the wall to rub his forehead with the heel of his hand. My gut clenched. If he was going to break my heart ...
"I've been trying to think what to say, but I just need to say it. I haven't been entirely honest with you. When we first started talking, well, I thought you could use a friend. Lord, the last thing I meant to do was fall in love, but before I knew it, your letters were the best part of my week. But ..."
"But," I repeatedly bitterly, knowing now what was coming.
He frowned, his expression tightening. "I have something to confess to you. I'm a vampire, Patience."
I tried to say something, but instead only let out a little shocked breath.
"I can see why you don't want to be separated from your sister. I know how painful it is to become something ... else." He was pacing, in what little room for pacing the narrow hall afforded.
He leaned against the wall again. "But I've been trying to think how I can ask for your hand in marriage. Because when a vampire asks a woman to share his life with him ... well, it's no simple matter."
I was still trying to reconcile the thought. James--my unassuming James, a man of shabby suits and letters--a vampire. One of the world's most frightening hunters. With great strength and speed and keen senses. "How could you be ...? I mean, vampires are ... are cruel and dangerous. And the sun, and ... and--"
"Now, surely you know better than to believe everything you read." A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. I'd complained to him quite a few times about the inaccuracies printed about Faith and me.
"But ... could you be dangerous, if you wished to be?"
"I could be." He raised his eyebrows. "There are a lot of vampires out there who look unassuming ..." He took my hand, a hand so small I could wear a child's gloves. "But on the inside, they're stronger than any human on earth."
I supposed I should have been shocked and should have told him straight out that, of course, no sensible girl would want to become a vampire, and yet, I was not so appalled as I should have been. I was tired of being small and powerless, doing what I was told.
But it was no light matter to become a vampire. To leave my old self behind after a separation from Faith was one thing, but to agree to a death and rebirth was another.
"Are you really only twenty-two?" I asked, unsure I wanted to know the answer.
"1822 ... is the year I was born," he said. "I was turned in 1845, and I had to leave home. They didn't look kindly on vampires back then, even more so than now. Went back home to South Carolina after the War Between the States to see if my little sisters were all right. They were old. Mothers of children about my age. I told them I was a cousin, gave them a little money ... and I never went back again. So, it's not easy. But it has its rewards."
James released my hand, which was trembling a little. I didn't know what to say.
He glanced at his pocketwatch. "Well, you probably want to think about all I've said."
"Yes ..."
"Will you be all right, though? With Dr. Connell?"
"We will," Faith said.
"Just do try and get a little sleep." He kissed my hand with lips I now knew had tasted blood.
"And here we were worried that Auntie would object to his being a Catholic," Faith whispered as he walked away.
* * *
"Dr. Connell," Faith begged, "you must help Uncle Marcel first. You promised!"
Auntie had ushered us, without breakfast, into the airship infirmary still wearing our nightgowns, as we had no other clothes that left our connecting ligament exposed.
"I promise I will do what I can for that damned fruity lizard when we land in New York, but I don't have time for that now."
"Oh, please!" I cried, panicked that Uncle Marcel would miss his chance. "How long could it take?"
"Ladies first, that is my policy," Dr. Connell said firmly, pushing us toward the operating table. It was wide enough to accommodate us, small as we were, with leather straps to restrain two hands, two feet, one head. The table was cold through the fabric of my nightgown.
The entire room filled me with a deep-down dread--the machine housed in a wooden cabinet in the corner with a brass plate labeling it, "Dr. Iansbury's Pate
nted Electrical Relief for Airborne Hysteria"; the open case of knives and hooks and other gleaming silver implements with usages I didn't want to think about; the small mounted cabinet of potions in brown bottles.
Among all these frightening tools of the medical sorcerer's trade was a framed painting of the Gemini itself, sailing serenely through the blue sky over modern buildings and chimneys spewing trails of smoke below.
Dr. Connell put his hands on our foreheads and pushed us down on the operating table. "Please. Lie still."
He fastened a leather strap around my right foot. When I tried to pull it back, he held me fast. On instinct, I kicked at him but he deflected me, shoving my foot down hard on the table. My heart was pounding.
"You don't have to restrain us," Faith said. "Where could we run?"
"This table wasn't made for two, but I don't need you wriggling around. It's for your safety." He made his way to my hand as he spoke, drawing another strap around my wrist. And now we did wriggle.
"Stop," Faith said. "I ... I don't want to do this. I've changed my mind! Help!"
"Hush!" Auntie said. "I warned the staff you might scream, that it might hurt a little and you are of excitable temperaments. But they all understand it's for your own good. No one will come to help you so you might as well stop yelling."
Someone knocked on the door.
"Who is that?" she snapped.
When no one answered, the knock came more insistently. "It's the Herald. I heard about your groundbreaking operation, and I hoped to cover this fascinating story for the paper. It would be our cover story, of course!"
I smiled inwardly at the way James's drawl sped up when he was in reporter mode, but I wasn't sure whether to be joyous or dismayed at the thought of him entering the room and finding us in such a shameful position.
Dr. Connell opened the door a crack. "Oh, the papers will never leave me alone. How did you hear about this?"
"Why, Dr. Connell, sir, you are one of England's finest sorcerers. Did you really think you could attempt to separate the world's most famous Siamese twins since Chang and Eng and keep it a secret?"
