by E. C. Hibbs
We landed in a decrepit maze of streets, close to the mouth of the Mersey. Keeping us shadowed, James pressed me against a grimy wall, one arm across my stomach to keep me behind him. The odour of seedy pubs and cheap alcohol was on the air, mingling with the salt of the sea. I could hear raucous music in the distance; brightly-dressed women staggered by, without so much as a glance to display they knew of our presence.
I thought James would target one of them, but instead he waited until many of the pedestrians had disappeared around a corner. Mere minutes later, a man walked in the opposite direction, his face ruddy from ale.
Before I could take a second look, James sprung forwards, mist flying around him. He struck the man hard on the back of the head, knocking him unconscious. Then he dragged him towards me, down a narrow adjacent alley. There were no streetlamps, but I could make out lines of laundry criss-crossing overhead between the buildings; old rotten crates discarded along the cobbles. James deposited his catch in a small alcove before glancing around, checking the coast was clear.
He turned his eyes on me, gleaming with fire, smiling mischievously. Despite myself, I returned it, feeling my own irises beginning to turn red. I saw their glow on his face before he brought his mouth to the front of the man’s neck. He crushed the windpipe, drank deeply, and then moved away, inviting me to take my turn.
I glanced between James and the wound, just visible around his fingers as he held the torn skin closed. I licked my dry lips; the hot, sumptuous smell beginning to work its way into my nose. It had the effect of bringing out just how needy I was for it, and I didn’t wait another moment before repeating as he had done, filling my stomach with the sweet nectar. I could taste the alcohol in the man’s blood, making it heavy and sharper than last time, but I didn’t care. It was nothing compared to how much I wanted it.
James had been right. He knew my requirements better than even I did. I had to trust him in matters like this. I met his eyes, drawing back and wiping a trail of redness from my chin.
“Better,” he commented, nodding at me. “Remarkably less messy.”
“This is disgusting,” I whispered.
“But necessary.” James pressed two fingers to the man’s wrist, and upon finding no pulse, got to his feet. Then he held out a hand to help me up.
“Can you fly yet?” he asked.
I stared. “Beg pardon?”
“I know you can hover. That will have manifested itself by now. But can you fly?”
“I... don’t know,” I admitted. “I’ve never tried.”
“Well, no time like the present,” said James, lifting the man off the ground and over his shoulder before letting out his wings.
“Feel a lightness in your bones,” James instructed. “Let it spread through you; bear you into the air. Keep hold of it, control it.”
I nodded to show I understood, and closed my eyes in concentration, forcing myself to recall the feelings of those times when I had found myself aloft in my bedroom.
To my surprise, my body complied after only a few seconds, embracing the power lying latent in my mind. I heard James chuckling softly and looked at him again. My feet were off the ground, and we were now the same height.
“Congratulations,” he said. “You’re a quick learner. Another attractive asset to your character.”
“Is that supposed to be flattery?” I asked.
“It hardly has any power when there is a corpse between us, Eva,” James smirked. “Now, come with me.”
Without another word, he soared upwards. I followed him, straining hard to stay in control of my movement. The overcast sky shrouded me as I emerged into it, and I couldn’t fight the urge to glance back at the ground. It seemed an alarming distance away, and I gave a little yelp, feeling my muscles seizing with impending panic. But before I could fall, James’s free hand fastened around my wrist and dragged me on.
The stability of his hold gave me the nerve to keep control, and the two of us flew the half mile to the riverbank. There, we landed, weighted the man with rocks, and James lowered him into the black water far out from the shore.
Afterwards, James returned to me and led the way to the rooftops, sitting me on the wide rim of a chimney stack. He perched beside me, folding in his wings.
“You are impressing me thus far, Miss Calvin,” he said, gently toying with a flyaway piece of hair that had worked out of my braid. “It’s extraordinary, isn’t it? Like some perfect drug that satisfies so much more than anything else could. Forget opium and absinthe.”
I didn’t answer right away, swallowing to loosen my throat. Then I ran my tongue around my teeth, still tasting the residue of fresh blood.
“I will never allow myself to become used to this,” I asserted, pulling my plait over the opposite shoulder to stop him playing with it.
“It would be easier for you,” James said immediately.
“Easy is not always the right way.”
“Do you think our nature is right, in any form? Humans made animals? No. So take whatever relief you can, while you can.”
I looked across at him. “What are you saying? I thought you told me I cannot fight this.”
“You can’t,” said James, scratching the back of his neck. “In a case such as ours, you cannot fight what you do not ask for – at least not in body. You never wanted this. Nor did I. Nor did your own turner. It’s a part of the riddle of our beings.
“But one thing you can fight is what it will do to your resolve. It is such a simple matter to let yourself become insane from this venom inside. By all means, I should be entirely lost by now, with the amount of years I have behind me since I began. But I still have my wits about me because I refuse to let them go.”
“So it’s a matter of conserving energy, for want of a better phrase?” I asked. “Take other’s lives so that my own may be spared?”
“It is all you will have left before long,” James replied idly. “Even death is not obligated to you anymore. That is, unless you desire to find one who would be willing to stake your heart, cut off your head, and then burn all that is left of you.”
I exclaimed in disgust, getting up and striding to the edge of the roof. It was flat, and lined with chimneypots like a bizarre balustrade. I took hold of one, my head spinning with his words.
“Come now, there is nothing wrong with a sense of humour in situations like this,” said James, and even though I kept my back to him, I could imagine the wicked gleam in his eye.
Determined not to look at him, I stared across the tops of the buildings. They stretched like a great forest of slate and brick, darkened by layers of accumulated dirt and sooty residue. A murky yellowed fog had spread through the streets, lingering over the river, pungent with the scent of the city. In the distance, I could just make out the tangle of masts from the docks.
It was a view that I had never even imagined before, and sent excited chills running down my spine. With my feet firmly planted, I found my previous vertigo disappeared in the light of appreciation for this spectacle all around me.
“What are you thinking about, Eva?” asked James, a little softer now.
“I... don’t know,” I admitted, touching the locket. “And that is not my name,” I added. “Please pronounce it the way it should be. Éva Kálvin.”
“Éva Kálvin,” James repeated. “Do you instruct everybody to address you this way?”
“There’s no point.” I turned around so I was facing him again. “But I know that is who I am. And I will keep her, cost what it may.”
James inclined his back slightly so he was resting against the chimney. “You remind me of myself, a little,” he said. “It feels like it’s you against the world, doesn’t it?”
I hesitated, a stab of shock in my heart to realise how true he was. He must have seen some kind of betraying reaction in my face, because he gave a small nod and continued.
“I know you are an orphan. How else could your grandfather have summoned you here, if both your parents were
not dead and able to prevent it? Why would he have risked tearing your family apart? But there never was any family, was there?”
I shook my head and spoke through gritted teeth. “No, there was not. Only me and my cousins. No thanks to our own native dark ones.”
“Ah, I see,” James hummed. “Taken by vampires. No wonder you are so knowledgeable already.”
“My mother was,” I corrected. “But at least when she died, she would have gone on to meet her husband in heaven. I’ll never have that, will I? I shall never see her again.”
As I spoke, my voice grew tight, and eventually broke. I tried to hold in my tears, but it was to no avail, and they spilled over, hot and raw down my cheeks. I covered my eyes, quickly yielding and letting the sorrow take me.
Long seconds passed, leaving me standing there by myself, but then I lowered my hands, and found that James had moved to stand in front of me. He made no further action, but the fact that he hadn’t simply stayed sitting there like a spectator struck a peculiar chord within my being.
“And it is times like this when you will envy the harmless so much more,” he whispered, though I sensed it was more to himself than to me.
“Harmless what?” I snivelled, unable to help myself.
“Another kind of vampire.” James looked at me flatly. “You do not know of them? I’m surprised.”
“What are they?”
“They have red eyes, like all juveniles do, but they are not like us. Not Revenants or Izcacus, or any other kind confined as we are. No, they bear no eternal shackles. They are free. They can walk about in daylight; cross borders; lead a somewhat normal life among humans. When their time comes, they can die naturally. And the only reason why we demons are so different is because they gave permission to be turned. They make a morbid agreement with their turner; opt to lead such a life when there is the chance to keep humanity: the chance and choice we are never allowed.”
I stared at him, hurriedly bolting down the rest of my tears. “That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s more than ridiculous. It is plain unjust garbage,” James snarled. “We are little more than animals in comparison. I’m not even certain we can even have children, once we come of age as full demonic vampires.”
He sighed, shaking his body a little as though casting off the weight of the conversation. “But that is not a concern of either of us. I have no personal qualms with any harmless, and I would rather conserve any grudges for those who deserve them.”
Something in the way he said that made me look twice at him. There was something beneath his smooth, cold facade that I couldn’t quite identify. I supposed a being as old as him was bound to have secrets and layers to his character beyond my comprehension. Yet I could not stop myself from wondering how he had become like this. Where was his mark of transition if not on his neck? Who was he?
James Hayes is not his real name, Zíta’s words echoed in my head. Discover what it is with all haste!
“Why are you telling me all this?” I asked, crossing my arms across my chest.
“I could ask you the same question,” he replied wily. “If you want to play a game of guessing about the other, Éva, then I’m more than happy to sit across the board from you.”
“I am playing no game,” I said.
“Then you have decided to trust me?”
“After a fashion, yes. I mentioned that before.”
“Good.” James fixed me with his intense, bottomless stare. “That being said; let me give you some food for thought, Miss Calvin. You are perfectly free to leave any game you find yourself in.” He paused deviously. “As soon as you find a way out.”
CHAPTER XVI
Spring gradually gave way to the golden warmth of summer. Liverpool became alive with colour as all manner of flowers bloomed with absolute pride. Vendors traversed the streets, offering sprigs of roses, baskets of strawberries, and toy windmills for children. The river thronged with ship traffic; the docks heaving as all the goods were unloaded from long journeys.
I met with James twice more, and both times he took me away to the slums, instructing me how to master my flight. Then he showed how to shadow myself: calling on the darkness around me to conceal my body from any prying eyes.
Thrilled at my growing powers, I found fascination creeping through my veins in regards to my strange tutor. Old questions spun in my mind. Who was he? What was I to him? But I spoke nothing of them, convinced that they would be met with ridicule.
James went about his work with all the care of a skilled hunter. It was like watching actions more akin to some great carnivore from Africa than of a man. He could behave like a human when need called for it, but with me, he did not hesitate to display every ounce of cunning and agility.
He would target a separate area always, carefully selecting from the drunkards and homeless who would be easily overlooked. Closing my eyes so that I couldn’t see the filthy deeds, I drank deeply; then filled the pockets with stones before helping to deposit the unfortunates to their watery graves.
Soon there were concerns beginning to flutter around the poor regions and workhouses, and I noticed small reports about missing people while thumbing through the local newspaper. But all of the leads were expertly scuffed by James, and he was quick to assure nothing could be traced. He constantly reminded me that death and disappearances were rife amid the lower classes, and had been for years. A few empty beds were nothing out of the ordinary unless a body was found; which he never let happen.
“Nothing is in our way,” he whispered to me one night. “Are you still afraid?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Why? You are safe with me.”
“But can you protect me from myself?”
James smirked. “Why would I need to do that? Are you not strong-willed enough to take care of your own whims? Or have you yet more to learn from me?”
I looked at him firmly. “How can I not lose all that I am to this? How did you do it?”
“You honestly think I am whole?” asked James, but not with his usual sarcasm. “I’m not.”
I mulled over everything he had said to me, fascinated by my strange companion. But on many occasions, I was forced to think about other things, such as Benjamin. Fully aware of the significance of our relationship, I now wasn’t sure how to act towards him. He was a nice young man, true enough, but I resented the fact that I had been promised to him on the words of others. Perhaps in different and free circumstances, something could have happened naturally between us. And after all, despite his irritating arrogance, I was sure there were things about me which he also could find disagreeable.
Like my accent, I thought quickly, so I couldn’t acknowledge my secret life. Margaret still chides me on the way I speak. That must frustrate him too.
But if it did, I never sensed any kind of inkling from Benjamin. He always seemed pleased to simply have my company, and I wasn’t certain of my feelings about that. It was to me, as though he believed I could do no wrong; that I was somehow incapable of any kind of sin.
Even though I knew it was coming, I was still somewhat taken aback when he looked earnestly into my eyes at the formal announcement, producing a bejewelled ring from his breast pocket. Smiling, he slid it onto the third finger of my left hand, and the gathered guests burst into applause.
I stared at it, unable to ignore its sudden presence where I had never worn jewellery before. It looked strange against the contrast of my black sleeve.
The meaning of it all suddenly slammed into me. I was betrothed.
The next few weeks flew by as though I were trapped in a perpetual daze. An outstanding party was arranged at Weaver House for Benjamin and me. It would have been customary for such an event to be held by my family, as I was the bride; but since there was only myself and Margaret, it was agreed to be better for the Jones’ to host the evening.
Despite my mourning, Margaret dug out a more formal-looking gown from my collection. It was still dark, but not as sombre as what I
had become used to. Then she sent Christine on her way, opting to help me dress herself.
I went suspiciously quiet at that, but waited patiently on my bed, inspecting the ring. There had to be some underlying reason for her to want time alone with me. And I didn’t have to wait long before I was subjected to it.
“Up,” Margaret commanded, taking a long corset from my armoire. I did as I was told, duly clutching the bedpost so she could lace the undergarment around my waist.
“I suppose all the bother with the inheritance serves as a true seal for this union, at any rate,” she muttered.
“How so?” I asked; gasping as the breath was forced out of my lungs.
“Dowry, girl. We would have given some degree of monetary gift to the Jones family for the marriage. I just didn’t expect it to be twenty thousand pounds.”
“But all that belongs to me,” I insisted.
“Not from your wedding day, it won’t. At least, unless Benjamin allows you to keep your say in it,” said Margaret. “Now Norman is gone, God rest him, and he’s left it all to you, everything will become your husband’s property. You will be only Mrs Jones, once that day is gone.”
“How can such a notion be true for a union so binding?” I couldn’t help snapping.
“Because, as I have already told you, there is no love in this. Only business.” Margaret lowered her voice dangerously. “And there is no place for a hopeless romantic in any of it.”
“I am not a hopeless romantic,” I said. “I simply respect myself, Mrs Calvin.”
“Let’s just hope you still have the mind and decency to respect your elders, too,” hissed Margaret, and I gritted my teeth as she pulled the strings on my corset tighter than ever before.
The two of us took the carriage to Benjamin’s mansion, which had been adorned with garlands of yellow and pink flowers, while a string quartet was hired for atmospheric music. Guests of high society swarmed around us, offering their congratulations and good wishes, and sipping tall glasses of the best champagne. And when my husband-to-be took me in his arms for the first dance, I couldn’t help but feel some kind of dumb shock that this, soon, was to be my home too. The majestic halls and chambers of Weaver House would be completely open to me: Mrs Éva Jones.
