by E. C. Hibbs
I groaned, turning onto my side so I could bury my face in the pillow. Why hadn’t James come for me yet? It wasn’t like he needed to prove a point this time, leaving me alone until I lost control. But if I went for much longer, then I’d have no choice but to go out by myself. I could do it; I’d learned enough from him to know how to move in the shadows.
However, the more I thought about it, the more I realised that this didn’t feel the same as my last illness. True, I was thirsty, but there was already a strange metallic taste in my mouth, as though I’d not long swallowed blood. And my stomach was churning. That had definitely never happened previously.
Before I could ponder it any more, nausea wracked my whole body and I sat bolt upright, hand across my mouth. Henry leapt away in surprise, but the chambermaid acted quickly, snatching a basin and throwing it under me. I winced as I retched, acridness stinging my sinuses. Then coughed feebly and fell against the pillows, drinking a nearby glass of water in just a few gulps.
Half an hour later, the doctor arrived and checked me over in the same way the last one had. I closed my eyes, waiting for the moment when he’d bring out the dreaded apparatus to open a wound on my arm.
But to my surprise, it didn’t come. Instead, he ushered Benjamin and Henry from the room and proceeded to inspect me again. He pressed his spindly fingers to my belly, prodding gently; then drew back with a curious smile.
“Messrs Jones,” he called after a while, “please come in.”
The two men instantly complied, looking at him expectantly. Henry straightened his waistcoat and subtly placed a banknote on a side table.
“Don’t look so fretful, my dear Sir,” said the doctor to Benjamin, who was hovering anxiously by the window. “It’s actually very good news. Many congratulations are in order for you.”
“Why?” Benjamin asked.
The doctor gave my arm a gentle tap. “Mrs Jones is with child.”
My heart instantly hammered. My eyes flew down to my stomach, hand fleeting over the satin dress that covered it.
Then I glanced at Benjamin. His mouth was agape; expression flaccid. But he suddenly seemed to come to his senses and ran to me, grasping my face in his warm palms. His chocolate eyes were alight with joy.
“Good God!” he beamed. “Truly? You are not mistaken, Sir?”
“I should think not,” replied the doctor. “On my honour, I can say that you are both to be parents in a little over seven months’ time.”
Benjamin quickly calculated in his head. “May,” he muttered. “It shall be May; perhaps June... is that right?”
“Certainly.” The doctor packed his things and went to Henry, shaking his hand cordially and taking the payment. Benjamin barely remembered to thank him for his services before returning to my side, perching on the mattress. He pushed the coverlet a little further down my body so my midriff was in better view.
“Congratulations,” smiled Henry from the end of the bed. “Well, this explains your little episode, at any rate. Nothing but morning sickness.”
I met his eyes. “That is definitely a relief,” I said in a small voice, still too taken aback by the doctor’s proclamation to speak loudly.
“Oh, my darling, I am so happy!” Benjamin cried, turning me so he could place his forehead against mine. “My sweet dear! Can you believe it? We are to have a child! And it will be the most beautiful babe, I know it! We shall give it a life fit for a king! Would you wish for a boy or a girl, Éva? I honestly don’t mind, you know... I am just overjoyed, truly!”
I shook my head gently. “I don’t mind either,” I whispered, glancing back at my belly.
I let Benjamin go on babbling his excitement, his exact words lost on me as I struggled to grasp this new fact. Then it seemed to strike me, all of a sudden, finding its place to register in my brain, and I burst into blissful tears.
I was to be a mother.
CHAPTER XXII
That night, Benjamin came to bed early, changing into his nightshirt before sliding between the sheets next to me. I drew in a breath as he reached over and pulled me close to him, one hand curled around my belly.
“How are you now?” he whispered.
I ground my teeth. I was facing away from him, but I was still very aware of how close his blood was to me.
“I am fine,” I said in the end.
“You have a temperature.”
“I still feel nauseous,” I admitted. “It may be a good idea to let go of me, Benjamin, in case I need to move.”
He immediately complied and released me, instead beginning to stroke his hand down the length of my spine. I closed my eyes in pleasure, exhaling into the pillow. I could tell he was still ecstatic from the discovery, and would have carried on about it all night, but I was relieved when his gentle caresses slowed, then stopped completely. I glanced over my shoulder and found him sound asleep, a contented smile on his lips.
Chuckling to myself, I kissed them fleetingly. When he didn’t stir, I eased myself out of bed, pulling a pair of slippers onto my feet and a wrap around my shoulders. Moving quietly, I went to stand in front of the large looking-glass in the corner.
It was almost completely dark, but I could still pick out the details of myself, standing there like a pale ghost. My nightgown trailed to the floor; hair hung in limp black tails over my shoulders after a day of not being combed. My face looked haggard, but after only a few seconds of regarding it, my eyes flitted to the reflection of my stomach.
There was nothing out of the ordinary about my figure to the naked eye, but the knowledge was like iron. I had a child growing inside me. A child who, in less than a year from now, I could hold in my arms.
If you make it that long, my mind abruptly reminded me. What if you come of age before then? It won’t be just you who dies, Éva.
I whimpered at that, pressing a hand to my mouth. In the shock and joy of the moment, I’d forgotten all about my impending doom. And how was I ever supposed to escape back to Hungary in this condition? It would only become more noticeable; more difficult, with time. I would have had it hard enough trying to somehow arrange passage for myself prior to this, let alone while pregnant.
And that brought a new weight with it. I looked back at Benjamin, feeling my pain bleed out across my face. How could I possibly abandon him now? This had cemented our bond; made us family.
Fierce determination overcame me. If there was one thing I had to fight for, from this point on, it had to be the new life within me. I had to try and hold out the final transformation for long enough to see that sweet baby into the world. Then, if I were to die here after all, at least they would have each other.
I suddenly heard a gentle tap on the window. It sounded like a branch smacking against the panes, except I knew there were no trees this close to the house. Curiosity bit at me, driving me across the room, even though I already had a sneaking suspicion as to what had caused it. And indeed, when I peered through the drapes, James was there, wings spread behind him.
He gave a silent nod in the direction of the bed, obviously asking whether Benjamin was asleep. I signalled that he was; then held a finger to my lips before unhooking the latch. I moved slowly, terrified of making a noise, but managed it well enough and slipped outside onto the balcony, pulling the window closed behind me.
“You look awful,” James remarked in an undertone. “You need to come with me. Now.”
“What if they catch me?” I insisted, gesturing behind to indicate Benjamin. “He sleeps like the dead, but what about Henry?”
“You honestly think he’d decide to take a random midnight stroll around his son’s bedchamber?”
“I don’t know what he’d do anymore, after seeing him with that sword.”
“Well, don’t worry yourself about it. You can just say you’ve gone to the lavatory.” James extended a hand towards me. “Come. I’ll make sure it’s quick, I promise.”
I threw a hesitant glance at his long white fingers, remembering how tightly they h
ad held me in the darkness of Sefton Park.
But then I let out a shuddering breath and grasped them, letting my body rise off the floor. James flapped his wings, practically dragging me through the air. He kept his eyes fixed ahead, as though deliberately not looking at me.
In just a few minutes, we touched down. I recognised the area from the air as being only a short distance from Norman’s house, yet none of the terraced grandeur was in sight. This was one of the poor areas, where children huddled together in doorways and inebriants stumbled past in mindless wanderings. James once told me he didn’t frequent it often, because of how close it was to me, but he knew that our time was even more limited now I was no longer alone in my room. We would have to make do.
In usual fashion, James hid us in a tiny alleyway. But he didn’t head for the street to strike, as I thought he would. Instead he turned on me, feeling my forehead to gauge my temperature.
“God, you’re weak,” he muttered. “You shouldn’t be this exhausted – it is as though you have gone for twice as long without drinking.”
“I... have not been well,” I said.
“Then you must get some strength.” James drew away from me. “Do you believe you could make the move tonight?”
I shook my head, but not because I felt frail. A firmness crept into my eyes.
“I will not kill them.”
“Oh, so we’re back to this, are we?” growled James, sighing with frustration.
“My turner didn’t go to drink from my neck when he first caught me,” I said, and rolled up my sleeve to expose the first scar he’d left. “And you weren’t going to kill me when you came to me that first night. So why can’t we do the same?”
“Because this is the way I choose to work, and the end result is no different,” he replied shortly. “In regards to when I broke into your room, I had already taken a recent fill. As I’ve told you before, I simply desired a change in taste.
“And in regards to your Izcacus demon; he would have killed you, drained you dry, just as liberally. It just would have taken a lot longer,” James placed horrible emphasis on those last words. “Wouldn’t you rather it done this way: merciful and swift?”
“I would rather you do it,” I snapped, seeing I wasn’t going to win with him. “You gave me a gentle threat, but it is a threat nonetheless, that you would expose me. But I am not the only vampire here. I want you to take responsibility. It is most certainly not all my doing.”
I prepared myself for a snide retort, but was surprised when James simply raised his eyebrows, as though in contemplation. Then he nodded to himself with a small shrug.
“I suppose it is fair enough,” he said. “Stay here.”
I was only too happy to comply as he shot in the direction of the road. Mere seconds later, he returned with a middle-aged man draped over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Then he grasped my wrist, giving me only a moment’s notice to prepare myself before we were back in the air, disguised by a shadow, leaving Toxteth behind. Instead, James headed for the impressive expanse of Lime Street, and arrived on the roof of the vast St George’s Hall.
I glanced around warily, listening hard. I could tell, from sound alone, that there was nobody walking around on street-level; but even if there were, I knew they wouldn’t have been able to see us. We were too high, and the rooftop too extensive around us. I had a mind to think that nobody could find us up here, no matter how long we stayed.
James folded away his wings and instantly lunged, tearing open the man’s throat, drinking deeply. Then he pulled me down beside him and pressed my face to the gash. Screwing my eyes closed in disgust; I pursed my lips and sucked, drawing out the delicious hot blood. As I knew would happen, it brought instant renewal to my aching muscles. I took more than I felt I needed, but still stopped short.
James looked at me expectantly. “That’s it?”
“I’ve had enough.”
“Nonsense. Finish it.”
“No,” I snapped. “I said, I’ve had enough.”
He glowered for a moment; then snarled and quickly performed the deed himself, quickly, so nothing could spill out onto the tiles.
When the wound was dry, he stepped over the body and approached me, looking into my eyes. I held his gaze for a moment before turning away, going to sit closer to the edge. It was still a fair distance from the guttering, but gave me a better view of the streets, and I stared across at the columned facades of the great rich buildings.
“I know you’re a married woman now,” James said, seating himself beside me, “but that in itself denotes the fact that you quarrel with your husband. Not with me.”
I didn’t reply; didn’t even turn to him. So he leant back on his hands, sighing deeply through his nose.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, taking me by surprise with the softness in his voice.
“Nothing,” I muttered, eliciting a snorted laugh from him.
“Let me guess,” he said, “I was right? Aren’t you finding this new life absolutely suffocating?”
I shrugged. “In some respects.”
“I thought so.”
“If this is supposed to be an attack on Benjamin, then stop it right now,” I said tightly, glaring at him. “He’s a better man than you give him credit for.”
“Really?” James smirked. “Well, I have to say, I’m surprised at you. Last time we met, you were hardly this resolute.”
He reached over and picked up some of my hair, twisting it around his finger with a wry smirk. I lowered my head in embarrassment, taking hold of the strand so I could pull it out of reach. James sniggered; then wiggled out of his jacket.
I jumped in shock, but relaxed when he simply draped it around me. Despite myself, I gave a small nod of gratitude and pulled it closed across my chest.
“Éva, I told you that I wouldn’t keep you long,” he said, “but this is not like you, and I demand to know why.”
“You demand?” I repeated. “Didn’t I make myself clear in the park? Nobody owns me. You can’t tell me what to do.”
James chuckled. “God, you are a difficult woman.”
“I should think you’d be used to that by now,” I said, but I still couldn’t stop a grin of my own creeping across my lips. James noticed immediately and tapped them, encouraging me to look at him. His face lingered close to mine, but I made no further move.
I swallowed nervously. “I shouldn’t have been so foolish with you.”
“Sometimes, foolishness is all we have,” he replied with a wicked grin. “And I think you enjoyed it as much as I did.”
“Is that your resolution; how you get by? After decades and decades of living like this?”
“Living is synonymous with surviving, if you give in fully to what demonic existence is. You will likely not meet another demon like me, you know. So many of them let go without a look back: become absolutely fixated on one point in the human life that was stolen from them. They will set up in a cemetery or some other hole, make that their territory, only take a victim every ten years but keep them alive for that long. It’s a waste of time, in my opinion, sitting in a damp crypt, having to bother with all that nonsense. Another reason why I took up a job as a night-policeman is simply for something to do.”
I shot him a puzzled look. This was the most information about himself he had ever given to me, at least in a straightforward way.
Then I noticed, with a jolt in my heart, that one of his splayed arms was resting behind me, hand less than an inch from my hip. I had a desire to shuffle closer to him, but held myself back.
“James, please help me understand you,” I said in a whisper. “I don’t care anymore if you never tell me your true name. But at least tell me something. Who are you? How are you like this?”
He didn’t answer straightaway, staring blankly into the middle-distance. His eyes were soft as they scanned the star-filled heavens, as though trying to pick out words from their maze of twinkling lights. After what seemed like an age, h
e sat forwards, running a hand through his curly hair.
“Alright. I will tell you,” he muttered. “I was born in London, in 1729. I never had a home; it was just me and my brothers. We were urchins, living off scraps and anything we could steal out of an oblivious gentleman’s pocket. I got by until I was nineteen.
“But I was ambushed in a street one night, abducted, knocked out cold. And when I woke up, I was strapped onto a table, in the middle of some dank theatre, well-dressed men all looking down on me as though I was an interesting animal. I soon learned that they were scientists, but at the time, I was too blinded by confusion and fear.
“Then one of them came towards me: an ugly, scarred lunatic. I could tell from his accent when he spoke that he was from the Continent: a German. David Bernstein was his name. He had a white wig on his head, and a syringe of dark liquid in his hand. He put the needle through my neck and forced the stuff into me. It was agonising, but I soon blacked out again. The next time my eyes opened, I was alone, locked in a tiny cell, with only a wooden bench covered with straw to serve as a bed.”
He paused. “The truth came to me soon enough, once I’d convinced myself I was not going mad. The black liquid was venom, stockpiled from some vampire before me. And they were running experiments, trying to discover more about how it worked.”
I stared at him in horror, one hand over my mouth. It suddenly made terrible sense why I’d never seen any kind of scars on his neck to suggest a turning. If he had been subjected to a needle rather than teeth, then no trace of it would have been left.
James lowered his gaze with a dejected expression, running his fingers up and down his thigh as a vague distraction. “There was no daylight in my room; they couldn’t have let any in for it to work,” he carried on. “And when I looked through the bars at the top of my door, I could see others like me: all young people from the streets; youthful and strong, to withstand it, but who wouldn’t be missed.
“Not a week went by without the screams of a poor dog or monkey they had in the theatre, cutting it open while it still lived, to watch how the organs worked before death. But not once did I see another human being, aside from that damn German and his friends, coming to observe me, writing everything down, waiting for the moment when I would change. They gave me only the bare minimum to survive: bread, water, and blood, as and when it became obvious I needed it. Not a word was said to me, neither of kindness or hatred.”
