by Arden, Alys
My entire being ached for comfort. Right then, I wanted nothing more than to feel his strong arms around me again.
Do not cry.
Then I cracked.
Tears began to drip from my eyes. He moved towards me. I didn’t have the will to take another step back, and I knew in that moment I might do something I’d regret later. A squeak of protest came out of my mouth, but he calmly shushed me, moving his bandana to wipe the tears from my cheeks.
My eyes nervously followed his mouth.
The second I prepared to give in to him, he pulled me into his chest and continued to whisper soothingly into my ear. With my face hidden, I couldn’t stop crying. He wrapped his arms even tighter.
In his unlikely embrace, I cried even harder for Brooke, Klara and Alphonse Jones. I cried for their neighbors. I cried for all the displaced people of New Orleans. I cried for the man with the blue eyes and for all the others who had died. I cried for myself, because I had no idea what I was supposed to do about it. Pressed up against him, I could feel the pulse of his heart, and it made me feel safe.
And there we stood until I ran out of tears.
I began to feel lightheaded, again like I was floating.
A breeze brought my mind back to the present. Breeze? I blinked twice to remove the last of my tears and gasped.
Hundreds of pieces of paper were floating in the air around us, slowly spinning in a clockwise turn. It was as if we were standing in the middle of a slow-motion cyclone. Only… we weren’t standing at all. We were levitating four feet from the ground, in the center of this whirlwind of faded music. My heart plummeted with vertigo, while my arms circled tightly around his neck—
“Oh, my God. What the… Am I doing this?”
His eyes opened. He looked down at me with a serene expression, and then up at the ruined leaves of paper dancing through the air around us in a symphony of rustles. He barely managed to whisper:
“No, I’m doing this.”
“It’s beautiful.”
* * *
In the car, neither of us spoke another word about either incident. We were both in too much shock.
I felt him steal a glance. I looked away, out the window, and my stomach clenched into a knot.
My fingers touched my lips. It was just a desperate act of loneliness. Right?
I quickly removed them, but my eyes fell to his hand on the stick shift. I suddenly had this desire to crawl under his arm and tell him all of my secrets. I understood how Adeline must have felt with Cosette and the Monvoisin sisters. I wanted to show him these tricks I had no explanation for.
But I couldn’t move.
We pulled up to the house, and before he could even cut the engine, I jumped out the passenger door and darted for the front gate.
He scurried around the hood of the car. “Adele, I am really sorry about before.”
“Don’t wo—” I started to say, but was cut off by another male voice.
“Always apologizing,” Niccolò said, emerging from our neighbor’s stoop across the street. “Tsk, tsk, tsk.”
“Hey!” I was a too little overenthusiastic for the interruption – and maybe because it was Niccolò. “I was wondering when you would show up.”
“Ciao, bella,” he said quietly and kissed my cheeks, which were now burning.
I turned back to Isaac. “Thanks again for the ride and for making sure the roof didn’t fall on my head. See you later.”
I caught the stunned look on his face as my attention returned to Niccolò with an embarrassing quickness. “Hang on a minute. I’ll be right back.” As I leapt into the house, I felt guilty about the way Isaac and I were parting, but I really couldn’t handle the two of them together.
When I returned a minute later with Niccolò’s jacket, Isaac, of course, was still there, looking peeved – Dr. Jekyll was gone for the night.
“I’m so sorry,” I said to Niccolò, passing him the soft leather jacket, which I may have worn on a couple of extra occasions. “I was so caught up in Ren’s theatrics that night I completely forgot I was wearing it.”
“Nessun problema, bella. It gave me an excuse to come see you.”
Isaac made no effort to hide his contempt for the soft-spoken Italian while he placed my father’s keys into my hand.
“Adele, how is the cut on your face?” Niccolò asked, carefully annunciating each word as he looked dead-on at Isaac. It was the second time he had mentioned the wound but directed the commentary at him. The night of the tour, I didn’t understand why his question had sounded like a threat, but just as my thoughts started to accuse him of being a jerk, the absurdity all came crashing together. The cut on my face, the feathers, the wind, the levitating.
The crow.
Chapter 24 Stockholm Syndrome
(translated from French)
11th April 1728
Secrets are a peculiar thing, Papa. Time after time, I have seen secrets tear people apart. Secrets cause scandal and distrust. But sharing this secret brought us together in such a way that I know I will never doubt our friendship. I trust Cosette, Minette and Lisette Monvoisin with my life.
After my little reveal, Lise told us she had seen a man going into sleeping cabin number seven. “But not just any man,” she said. “The same man we met on our last night in Paris, who asked Cosette about her dowry cassette from the King… The same man who also showed up at the dock the morning of our departure.”
My heart nearly stopped at the thought that my rendezvous with Monsieur Jean-Antoine Cartier had been merely one of many for him, and that perhaps he had visited all the girls readying for this voyage. But when I asked, Lise described him as garish, boisterous, and blond – quite the opposite of my salon escort. Regardless, the parts of their tale identical to mine were certainly enough to cause alarm.
According to their story, on their final night in Paris, the three girls were whisked off to a brothel near the docks immediately after the curtain had fallen to the stage floor.
The King’s mistress had arranged their stay, knowing that no one would find them in such a place. Their voyage was supposed to have been of the utmost secrecy, since their safety depended on it, but somehow the blond man knew of their plans to travel to La Nouvelle-Orléans. He first inquired about purchasing the girls, to which they gave him a very firmno. Then he offered to accompany them and protect them from the dangers of the New World, which the sisters laughed off as absurd, just as I had when made a similar proposal.
Cosette said, “The strangest part of our conversation was not his question, but the way he looked at me when he asked if we would stow him aboard in my cassette. It was as if he was trying to play some kind of mind-trick. That is when Minette realized who he was—”
“Rather, what he was,” corrected Minette.
“I do not understand,” I said. “What was he?”
“A strigoi,” said Minette.
“A child of the night,” whispered Lise.
“Un vampyre,” said Cosette.
Nervous laughter escaped my lips, but then their silent stares made my heart seize. Not at the notion of the existence of vampires, but at the notion of a vampire being aboard this ship with us, in the middle of the ocean, thousands and thousands of leagues from land, from an escape route, from safety.
12th April 1728
I cannot really say the existence of vampires shocks me. How could it, Papa, knowing the secrets that our family keeps? However, this realization has heightened every moment on board the ship. Every creak, every shadow piques my curiosity. This can be extraordinarily unnerving given the constant bob of the ocean causes everything to shift all day and all nightlong. This morning I struggled not to fall asleep in my porridge.
From my table with the DuFrenses, I overheard Cosette asking about the empty chair at their table. When one of the girls casually mentioned the missing girl had woken with seasickness, Cosette sprang out the doorway. I went after her, ignoring Madame DuFrense’s remarks about my disgraceful
behavior.
In sleeping cabin number seven, we found the missing girl, pale as a ghost, shivering, and too nauseous to get out of bed. It was easy to see why her bunkmates had dismissed her symptoms as seasickness.
Cosette removed the scarf from around the girl’s neck and found two perfectly round puncture wounds, already nearly healed. Although the girl claimed to have no recollection of how the wounds came to be, she nervously yanked the scarf back and tied it in place.
Cosette and I ran back to her sisters.
“It’s as we suspected,” she told them. “He’s on board the ship and has been coming out to feed under the cover of darkness.”
13th April 1728
The orphan girl Sophie has died. She never woke from her unconscious state and finally stopped breathing last night. We have had our first casualty, and thus can no longer just wait in a defensive position to be preyed upon like helpless animals. But what can we do to stop a hidden monster who leaves no evidence behind other than his victims?
14th April 1728
This morning, a crewman was found dead at his night post with no visible wounds. A rag was tied around his neck, but I found no reason to remove the fabric and spread panic. I am finding it difficult to sleep, for whenever I close my eyes, I see our monster.
15th April 1728
I am afraid I only have more bad news. Monsieur DuFrense seems to have awoken with the seasickness symptoms. He only has a slight fever, so I hope that he will make a full recovery.
The monster is becoming more arrogant regarding when and where he feeds. He takes members of the crew from the deck, and girls even go missing for periods of time in the middle of the day. It is now more critical than ever for us to execute some sort of quiet retaliation. And, as if these two pieces of news weren’t bad enough, a ship of corsairs was spotted. The crewmen are keeping a careful watch on the pirate ship, while the four of us girls are keeping a careful watch on our silent enemy.
16th April 1728
Dare I say the night was amazing, Papa? He was amazing! The monster ran across the deck in a matter of seconds and then straight up the sail like a spider. We kept to the shadows, getting closer and closer as he leapt across the masts, but then I stopped short and held the girls back— I realized he was very much aware of our presence and that we were chasing him directly to his next victim!
He leapt to the crow’s nest with such delicate ease, the sailor on watch did not even notice: a sailor whose only duty was to be on the lookout for danger! The monster perched on the wooden bucket that held the poor seaman and simply looked down at us. Without saying anything, we understood his message: either we let him down without giving him away, or there would be another burial at sea. He was giving us the choice.
We slowly backed away until the sailor, his predator, and the crow’s nest were all out of sight.
I can’t say I wasn’t tempted to shoot a flame at the monster, but the move would have been far too risky – it might have destroyed the vampire, but it would certainly have killed the watchman too. Was taking the life of one man to save the life of another something I could live with? To save the lives of many? I hope to never know the answer, but still the questions lurk in the back of my mind, and have caused me another sleepless night.
The tired seaman returned unharmed from his post this morning, and you can imagine his shock when I nearly knocked him over with affection.
17th April 1728
Claude DuFrense’s condition continues to worsen, but he tries to stay strong for his wife, who has become absolutely hysterical. Cosette gave me some herbs, which I brew and slip into Martine’s tea to calm her down long enough to sleep.
The corsair ship has now been flanking our vessel for two days, and we can only surmise they are foe rather than friend. The captain is taking the necessary precautions in case there is an attack.
As they prepare the cannons, the sailors swap tales of pirates traveling the open sea in search of booty and a wild romp. The nuns spend the hours calming the other girls, but Cosette, Minette, Lisette, and I have all been too preoccupied with our dark passengers to worry about pirates.
Yes, passengers. Two other girls have awoken with the “seasickness symptoms,” leading us to believe there is more than one vampire aboard the ship. Exactly how many we have no idea, but the number of victims climbs each night, meaning the monsters are growing stronger. Why they have the need to grow stronger with such haste keeps me up tonight, Papa. I can only hope that it is not because they sense our desire for retaliation.
Now, I must try to sleep, for the dawn will bring the confrontation with the pirates.
18th April 1728
Before the sun had a chance to rise, everyone on the ship made preparations for combat, by order of the captain. The crew armed themselves with steel, and the nuns armed themselves with rosary beads between their fingers. The captain did everything he could to create the illusion that we were a force to be reckoned with – all of the King’s daughters were forced to dress as men to make it appear that our crew was larger than it was. I wonder what would have happened if the pirates had known from the start that the cargo he carried was just a few dozen virgin girls rather than a thousand barrels of wine or a hundred chests filled with emeralds? Would they have turned away, or would they have come faster?
If the captain was nervous as the mysterious ship inched closer to the S.S. Gironde, he revealed no signs to us. Neither did his first mate, nor the rest of the crew. Once the enemy closed most of the distance, I was ordered below deck with the DuFrenses. It was not long before I grew embittered, trapped inside with the hysterical Martine and the barely lucid Claude.
What happened next is a blur, Father. And now, it is difficult to keep my fingers from heating the quill as I try to record the story, but I will aim for accuracy:
We heard a loud bang, and then the boat shook. I jumped from the chair, realizing we had been hit by the enemy’s shot. That was enough suspense for me—
I tore through the hallway as more shots were exchanged. Smoke was already filling the narrow passage, making it hard to see and difficult to breathe. I made it out onto the deck and discovered that we had raised the white flag in surrender, but, despite this, the pirates continued to attack. It was just a matter of time before they would invade the ship.
With their hair still hidden beneath borrowed sailor hats, the girls held each other, weeping, while the nuns continued to pray. But it was not God who was going to save us.
As the sun fell toward the horizon, the corsair lowered a small dory full of pirates. They rowed forward to investigate our ship, causing an undercurrent of terror to ripple through the S.S.Gironde. The uncertainty of our future made it difficult to contain my emotions, and every metal object quaked as I walked past.
The dory contained twelve men, if you could call them men. They clambered onto our ship, using hooks and ropes, and landed on the deck with hoots and snarls. Their long, wild hair was tangled with scraps of rag, and they wore mismatched ensembles of sailor’s slops and threads that must once have been fine but were now tattered and salt-stained. I had never seen anything like them, and I think the sight of our group gave them an equal shock.
Mumbling in an undecipherable English dialect, one stepped forward from the pack with a curled lip that revealed only a few rotting teeth and hopped to Lise in a way which suggested he was drunk or insane. He got so close to her face their noses very nearly touched.
We watched in horror as he tore off her cap. “What’ve we got ’ere?” he asked.
She whimpered as her bright blonde locks fell loose.
A sickening smile spread over his face, and then he buried his nose into the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply, ready to lap her up like a starved dog. My shoulders burned like fire as growls of excitement came from his mates, making the other orphans recoil. Captain Vauberci drew his sword, but immediately found four blades touching his throat. I was so outraged that I shook violently, but Cosette managed to rem
ain cool.
“Pardonnez-moi, Monsieur,”she beckoned in a voice as soothing as Aphrodite’s, coaxing the pirate away from her sister. Both relief and guilt washed over Lise’s face as the pirate walked towards the hexing triplet with his pelvis thrust forward – his imminent death being the furthest thing from his mind as he scratched his crotch with great élan.
Getting people to oblige, this is Cosette’s specialty. She can speak or sing or sometimes simply stare at someone, and that is all it takes for them to fall under her spell. When he reached her, the despicable pirate grabbed her bosom. In broad daylight! This appalling display brought our crew’s hands to the hilts of their swords, but despite being assaulted by his fondling hands, Cosette calmed our men with one reassuring look, wanting to prevent a battle, not start one. Even as he ripped open her shirt, still no metal was drawn. The pirate stepped backwards as if to get a better view of his newfound treasure, but one more seductive smile from her gleaming lips and he suddenly became giddy. Her smile held, and his giddiness grew until his feet couldn’t keep up with his fervor. He staggered to one side, dangerously close to the edge of the ship.
“Adieu, mon amour,” she whispered as his seemingly own drunken stupor sent him overboard.
The pirate’s own mates roared with laughter and called him a drunken buffoon. Lise ran to her sister.
“How do you do it? How do you control their minds?” she asked.
“You don’t control their minds, ma fifille, you control their hearts,” Cosette replied quietly as Minette hurried to restore her modesty.
The reunion was cut short when the scuffed boots of the enemy captain hit our deck with a loud thud, settling everyone into silence. The hideous-looking man had a wandering eye and a face like burnt leather. A large red bird rested on his shoulder – the beautiful creature a stark contrast to the villainous group. It broke the tense silence by chirping a song that on any other day would have sounded lovely but today sounded eerie and mocking. As he rounded the ship, examining his new loot, the wind blew open his ragged overcoat, and the startled bird fluttered into the air before gliding to a new perch on Cosette’s shoulder.
