"Oh, I prayed that I would find it quickly. Just the thought of being caught made me hot and dizzy." Melissa put her hand on her own forehead for effect. "The night stand and bureau seemed a logical place to start, but it weren't there. Not in the armoire, neither."
She paused. Fiona could picture Melissa darting around the room from place to place.
"The miss has such beautiful things. Such pretty dresses and more shoes than I ever seen," she said dreamily, her eyes going to some far off place.
Fiona began to wonder if the chambermaid wasn't a bit soft in the head.
"But it weren't there, neither. I opened boxes, lifted the mattress, and even moved the furniture. It was nowhere to be found."
Fiona had to keep both hands on the book to keep from impatiently slapping the woman.
"While I was looking, I heard a noise from the hall, and I froze. I didn't know what to do. I flattened meself against the wall. I felt like a criminal." Melissa whimpered. "It was footsteps and the closer they came, the harder my heart pounded. So I held me breath."
Fiona was almost amused at the way Melissa had actually held her breath at that juncture in the story, and she waited for her to exhale.
"I thought for sure the miss was coming in, but the footsteps kept going. Thanks be to God."
"Me head pounded and me eyes hurt. I couldn't move for a moment. I looked around to clear me vision, and that's when I saw it. Plain as the nose on me face! Sitting right over there on the bookshelf next to the other books. But this weren't like the other books. It was stuck between Little Women and some fancy-sounding book...Pride and Prejudice, that was it. I suppose it was the perfect hiding place. Who woulda thought to look there? Anyway, I slipped the book in me pocket and got out quick."
Just when Fiona had thought that the tale was finished and had been about to guide Melissa to the door, the chambermaid opened her mouth again, this time with a pained expression.
"I feel terrible, though, taking her private diary. Miss Rose has always been kind to me." She looked down at the money Fiona had given her. "But I surely do appreciate this, miss," she said, holding out her hand, the coins resting in it. She looked around Fiona's austere apartment with a look of puzzlement flashing across her pale features, but Fiona saw her thoughts quickly flit back to her own situation.
"This year is going to be different for me," Melissa had said. "Miss Rose already has everything in the world and her life will go on as usual. With this money, me life will change. Yes, indeed. Thank you kindly, miss." With that and a curtsy, the young woman had finally left Fiona alone with her treasure.
As she watched Rose on the bench across the way, Fiona's fingers traced the small, blue, cloth-covered volume in her pocket. From this book, she had learned everything, all she needed to map out her plan. All she had to do now was to plant the seed that would make Rose fall in love with her. Thanks to Melissa, planting that seed was now possible.
Chapter Three
FIONA SAT IN Washington Square Park almost every day, hoping Rose would come, just so she could look at her. Sometimes, if Fiona concentrated hard enough, she could feel Rose's heart beating. Closing her eyes, Fiona would send out what she called her spirit to touch Rose. This spirit wasn't Fiona's soul, since she no longer had one, but whatever that essence inside her was, she could use it to touch other people's emotions.
Rose's heart would beat rhythmically, rarely ever changing tempo. Except for that first time she had looked up and seen Fiona. At that moment, Rose's heart sped up. Then, as soon as Bridget came to get her, her attention shifted and her heartbeat returned to normal, although her nerves seemed to tighten.
For those few brief moments when she sensed Rose's heart, Fiona felt almost human again, and the idea that she could walk among mortals as one of them rather than an outsider seemed possible. At those moments, she wanted to lift her hood off, tilt her face to the sun, and absorb its warmth. She missed the sunshine.
This vigil took its toll, though. Some days she had to forego it because she was too weak from being out the day before. The sun burned her skin where it was exposed and drained her of energy. Winter or summer, it was simply too hot for her, too bright for her nocturnal eyes, and too intense for the rich mixture of blood pulsing through her veins. She had to be careful.
But if this was what it took to win Rose's love, it was worth it. This was the person she wanted to be with, to share her secrets and rituals with. This was the woman she wanted to spend everlasting life with. If Rose knew how Fiona forced herself to do these dangerous things, would it make her love her?
When night fell, Fiona often returned to the park, knowing that Rose was just a couple of blocks away, inside her home reading, sewing, or playing piano. If Fiona stood very still, she could sense what Rose was reading, see the words in her mind, or hear the notes of Rose's musical selection. If Rose pricked her finger on a needle, Fiona could hear her little gasp, feel her heart quicken, and smell the sweet aroma of her blood. At those moments, she longed for Rose the most. Rose's scent held innocence, loyalty, and, most of all, a desire to be loved.
Fiona would want to go to Rose, take her in her arms, and let her know that she was indeed loved. She wanted so much to remove Rose from her unhappy world and cloak her in safety, joy, and the knowledge that nothing would ever hurt her again.
Fiona would see to it.
After reveling in the echoes and vibrations of Rose's nearby presence, Fiona would move into the dark recesses of the park, searching for someone who could provide her with sustenance. Then, she would go home and rest.
For one hundred fifty-five years, Fiona had existed the only way she could. When the rest of the world worked, ate, and did their daily chores, Fiona slept, revitalizing her body, suspended in time. When others slept and the city was dark and deserted, Fiona was alive with energy, strength, and a powerful thirst. She spent many hours quenching this thirst, which, Fiona came to discover, was not just physical but in the mind as well. The need transformed a seemingly mild-mannered vampire into a ruthless beast, intent on feeding this urge. Night after night, Fiona fed, submitting to the lust that overcame her and savoring the metallic warmth flowing down her throat.
But as the years went by, it lost its appeal. It seemed endless and meaningless. She hadn't thought it possible for the undead to be lonely. Now, after so many years of existing this way, she knew the truth. She was lonelier now than when she'd been mortal. After her last major disappointment--with Elizabeth--she'd heard people talking about the upcoming turn of the century, bringing with it a change in the order of things. Machinery would take over human work and traveling long distances would be done in mere days. But, also, benevolent leaders would take over all the nations of the world and there would be no more war. Something in the stars would bring people together in peace and harmony. Fiona took this as a sign that 1900 would be the year that she would find her beloved. The One.
And so she haunted Washington Square. She had to be careful, because although the square was a park, most of it was open space where activity was visible. Sometimes, she would walk over to Gramercy Park, which was smaller, more closed in, and better covered by trees and shrubbery. There were other places she could go but she had her preferences. Central Park was ideal, with its sprawling grounds and many dark enclaves in which to hide, but it was too far away from Rose. Occasionally, when choices were paltry, she would head over to the Lower East Side, among the tenements, or to the docks for her prey. In those places especially, darkness and questionable activity was part of everyday life and her particular activity was less likely to be noticed. A handful of times, when she was truly desperate, she had resorted to feeding on animals, cows mostly. Times such as those brought back her rage for the one who had embraced her into this life. This unlife. It was because of Susanna that Fiona had to lower herself to barbaric acts, acts that made her feel even worse about the thing she was.
A rustling made Fiona look east. The dark figure of a woman was making its wa
y from the trees and onto the pathway. A prostitute, Fiona surmised. They were the only women who would be in the park at night unescorted. In the canopy of trees, she'd probably left behind her customer buttoning his trousers.
She would have preferred feeding from the man rather than the woman. The woman probably had no alternative to selling her body, and her life was surely difficult enough as it was without being fed upon by a vampire. But the man must have quickly exited the park, since she could not spot him, even with her sensitive eyes.
Fiona slid behind an elm and quietly maneuvered from tree to tree, getting closer to her prey. Stealthily, she closed the gap between herself and the woman.
She'd seen this young woman before. It was obvious from her confident strides that she had walked through this park many times. Fiona sensed her attitude: alert but feeling fairly safe, as long as she stayed out on the open path, where the moonlight shone and where she could hear anyone approaching her. But Fiona made sure she didn't hear a thing before she covered the woman's mouth with her hand and swiftly dragged her back into the trees.
The woman would not know what had happened, or that anything at all had happened to her, until she was found the next morning, dazed but fine. She would not tell anyone about the puncture wounds on her neck and she would not tell the police she had been assaulted. After all, given her profession, they wouldn't care.
AFTER FEEDING, FIONA would often wander the streets of Greenwich Village. To do so was risky because if her victim did complain, the authorities might easily catch up to her. Still, she rarely killed her prey. She only took what she needed, which left her victims dazed and unsure of what had happened. It was only when a vampire could not control itself and completely drained its victim that the prey died. The sensation of human blood entering a vampire's system was so intoxicating that sometimes they were unable to stop.
That was the downfall of this life, Fiona had always thought. The lack of control. It was like being an opium addict...once you started, it was difficult to stop. The community at large and the police did not take kindly to finding citizens exsanguinated and when they did, it became dangerous for her and her fellow creatures of the night. Fiona had worked hard at self control and it came naturally to her now. She knew exactly how long to drink from her victims before it became life-threatening for them. Most of the time, they walked away unscathed.
During these walks, breathing in the scents of whiskey from the bars and manure coating the cobblestones, she thought about her transformation into a vampire, against her will. She had hated Susanna for a long time after the deed was done. Susanna, however, had become a vampire's protege. She had accepted this life willingly, a choice she didn't grant Fiona. In the end, Fiona had returned the favor, offering her no choice in her death.
She'd spent many years trying to understand, then trying to forget the circumstances that led to Susanna's demise. It took time, but Fiona finally managed to accept the memory as just a part of her past. A compromise, perhaps, but enough of one so she that didn't think about it every single day.
Certain things would remind her, though. The anniversary of Susanna's final death always filled her with the memories and disturbing images. But even strolls through a park would bring her back to when she and Susanna were still young, innocent, and blissfully in love. Now, listening to the nocturnal creatures busily hunting and playing in the sanctuary of the park, she recalled seeing Susanna for the first time at the fruit peddler's cart in Camden, where she worked in a tailor's shop as a seamstress while Fiona worked in a milliner's shop. After seeing her there for months, Fiona realized that she couldn't live without her. It didn't take long for her to discover that Susanna felt the same for her, and they moved into a flat together in Knightsbridge.
No one had questioned that Susanna and Fiona shared a home together. At 35 and 32, respectively, they were considered two old maids and it was common for single women with no husbands and no families to live together. For five years, they lived in bliss, or so Fiona thought. Then, one night, Fiona found out that Susanna harbored black desires, beyond anything Fiona could imagine. On that evening, Susanna sat Fiona down on their divan and took her hand.
"Darling, you know I love you and I cherish our life together," Susanna said. "But do you ever wonder if there is more?"
Fiona chuckled. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, do you ever wonder what it would be like to live forever?"
"Doesn't everyone?"
"I'm quite serious." Squeezing Fiona's hand, Susanna moved closer. "I can see to it that we could do that. We could live together forever." Her voice had lowered to a deep tone that Fiona had never heard before. There was a hard look in her eyes, too, that sent shivers up Fiona's spine.
"What are you talking about?"
"I speak of life after death, my love. It is the riddle that mankind has been trying to solve since God created Adam and Eve. How to live forever."
The grip on Fiona's hand was tightening and it felt as if Susanna was squeezing her heart with the other hand. She wasn't sure what Susanna was talking about, but whatever it was, it was wrong, and for the first time in the years they'd spent together, she was afraid.
"I have met someone who has the answer to the riddle, Fiona. And he has entrusted in me that answer. Look." Susanna turned her neck and lowered her starched collar to reveal two puncture wounds. She released Fiona's hand and pulled up her sleeve to reveal her wrist and two more puncture wounds, identical to the ones on her neck.
At first, Fiona was confused. She stared at the marks on Susanna's neck and it struck her, then. They were in London after all, and everyone knew the mysteries of the streets. She'd heard the stories about creatures of the night and beasts of the underworld. She'd even been warned about unnatural beings by one of the older flower ladies who worked by the Thames. Fiona moved backward on the divan, fear icing her veins.
Susanna did not seem fazed that Fiona pulled away. "Sweetheart, we have always talked about being together forever, and now we can be."
Fiona scrambled to her feet and put as much distance as possible between her and the woman she loved, something she never thought she'd do. "That's only an expression. '˜Forever' is supposed to mean a lifetime...a person's lifetime."
"Yes, darling. A lifetime. But a vampire's lifetime is forever and ever." She stood to move closer but stopped when Fiona moved farther away.
"Come, sweetheart. It is not as if we will outlive anyone we love. Neither one of us has family. We have no one. No one but each other."
Fiona ran, but before she could reach the door, Susanna intercepted her and gripped her arms. How had she become so strong? She struggled, but the once gentle hands were like bands of iron.
"Do not be frightened," Susanna said with hints of desperation in her voice. "If you would only stop and consider it for a while, you will realize it is not as bad as it first appears."
She tried to jerk away but Susanna gripped tighter. "I will not let you go. This is already happening to me and I want you to always be by my side. Say you will do it with me."
Fiona pulled one of her hands free and scratched Susanna across the face. She bolted for the door, swallowing sobs and terror, and ran outside. A friend of hers took her in and she didn't see Susanna again for three weeks. Her sleep, however, had been interrupted with images of her, a preternatural smile barely hiding her fangs.
At that point, Fiona would force herself to stop thinking about the past.
Susanna no longer haunted her dreams. But now Rose did, and the visions were far lovelier.
Chapter Four
URSULA LUNDBERG SLOWLY walked around her father's study. Normally forbidden from this room, she snuck in whenever her father was out of the house. She had been banned from the richly decorated room when she had burst in on a conversation with his colleagues one too many times for her father's liking. But the dark maroon leather divans and chairs, heavy oak desk, and miles of books drew her like a flame draws a moth. She loved readin
g and had gone through at least half of the books housed on the multiple levels of shelves.
She had come in to replace a book, The Interpretation of Dreams, a brand new publication by Dr. Sigmund Freud, and pick up a new one. She didn't think her father ever noticed any of the books missing. Although he was usually an avid reader and bought books frequently, he hadn't read a book in a long time. Various newspapers, particularly the financial pages, had occupied his reading time since his business had taken an upturn. Ursula's own library in her room was impressive, but she had gone through each and every book, some more than once. There were titles in her father's library that ached to be read.
Papa had been collecting books since he was a young man and on every subject imaginable. He had a particular fascination with science, and every book written on the subjects of medicine, physiology, and the new concept of psychology could be found on these shelves. Also, there were studies of other cultures and treatises on the human condition.
Ursula had inherited her father's thirst for knowledge and took advantage of every opportunity to quench it.
Some of these books were expensive gifts from her father's clients. The Lundbergs were descended from one of the oldest Norwegian families to settle in New York and they were highly respected in the community. Her parents took this heritage seriously and they enjoyed the prestige that came with it. Rolf Lundberg was often sought out for his opinions, business advice, and invariably, investments and donations. He was an easy-going man who was generous but shrewd. And he made sure that his family wanted for nothing.
"The two things that seem to pass from generation to generation in this family with ease," her papa had told her once, "are money and willfulness. You, my dear, have inherited the latter, in particular."
Ursula understood why he'd said this. Unconcerned with reputation or convention, she systematically rejected everything her headmistress had tried to teach her at boarding school. When men discussed politics or social reform in the library, she would quietly listen outside the door. She would often step into the room and voice her ideas on the subject. At first, the male guests seemed amused by Ursula's attempt at higher thinking and indulged her. But after several of these interruptions, they became irritated with her and grumbled. Her father took her aside one evening. "Darling, I'm afraid I must forbid you from interrupting any more discussions in my study. Or anywhere, for that matter."
Twice Bitten Page 2
