by Gayla Twist
I took the blood, noticing how, when I reached for it, my hand trembled. It seemed somehow obscene to drink Mrs. Denkler’s blood in front of her, so I hurried to my private cabin before gulping down the red nectar. It was still warm from when she’d drained it from her arm.
After the cup was empty, I was lost in a confusing swirl of ecstasy and revulsion. Mrs. Denkler had been our housekeeper my entire life. I had never thought of her in any sort of intimate terms beyond her being an older woman who felt at liberty to scold me if I acted up. But drinking her blood, even if it was from a cup, was somehow so intimate. It made me feel uneasy, like I had accidentally stumbled across her in her bath.
Once I fought passed all the confusing sensations, I felt much better. I was in control of my appetite again. I could face being with mortals and not break out into a sweat, visualizing them with their necks’ laid bare. I felt an extreme amount of gratitude toward Mrs. Denkler. She was more than just a good housekeeper and a loyal servant. She really was part of the Vanderlind family. I wouldn’t forget the gift she had given me.
Chapter 19
Colette
I stayed away from the castle for as long as I could. Not going there had me so distracted that it was a challenge to concentrate on my school work or even carry on a simple conversation. Our final exams for the year were quickly approaching and I wondered how I would ever get through them with my thoughts always straying to the massive gray structure on the other side of town. I couldn’t help but daydream about who would be living there and how they would spend their days. I wondered if they had any children, and if yes, how old were they? I knew it was silly to believe that anyone so wealthy would send their offspring to Tiburon High, but I wasted hours daydreaming about it. I didn’t dare include myself in the world I was creating in my mind. I knew that there were thousands of novels where a young man from a wealthy family falls in love with the lowly shop girl, but I knew better than to believe something so magical would ever happen to someone like me. Still, I found the longer I stayed away from the castle, the more it consumed me. After two weeks, I decided I would have to visit the site again or my grades would start to suffer.
That afternoon, I set out on my bicycle immediately after school. I hoped that the Italian workers had finished their tasks by then and were on a boat back to Italy. I didn’t relish the idea of having more stones thrown at me while men scolded me in a language I did not understand.
As I coasted my bike down the recently paved road, I was stunned to see how complete the castle appeared. If I didn’t know differently, I would have assumed that the Vanderlind Castle had been standing on the shores of the Tiburon since the crusades.
Then I caught sight of more barges on the river. The family’s furniture and personal effects had arrived. Giant crates were being used to unloaded the cargo onto the shore. Men wielding claw hammers and pry bars were opening large crates and carefully removing the contents. Everything had been packed in straw, so there were a dozen women efficiently wiping down each item. Then the contents were being moved into the castle by dozens of men. From a distance it looked like a line of ants hefting away the remnants of a picnic.
The entire process was being orchestrated by an older woman wearing a long gray dress with a high collar. Her dark gray hair was pulled back in an elaborate coil and her hands never stopped moving as she gave orders to each man as he entered the building. I was amazed that she could look at a lamp or a dressing table and know exactly where it belonged. She wasn’t even consulting a clip board. She apparently had the entire contents of the castle memorized.
I stood there for several minutes, just watching the progress and admiring the beautiful furnishings of the Vanderlinds’ home. It was probably the only opportunity I would have to see anything so fine, outside of a museum, so I was doing my best to soak it all in.
The workmen unloaded a very large crate that contained several smaller crates. They were all shaped the same, like long, squat rectangles. When one of the workmen started to apply his pry bar to the contents, the older woman in gray rushed over. I couldn’t hear the conversation, but she directed the workmen to carrying those specific crates into the house unopened.
I couldn’t figure out what their contents could be. They weren’t the right shape or weight to be safes. And even if they were strongboxes of some type, filled with valuables, it wasn’t likely the workmen would have been able to crack them open with all the other people swarming around. I stared after the peculiar crates with keen interest.
When I turned my eyes back to the general crowd of workers, I noticed that the lady in charge of the unpacking was looking directly at me. She had sharp eyes and wore a frown on her lips. I felt immediately embarrassed for being caught gawking. I was being frightfully rude. After all, how would I feel if we moved houses and the new neighbors turned up on the sidewalk to look over all our furnishing?
I began to turn my bike around. It seemed like my days of gazing at the castle were over. Once the Vanderlinds moved in, I couldn’t exactly show up and stare at their house, no matter how much I felt drawn to it. If I did, the family would probably call the sheriff on me.
As I placed a foot on the pedal and began to push down, I heard a voice call out, “Wait there, young lady.”
Turning my head, I saw the woman in charge, marching straight toward me. She did not look pleased.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted, unconsciously rolling the bike a little with my foot to keep some distance between us. “I just liked coming by to watch while they were building the castle. I won’t come by anymore,” I assured her.
“Do you live in this town?” the woman asked, stopping several yards away from me and waving a hand through the air toward the general direction of Tiburon.
“Yes,” I told her, rather hesitantly. “I live in Tiburon.” I wondered if she even knew our town’s name. Something told me she hadn’t bothered to commit it to memory.
“Do you like it here?” she asked. From her appearance and her association with the Hungarian castle, I had expected her to speak with a foreign accent, but besides sounding a little formal, she had none.
“Um... “It wasn’t a question I had given any great consideration. “Yes. I do like it here,” I said, inching my bike a bit further down the recently paved road. I wasn’t comfortable under the woman’s intense gaze.
“And the castle interests you?” she asked, continuing in her questioning.
“Yes,” I admitted. “I think it’s fascinating. But, you don’t have to worry. I won’t come by anymore, now that the family is about to arrive. I promise.” I put a hand to my cheek, my face feeling hot under her scrutiny.
A tight smile curled the corners of the woman’s mouth. “Would you like to work in the castle?” she asked.
“Pardon?” Now she had really caught my attention.
“I asked if you would like to work at the castle,” she said, the smile quickly fading and an edge of impatience creeping into her voice.
After thinking about it a moment, I said, “Yes, I would like to work at the castle. But I’m not sure what I’m qualified to do.”
The woman looked me over from head to toe. “You are very much the kind of young lady I would like to have working at Vanderlind Castle.”
“Thank you,” I told her. “And as it happens, I am looking for work as soon as school lets out for the summer. But I’m not sure of what kind of workers you are hoping to find.”
“You could work as a housemaid,” she said, “I would have to train you, of course. But I’m sure you’ve cleaned house for your mother, or perhaps an elderly neighbor who was ill. Of course, at the castle we have very exacting standards.”
I nodded, my stomach doing a flip. Did this dour-looking woman really mean to offer me a job at the castle that I’d been obsessing over for months? Did she really mean I would get to go inside and look at all the pretty things as I dusted and scrubbed them? I couldn’t imagine any kind of work that I would like better. Tryin
g not to squirm with excitement, I said, “Of course.”
“My name is Mrs. Denkler,” the lady told me. “I’m the housekeeper for the castle and I do all the staff hiring.”
“How do you do?” I said in reply. “I am Colette Gibson. It’s very nice to meet you.”
Mrs. Denkler tilted her head to one side and looked me over some more. “Do you know any other young ladies like you, who might be looking for work as a housemaid?”
“My sister is also looking for a job,” I told her, sounding way too eager. “She was just let go from Zucker’s.” I immediately wished I hadn’t mentioned the general store, so I hastily added, “But that was because Mrs. Zucker’s cousin is taking the job. Not because Lilly isn’t a good worker.”
The castle’s housekeeper raised her eyebrows slightly. “Your sister?” she asked. “Does she look anything like you?”
“Oh, yes,” I told her. “People can always tell we’re sisters. Although she has nicer hair,” I felt the need to say for no good reason, self consciously sliding a hand over my own unruly locks.
“Your hair is lovely,” Mrs. Denkler said. The sun was starting to set and it made her eyes glitter. “You remind me of the Empress Elisabeth, poor child.” For a moment, I thought she pitied me for my wild mane, but then she added, “She was stabbed to death by an anarchist, you know.”
“Oh,” I exclaimed, but then I could think of nothing else to say. I didn’t know who she meant and I wasn’t quite sure what an anarchist was.
“Come by tomorrow,” Mrs. Denkler told me. “You may knock at the door around to the right, closest to the river. Tell whoever lets you in that you have an appointment to see me.”
“It will have to be after school,” I told her. “We haven’t been let out for the summer yet.”
“That’s fine,” Mrs. Denkler said, turning to return to her duties. “Just come by as early as you can. And be sure to bring your sister.”
I practically flew home, I was so excited. After I walked in the door and gave Mama a kiss, she told me that Lilly was in our room. I took the stairs two at a time. I wanted to tell the news to my sister first before we surprised Mama and Papa.
“Lettie!” Lilly exclaimed, leaping up from her bed as soon as I entered the room. “I have wonderful news.”
“You do?” I asked, momentarily thrown off. I was so caught up in my own news it was hard to change gears. “Well, I have news first, and you’re never going to believe it.”
“Let me tell first,” Lilly said. “I’ve been waiting for hours for you to get home.”
She was bubbling with excitement and so was I. I gripped her hands and we both started to giggle. “Okay, you first,” I told her, “but tell it quick because I’m about to burst.”
“We’ve been invited to a dance in Mansfield,” she blurted. “And there’s going to be a swing band and everything.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t exactly sure what she meant by “we’ve” been invited. She was grinning from ear to ear. I didn’t want pour cold water on her excitement, so I hedged for more information by saying, “Walter invited you?”
“No, not exactly,” she said, looking a little sly. “It’s Lev who can get the tickets. But he’s allowed to have four, so he thought it would be fun for the four of us to go.”
“You mean you’re going on a double date with Lev and another girl,” I insisted.
Lilly’s face fell. “Don’t you want to hear a swing band?”
“Sure,” I said with a shrug. “But I can do that on the radio.”
“I mean don’t you want to see and hear a swing band? Lev is a great dancer,” she assured me.
“Right.” I shook my head a little. “I suppose he told you that himself.”
“Come on, Lettie,” she said. “You know Mama and Papa won’t let me go unless you’re with me. Please?”
My sister’s face was aglow with excitement, probably at the thought of Walter holding her in his arms under the guise of dancing. But the thought of Lev Wilson having his arms around me made me cringe. I didn’t care if he was a good dancer; there was just something about him that made me want to run a mile in the opposite direction.
“You have to let me know now,” Lilly insisted, “because Lev needs to know if he should take the tickets.”
It sounded like an evening to dread. “When is it?” I asked.
“Next month,” she told me, beaming with anticipation.
“Doesn’t that leave plenty of time for Lev to find a date with another girl?” I asked. “I mean, aren’t there dozens of young women lining up just hoping he’ll give them the time of day?”
My sister put her hands on her hips and glared at me. “Do you really expect me to be excited by your good news when you act this way?”
“But my news is actually good news,” I insisted.
Chapter 20
Jessie
“Stop being such a prig,” Daniel said. “This will be our last glimpse of culture before we’re lost in the jungles of Borneo.”
I looked at the line of girls, all in various stages of undress with their negligees showing. “I’m not sure I’d refer to a brothel in New York as culture,” I told him in a low voice, so that the girls couldn’t hear. I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.
“At least it’s a Manhattan brothel,” was my brother’s reply. “Just imagine the state of the girls in small town Ohio.” He gave an affected shudder. “I don’t know what Grandfather was thinking. If he was still around, I’d probably try to stake him myself.”
We’d arrived in New York with no more trouble. Mrs. Denkler was sent on ahead to oversee the preparations of the house while the family stayed in New York for a few extra weeks. One evening Daniel asked me to head out to see the sights. I hadn’t realized that by “sights” my brother had meant the seedy underbelly of the city. In his defense, vice was often the only mortal activities that went on in the middle of the night.
“Just choose one, for pity sake,” Daniel snarled. “You don’t have to feed off of her if you don’t want to.”
I didn’t want to feed off of any of the girls. Or, more truthfully, I desperately wanted to suck the life out of every single one of them, but openly admitting that urge was appalling to me.
As expected, New York was infested with vampires. The Vanderlind name carried some weight in undead circles, so we were welcomed to the city with open arms. Everyone was appalled to hear of the fate of our patriarch. There was even some discussion of setting up a search party, or taking revenge on the mortals who had thrown him overboard. But mother insisted that she had seen him with a stake in his chest as he fell over the side. “Otherwise he would have simply flown away,” she pointed out. And to those vampires hot for revenge, she settled them by saying, “I knew my father best and he wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to put his immortality at risk to avenge his own foolishness. He knew the risk he was taking when he let that young man into his cabin.”
There was ample blood available for us to consume, which brought me great relief. I had barely been clinging to the threads of sanity when a porter finally summoned up the nerve to tell me that I must vacate my cabin and leave the ship.
Mrs. Denkler’s generosity had enabled me to save most of the second pint of blood I had concealed in my valise. Before disembarking the ship, I downed the entire bottle so that I would have enough fortitude to make it through customs. When we were offered refreshment at the house where we were to stay, I didn’t ask how the blood had been obtained. I just gulped it down, feeling grateful that I hadn’t done anyone an injury during the crossing. And that I hadn’t ended up alongside Grandfather at the bottom of the Atlantic.
“You’re stalling,” Daniel said, jolting me out of my reverie. “If I’d known you were going to be such a prude, I would have come by myself and left you to rot with Mother’s stuffy friends.”
It was true, our host and hostess were not the most modern of people. But they had been members of the undead for over two hund
red years, so I found it excusable that they hadn’t exactly stayed current with the times. Spending another evening listening to stories about the death of Casanova was quickly losing its appeal. But I would have preferred that to a whore house. I’d never lain with a woman, even though I was as eager as the next seventeen years old fellow. Somehow the thought of a prostitute threw cold water on my desire. They all looked so world weary, even though some of the young women couldn’t have been much older than me. There was a dullness in their eyes that spoke of a numbing of the soul. As a mortal, I had dreamed that my first time would be with my wife, whoever she might be. But I had also dreamed that I would be allowed to marry for love and not to increase the family fortune. Or extend our bloodline.
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Daniel grumbled. Striding over to the group of young women who were putting their wares on display, he plucked a girl out of the line. “Here,” he said, grabbing her by the arm. “She looks about your speed,” he said, shoving her in my direction.
The girl took a few stumbling steps and then fell into my arms. She looked up at me with large, luminous blue eyes and said, “I’m sorry. Pardon me.”
I helped her to her feet, unable to avoid noticing that she was quite lovely, like a pale flower in the moonlight. “It’s not a problem,” I assured her. “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” she said, in a half whisper, blinking rapidly. “And I am happy to go with you. I’m happy to do whatever you ask. But you’ll have to be patient with me, sir, because…” She turned her head away from me to conceal her embarrassment and shame. “This is my first time,” she said in a voice that carried a small tremble.
My first impulse was to protect her. I wanted to take her in my arms and fly away from there to someplace safe and clean. But then she leaned into me, as if a little unsure on her feet, placing a hand on my chest. I could smell the men on her. And not just from a night of customers, but days and days of sweaty sailors and straying husbands climbing on top of her and partaking of the service she provided. The main room of the bordello was illuminated by only one lamp and that light was covered with a red scarf. It was intended to look like part of the atmosphere, but I suspected it was mostly to make the girls appear a little younger and a little less worn than they would in the daylight.
