Dark Moon

by Jessica Marting

  Of course, when Molly started doing just that, she ended up snatched by a vampire.

  She plucked her handkerchief from the basket of things Edgar had saved from the street and wiped her eyes. Poking through the basket, she couldn’t help but be amazed that he’d known exactly what to save for her. Her clothing could be replaced, but her mother’s hairpins couldn’t, nor could her letters. The handkerchiefs her aunt embroidered for her were irreplaceable as well.

  She sat back down on the bed, letting herself feel the exhaustion of the last weeks pour over her. Even though it was only early afternoon, she was ready for sleep.

  And why shouldn’t I sleep? Kenneth always said that sleeping during the day was a way to avoid one’s problems, and until now Molly agreed. But Kenneth hadn’t known about vampires or that his wife would end up tricked by one. He wouldn’t have known that she would be locked in a trunk for days at a time and find herself guzzling blood after her rescue.

  She hadn’t truly slept in weeks. Taking a rest for a few hours wouldn’t hurt.

  Molly unlaced her borrowed boots and lay back on the bed facing the window, welcoming the warm sunlight filtered through the curtains.

  Chapter Three

  Three days later

  It was nearing twilight when Edgar strode through the nondescript front doors of the Searchers’ Brooklyn-based headquarters. He was there to pick up his much-needed pay, and then he was off to take an overnight shift at the Coney Island Airfield. He was used to staying up all night, and besides, night shift work paid a little better.

  There was another reason for his trip to headquarters tonight: Molly was now gainfully employed by the vampire hunters as a telegraph operator, working the afternoon to evening shifts. She had stayed out of his way since his foolish declaration a few nights ago, and Beth was the one to tell him that she rented a flat with Violet Singer, another Searcher, with an advance on her wages.

  He still wasn’t sure what he would say if he saw her. Part of him wanted to apologize, not for his feelings but for his terrible timing, and another wanted to ask if there was any chance at all for a future together. He was nearing thirty; it was past time to settle down and he wanted to do that with Molly. But he knew neither was likely to be a good idea.

  He had another gift for her this time as well, only it was more practical than romantic. He checked his pocket again and was reassured to feel its smooth surface. He should have given that to her instead of the flowers the day he pulled her out of Agate’s hideaway.

  The Searchers’ headquarters was dimly lit by a mishmash of gas lamps and flickering electric lights, the beginning of a much-needed modernization effort. It was slow-going, Edgar noted, given the pittance vampire hunting paid and the need for more modern communication methods rather than light fixtures. Installing a telegraph office on-site—in secrecy, no less—was a better investment.

  Edgar picked up his wages and made his way to the communications room, heart pounding. What if Molly wasn’t there and he’d fretted for nothing? What if she was there? What if…

  His thoughts ground to a screeching halt when he walked in. Hunched over a stack of telegraph slips at a scarred wooden desk, pencil in hand, was Molly, who paid no notice of him.

  Edgar quietly cleared his throat. She started and looked up, green eyes wide.

  Both seemed to be struck speechless. Edgar broke the silence. “Hello.”

  It took a few more seconds for her to form a response. “I’d ask what you’re doing here, but…” She looked around the room.

  “I work here,” he said, and immediately felt like an idiot.

  She offered him a small smile. “I know. Are you working tonight?”

  “At the airfield. Overnight pay is time and a half.” He summoned his courage and removed his gift from his pocket. “I brought you something.” Seeing her expression shift, he hastily continued. “It’s practical.”

  “Books are practical.”

  He relaxed a little at her words. “So is this.” He held out the small silver crucifix to her.

  “More jewelry?” She raised her eyebrow, and only then did Edgar notice the small brass clockwork beetle pinned to her bodice.

  Well, that was an encouraging sign.

  “Vampires are sensitive to silver and crosses,” he said by way of explanation.

  “Even if I was baptized Episcopalian and haven’t set foot in a church since my wedding day?”

  “It’s the faith behind the power of holy objects over evil that repels vampires, not religion. If that wasn’t the case, I’d be dead several times over by now.”

  She accepted the cross from him, protectively curling her fingers around it. “Thank you.”

  Her gaze held his for a moment. “Do I need anything else?” she asked. “A stake and mallet, maybe? Violet suggested it.”

  “She’s a vampire hunter. She’s being practical, too.”

  Molly flinched slightly as she realized she’d just brought up her new flatmate, and her voice softened. “Edgar, I want you to know that my decision to move in with Violet didn’t have anything to do with you. Your family has been nothing but kind to me since I was kidnapped.”

  He stared at her, knowing that disbelief was written across his face, but didn’t offer a verbal response.

  She corrected herself. “All right, it did. I wasn’t prepared to hear what you said, and I didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t intend to hurt you. I like you very much, Ed.”

  Hope flared in Edgar’s chest, strong and bright.

  “This is a lot to take in,” she said, gesturing around the room. Ink stained her fingertips, and pencil lead was streaked along her right hand.

  “Frank told me my timing was terrible.”

  She paused, searching for words. “It wasn’t ideal.”

  That same hope dangerously flickered, and he nodded, trying to keep his expression neutral.

  “I think I need a little time,” she said. “Is it unfair to ask you to wait for me?”

  “Yes!” Realizing his mistake, he added, “No, I mean. It isn’t unfair to ask me to wait. I’ll do that. Won’t be a problem.”

  She stood up and dusted imaginary lint off her clothes, a dress Edgar recognized as once belonging to Beth. She left a silvery streak of lead across her skirt but didn’t pay it any mind. She walked around the desk, stopping when she was a few inches from Edgar.

  His pulse beat rapidly as the smell of her soap and beneath it, her skin overwhelmed his senses. She leaned in and brushed her lips over his cheek.

  Edgar fought against every impulse he had that told him to kiss her back, to brand her with his own scent, but he stayed still. She’d asked him to wait for her, and he would.

  Still, he allowed himself to take her hands in his own. “What’s next?” he asked.

  She bit her lip. “I suppose we could take the train to Manhattan, take a walk around Central Park, and then share a meal. It’s what respectable couples do.”

  Edgar wasn’t sure he would ever fall into the category of respectable, but Molly did. “What about a hot air balloon trip? The Academy of Flight and the Aviation Authority is hosting a festival next week.”

  “Also a respectable activity.” She moved away from him, and he immediately missed the contact. “I’ll see you soon, Edgar.”

  ****

  After having had a few days to stew over her troubles, Molly felt a little less discomfited about Edgar’s confession, and as she tidied her desk for the evening, she could even admit to being intrigued. More than that, she thought. As she’d told him when he stopped by, she liked him. She respected Edgar, and always felt the same from him. He was someone she could rely on.

  And he would always be one of the most attractive men she’d ever met; an opinion she held since the day she met him. Taller than she was, but then most men were, broad-shouldered, with a thick mop of dark russet hair she always wanted to run her fingers through.

  It was half-past ten when she left the Searchers’ headq
uarters, and it was only a short walk to the flat she now shared with Violet Singer. Her flatmate would be out hunting tonight, although she said earlier in the day that she didn’t expect to see too many vampires. The problem in Brooklyn was mostly under control for the time being according to her. The Searchers were focused on tracking down the oldest and most elusive vampires, like Agate.

  Molly couldn’t help but shudder a little at the thought of him. “Where do they get these names?” she mumbled to herself as she walked along the street. The evening air was brisk for May, and she was glad she’d brought a shawl borrowed from Violet with her.

  She reached into her pocket and felt the crucifix there, reassured by the tiny object. While Brooklyn’s streets were still busy enough so she wasn’t terribly worried about being snatched by a vampire again, she still kept herself on the lookout for anything suspicious.

  As if you would know what to look for. Agate had looked like a perfectly ordinary man, albeit an exceptionally pale one with nearly white hair who dressed in black like he was in mourning, although after that he was rarely dressed. He appeared at her bedroom window, eyes fixed on hers as she got ready for bed. But the oddity of that had been flung from her mind as his thrall took hold.

  The streetlights shone over Brooklyn, hiding a black sky devoid of moon and stars. Molly hated nights like these, and knew the black evening skies would last a few days longer. Dark moons, she remembered. Something her father had told her about. “The moon is sleeping,” he’d said to her when she was a little girl. “In a few days,” he had continued, “It’ll wake up again, and you’ll see a sliver of new moon.”

  Twenty-seven years old and still frightened of the dark. Molly sighed and continued on.

  She wondered what Edgar was up to at the airfield. She paused, not responding when someone bumped into her and mumbled an insult her way.

  She’d told him that a picnic would be a nice way to start their relationship. It wouldn’t exactly be a picnic or particularly respectable to be wandering around a construction site in the middle of the night, but Molly could go there, perhaps share supper with him. Or whatever the meal was called when it was eaten in the middle of the night.

  Smiling to herself, she hailed a steam cab to take her to the railroad station.

  ****

  Molly rarely had reason to travel to Coney Island, and as she walked around she remembered why she avoided it. It was noisy as all get-out even at this late hour, and parts of the midway were still open. Why anyone would want to strap themselves into the ramshackle rides and place their lives in the hands of strangers, she didn’t know, and she wasn’t keen to research it personally.

  The airfield construction area was nearly half a mile from the amusement park itself, and a small, steam-powered train shuttled people back and forth. No one paid any attention to her as she boarded, and she noticed a few other women onboard as well, some carrying lunch pails. She relaxed a fraction. It wouldn’t be unusual for her to show up with a meal for her and Edgar.

  A few shacks had been built on the construction site, selling food and coffee that Molly could smell as soon as the train stopped. The site wasn’t as busy as she was expecting, something she hadn’t considered before making her impromptu journey. Torches offered enough light to see workers’ faces, and Molly was surprised to see more than a few women donned in coveralls, helping to carry heavy wood planks and tools. She should be able to find Edgar.

  A mustachioed man wearing an New York Aviation Authority uniform stopped her before she could make her way to the construction zone. “You lost?”

  His accent was pure Brooklyn, expression friendly despite his greeting, and Molly smiled. “I’m looking for someone.”

  “Which division?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. His name is Edgar Burgess.”

  “Burgess, yeah. I know him. He’s stuck on pipes.” Before Molly could ask where that was or move, he said, “Wait by that stand. You can’t go to pipes wearing those shoes. I’ll get him.” He thumbed in the direction of a food stand. “Who’s looking for him?”

  “Mrs. McKillip.”

  “I’ll bring him to you.”

  “Thank you.” She walked to the shack, took a seat at a rickety wooden table, and waited. It was too dark to read one of the dime novels Edgar had given her, now stowed in her satchel, so she watched the construction site’s bustle. A massive wooden platform had been constructed about a hundred yards away and was crawling with people.

  Molly spied a familiar russet-haired man walking toward her about a quarter of an hour later, surprise across his features. She stood up, surprised to feel her heart swell at the sight.

  “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” Edgar said.

  “Hello to you, too.”

  “What are you doing here?” he asked. “Not that I’m complaining, but nighttime construction sites aren’t the safest places for a lady.”

  “I wanted to see you,” she said. “I thought we could maybe have supper together.” She looked at the shack behind her. “Or whatever.” She sucked in a deep breath, suddenly nervous. “The point is I wanted to see you.” She exhaled, looked around the muddy construction site, and continued. “I don’t think I thought this through, though. You’re clearly busy.”

  “I can stop for supper,” he said. “And I’ll see you home after this. It isn’t safe to be wandering around in the middle of the night.”

  She nodded, and knew he wasn’t talking about pickpockets. Besides, her kidnapping perfectly showed why she wasn’t always safe inside, either. Even though her new home had silver strips hammered into the windowsills and Violet insisted on keeping garlic bulbs nailed to the inside of the front door, Molly still wasn’t totally assured of her complete safety.

  The shack behind them served clam chowder and grilled clams hauled in from Sheepshead Bay, and Molly paid for two bowls of chowder over Edgar’s protests. They sat at one of the rows of tables filled with workers, the noise offered by voices and clanking machinery loud enough so they had to shout to be heard.

  “Two hours!” he said. “I’ll walk you home then.”

  She smiled. “I look forward to it!”

  ****

  It was just after two in the morning when Edgar was able to leave the construction site. Being assigned to pipes was backbreaking work, but it paid the best, and Edgar did well enough that the foreman didn’t mind his early departure.

  He stopped and looked back at the team’s handiwork before walking back across the site to where Molly waited. Working on pipes could mean assembling the massive structures that would transport steam throughout the airfield, or it could refer to sanitation; he’d been working on the former tonight. His arms and back ached from the exertion, but he welcomed it. It meant he’d put in a decent night’s work, and it was nice to have one that didn’t involve staking the undead for once.

  Molly was where he told her to wait, inside one of the makeshift food stands. The electric lighting was spotty and flickered enough to irritate Edgar, but bright enough so anyone coming in or out could be clearly seen. He hadn’t sensed any vampires in the vicinity of the airfield construction—likely because they could sense Searchers, and there were a few of them picking up extra money at Coney Island—but that didn’t mean one of the dumber ones wouldn’t try to make a snack out of someone at any point. It never failed to be cautious.

  Speaking of cautious… Edgar dearly hoped they wouldn’t run into a vampire tonight; he’d left his stake and mallet at home. One of the foremen could easily find them and that would only open the door to questions Edgar wasn’t allowed to answer. Public knowledge of vampires would only lead to hysteria, assuming he wasn’t hauled off to an asylum. Still, he managed to conceal a short length of scrap wood and quickly sharpen it into a point before he left the site to meet Molly.

  An all-night ferry ran between Coney Island and Brooklyn proper, and the boat was half-full despite the late hour. He and Molly stood near the front of the ship, arm-in-
arm, watching the water as the ferry cut through the waves in the light offered by cheap flameless lanterns strung along the railings.

  A sharp ache sprang to his temples, distinctive as a drumbeat. Damn it!

  He looked up, but the sky was cloudless and devoid of starlight. “Ed?” Molly asked, worry in her voice. “What’s wrong?”

  Once upon a time—hell, even a couple of weeks ago—Edgar would have lied and said everything was fine, that he must have heard a dirigible overhead or some other stupid excuse, but not now. Not with Molly.

  “There’s a vampire nearby,” he said, his voice a stage whisper.

  Molly gripped his arm tighter and turned wide, terrified eyes to him. “Where?”

  “Not onboard,” he said. The pain was gone, which meant the vampire was, too. He looked up. “Flying. Some of them can take the form of a bat.”

  “What? Why didn’t you tell me that?”

  “I’d forgotten to,” he said, feeling like an idiot. “There aren’t as many old vampires in New York as there are elsewhere. But yes, they can shapeshift.” He closed his hand over her wrist, eyes fixed on hers. “Molly, I promised you I would keep you safe and I mean it. As soon as the ferry docks, I’ll take you home.”

  “Violet’s out for the night,” she said. He saw a film of tears mist her eyes in the dim light offered by the ferry’s lanterns, and she swallowed. “I don’t want to be alone tonight, Ed.”

  “Then you can come home with me.” He searched the sky again, but didn’t see or sense anything. The vampire was long gone.

  “All right. I’d like that.”

  Despite the danger that might await them when they docked or while they walked along the street, Edgar’s body prickled with awareness at the suggestion in her voice. Was it suggestion? Or was he a lovesick idiot who misinterpreted everything she said?