by Trisha Baker
"You mean he slept with those poor young—"
"Meghann!" Charles rebuked sarcastically. "That's hardly subtle. Oh, no. Lord Baldevar had a very different definition of 'entertain.' Sometimes he made them perform homosexual acts with each other—imagine what a shock that would be to a simple peasant girl. Or they would be gang-raped by his guests. Or simply tortured until the sun rose—whatever struck his perverted fancy that particular evening. Some, of course, were discovered by their grief-stricken parents in the morning… bled white."
"But like I said, Simon had had his fun and was ready to sell. Not that many people wanted to buy land in Ireland during the famine years. But he eventually found an earl who wanted to use the land to raise sheep—or so he told Simon. Actually, the earl owed Alcuin a favor, so he bought the land in name only. Once the papers were signed, the place was immediately deeded to Alcuin."
"How did this earl trick Simon?" she asked.
"The entire transaction was done through letters and factors. Not at all unusual for the time. Simon was furious when he discovered that the land had gone to his enemy, but there was nothing he could do about it."
"Why didn't he harm the earl?"
"He was already in Australia when he discovered the ruse. Simon wasn't going to travel all that way for an essentially minor inconvenience."
Charles smiled. "But the people of Ballnamore rejoiced when the sale went through. They figured, rightfully so, that no one could be worse than Simon. Imagine their joy when Alcuin called them up here for a night meeting."
Charles gestured to the long, curving driveway and the wide expanse of land. "Imagine all this space taken up by wooden tables. And imagine each table sagging under the weight of food—eggs, meat, ale, and bread. The townspeople were stunned—particularly when Alcuin informed them that for the people of Ballnamore the Potato Famine was over. There was enough to feed each family and they were to start eating. Then he showed them wagons stuffed with supplies. He said there would never again be hunger in the village—until this famine ended, he would provide each family with food. They never had to repay him either. Alcuin said that there would never be an eviction in Ballnamore again because the town had suffered enough under Simon."
Meghann clapped her hands together. "That's wonderful—I've never heard anything so grand!"
"Yes, Alcuin is quite proud of his work here. It's one of the few times he's been able to completely destroy Simon's intentions."
Meghann began to see why the people of Ballnamore didn't mind the vampire colony. "And since no one ever goes hungry or loses their house—"
"Or isn't given the finest medical care," Charles finished, "they have never revealed to an outsider the secret of the people who occupy the house but never leave it in the daytime. Or the fact that said people never age."
"The finest medical care?" Meghann asked.
"We have a small hospital on the premises," Charles explained. "Equipped with the most up-to-date equipment. We care for the town folk, of course, but we also conduct extensive research and leak our findings to selected mortal doctors." He grinned, and extended his arm to her. "Time to meet Alcuin. Don't be shy, Meghann. He's looking forward to meeting you."
Outside the parlor, Charles hesitated. "Meghann, there's something I didn't tell you." He smiled and pecked her on the cheek. "I don't want to scare you, but you're about to meet some people who may be a little cold. It has nothing to do with you—it's Simon they're leery of. But don't worry—whatever they say or do, remember I'm here for you."
Meghann smiled back. "Well, as long as I have one friend."
Charles opened the double doors to the parlor. It wasn't very well lit—Meghann could barely make out the hooded man on a thronelike chair in the center of the room. He was surrounded by four guards, all of whom were male and were holding swords.
"Is this Baldevar's whore?" one of them growled at Charles.
Meghann started to reply, but Charles grabbed her hand tightly. "This is Meghann O'Neill, who was invited here by our master."
"She's still that bastard's wench," another guard snapped. Coming over to Meghann, he used his substantial height to loom over her. "I don't know what kind of tricks that swine taught you," he hissed at her, "but you try anything to hurt my master and you'll answer to me, harlot."
Meghann raised her head, refusing to be intimidated. "I lived with Simon Baldevar for thirteen years," she told him in the whispery voice she'd learned from Simon. "Do you honestly think your boasts frighten me?"
The hooded man laughed. "Well put, banrion." She could not place his accent at all—it was very queer. What had he called her? It sounded like banreen. He saw her quizzical look and explained. "That's Gaelic for a queen, or a regal, strong woman—which you most certainly are. My speech sounds odd? When I became a vampire, we still spoke Old English—which I doubt you would even recognize as English." He got up and walked over to Meghann and Charles. He took Meghann's hand and shook it firmly. "I am Alcuin, formerly the bishop of Kent. Welcome to my home, child."
"Thank you," she said shyly.
Alcuin asked one of the guards to fetch seats for Meghann and Charles. "I would like the rest of you to leave. Surely, you don't think this lass means to harm me?"
The guard who had snapped at Meghann and Charles came over and bowed his head. "I beg your pardon, miss. But you must understand that your presence threatens our master. Who knows what Lord Baldevar will do when he finds out that we harbor his consort?"
"But I killed Simon," she informed him.
Immediately the entire room went still, and they all gaped at Meghann.
"You have brought us his head?" one of the guards asked eagerly.
Meghann felt the first pangs of apprehension. "Why would I do that?" she asked uneasily.
Alcuin held up his hand to silence the room. He guided Meghann to the seat one of the guards had placed in front of his. "Why don't you tell me what happened?" he asked her gently.
Meghann told him the whole story, from Simon finding her in Rockaway to her leaving him on the roof. "Wouldn't daylight kill him?" she asked.
"Master," one of the guards said in disbelief, "how could he have not told her about the beheading and the heart rituals?"
"Guy," Alcuin said with patience, "use your head. Simon Baldevar has probably not told her anything that would not benefit him in some way. And I am sure that when he transformed her, he saw the possibility that one day she would wish to leave him. Why would he hand her the secret of how to do it?"
Alcuin grasped Meghann's hand. "Banrion, don't be anxious. In all likelihood, from what you tell me, Simon is dead. But my 'guards' are worried because the only ways to be sure a vampire is dead, aside from witnessing daylight killing him, are to cut off the head or cut out the heart and drink its blood."
"You mean he could still be alive?" she cried out, alarmed.
"Don't be upset," Alcuin soothed. "Granted, it sounds like you had more luck than skill that night. But has anyone here had even that much when they dealt with Simon Baldevar?" He glanced around the room, and all were silent. "I believe he is dead. And if he is not, you need not worry. He cannot set foot upon this property—it is protected land."
Meghann looked up at Alcuin, intending to thank him. Instead, she burst into tears.
Alcuin immediately handed her a white cotton handkerchief. "Except for Charles, I would appreciate it if everyone left. This child's grief is private, and I ask you to respect it."
The four guards left, muttering to themselves in discomfort. Alcuin whispered something to Charles, then took Meghann's trembling hands in his warm ones.
"Why do you weep, child?" he asked in a soothing, gentle tone, like she had never heard before.
"It's just you've accepted me and I—" She broke off, sobbing. "I don't deserve it. Sir, you do not know the horrible things I've done!"
"I am not Sir," he said in that same gentle way. "I am Alcuin. You are Catholic, banrion?"
"Yes." She sniffled.
"I am a priest. Would you care to take the sacrament of penance?"
Meghann wanted nothing more than a chance to tell someone all that had happened since meeting Simon. She began as she had been taught: "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. This is my first confession in thirteen years."
As she confessed her sins, the debaucheries, all the innocents killed so she could live, and killing Johnny Devlin, Alcuin never interrupted. Nor did he show any disgust or anger when Meghann described the horrible things she had done.
When she was finally silent, Charles came up to her and handed her a glass of green liquid. Meghann sipped it and started choking from the strong, vile drink.
"Absinthe," Charles told her, "favored drink of Rimbaud, the French poet, and the only alcohol capable of intoxicating a vampire."
"Simon never told me about it," she rasped.
"Lord Baldevar does not care for simple pleasures like alcohol—not when there's a world full of debauchery and evil awaiting his attention."
Alcuin gave her a sugar cube. "Suck on that while you drink," he suggested. He and Charles also drank the absinthe. "If we are going to discuss Simon," Alcuin said to Meghann, "I think we deserve a drink."
"Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked him. "I don't deserve soothing."
"Of course you do—anyone who spent so much time with Simon Baldevar deserves soothing."
"But I chose him," Meghann protested.
Alcuin put his drink down with a large thump. "I cannot believe the way that swine has manipulated you. If I never loathed him before, I most certainly would after hearing your tale. I will not allow you to blame yourself for a situation that was never your fault, Meghann."
When she started to reply, Alcuin grasped her hands again and continued before she could interrupt. "Think back. When did Simon offer to transform you—when you were strong and healthy, or when he'd already bled you to the brink of death?"
"I could have chosen death," she said softly.
"At eighteen? At that age, most children believe they're immortal—death is something they cannot imagine. No, banrion, don't blame yourself. You were frightened and sick." He paused. "Besides, what makes you think it would matter if you had begged Simon to kill you?"
"You think he would have made me a vampire anyway?"
"I am certain of it. Simon has never been swayed by consideration for others when taking what he wants."
"But still"—she looked down at the floor—"what about Johnny?"
Alcuin tilted her chin up—something Simon had done a thousand times, but this time was different. There was nothing possessive in the gesture. "How despicable he is. No one, and I mean no one, can control the blood lust when they first transform. The wonder of it is that you were able to resist for so long—most new vampires would have attacked anyone, even their own mothers, the second they walked through the door."
Alcuin took her hands in a hard grip. "You asked me to hear you as a priest. As a priest, and your mentor if you decide to accept me, here is your penance. It is the same penance I give to all who join my circle. Simon Baldevar made you a vampire. He gave you a need for blood that you had no way of controlling or understanding. Therefore, you are not accountable for anything in the past; you didn't know any better. Now, though, you will devote yourself to understanding your power. With my help, you will learn to control the darkness in your soul and you will never again take a human life to further your own. Furthermore, here is your Act of Contrition. You may never attempt to commit suicide. First, it's a mortal sin. Second, it is a vampire's responsibility to give back what we take from mortals by doing all we can to help them. We must stay alive as long as we can so we can help the most people. Do you accept?"
"What do you mean?" she said in confusion. "Of course I accept. Why wouldn't I?"
Alcuin nodded to Charles. At his nod, Charles flipped on the bright overhead light. When the light came on, Alcuin threw off his hood and Meghann gasped in shock.
Alcuin was horribly deformed. He had no hair or eyebrows, and his skin was completely translucent. Meghann could see all his veins, his gums, and even his skull. His blood teeth were rotted, vicious-looking things that curved past his jawbone.
"I see Simon neglected to mention the different bloodlines," he said dryly. "Do you still wish me to be your mentor?"
At first, his appearance sickened her. But then she looked at his eyes and discovered they were Simon's eyes; they both had the same amber eyes. But where Simon had always reminded her of a hawk, this man had the eyes of a dove. They were filled with things she never saw when she looked at Simon—kindness, a gentle spirit, and a soul completely at peace.
Meghann did not have the words to convey to this man how much his acceptance meant to her, that his appearance meant nothing to her. So she leaned over and kissed his grotesque cheek.
Alcuin put his hand on her forehead and made the sign of the cross. "Banrion, Simon has not left any mark upon your soul."
"Why do you have his eyes?" she asked.
"Very perceptive. It is because I am his uncle."
Meghann gasped. "You're related? But how are you both vampires… Did you make him a vampire?"
"Thankfully, I do not have that grave sin on my soul. No, I was transformed two hundred years before Simon—during the Black Death. The fact that we are both vampires is merely coincidence."
"What was the Black Death like?" she asked with great curiosity.
"It is almost impossible to describe—especially to someone who lives in our modern, relatively disease-free world. Oh, there is still and always will be illness, but I have never seen anything like that plague in all my years upon this earth."
Alcuin gazed into the depths of his glass. "The term Dark Ages is in no way an exaggeration of that time. No knowledge, less than five percent of the population literate, abominable living conditions. My God, Meghann, I believe you or Charles would faint from the odors alone if you could be transported back to that time. If you bathed twice a year, that was considered a great deal. If you could have seen the people—dirt-encrusted, running sores all over their bodies, black rotten teeth by the age of ten. It was a hard, brutal life. Most people were employed in backbreaking physical toil. You lived on a manor that most people, even the nobles, did not stray more than five miles from in their whole life. Or you lived in a town that was wall-to-wall filth. Which is of course where Black Death came from—the vermin."
Alcuin shivered, and wrapped his cloak around his body tightly. Both Meghann and Charles were completely caught up in the tale—it was almost like they were there. "Now into this comes a fierce disease that wipes out whole towns and villages in a matter of days. I hope to God I never see anything like it again. Can you two children who have known penicillin and modern medical care even begin to imagine? Try to picture this. You're both living in a town and suddenly people are stricken ill by a terrible sickness that kills after days of fever and unimaginable agony. I believe even transformation is mild compared to what those afflicted with Black Death suffered. Now you see people die in excruciating torment over and over. Your mother, sister, husband, friend—everyone is sick. You wait in terror. Are you next? Will that awful curse strike you? Let's say it doesn't—still, the world has come to an end. Everyone you know is dead or dying. You flee the town or manor—go to a new place. And discover the Black Death has beaten you there. Everywhere you go there are hideous, black, swollen bodies. There is nowhere to run—chaos and fear rule the earth."
Alcuin took a large drink; Meghann and Charles followed suit. Charles held her hand for reassurance—she squeezed it hard while Alcuin continued. "As a bishop, people looked to me for answers—which I did not have. All I could do was what the other clergy did—the last rites. Sometimes I administered extreme unction to as many as thirty people a day. After a while, I simply said it over whole villages or a heap of bodies about to be burned. Within a year, I was in the same shell-shocked state as everyone around me. I did my duty blindly—I no l
onger even had the strength to question God for allowing this to happen. I didn't even wonder why I wasn't stricken—like many, I wished I would be so I could leave the hell on earth I found myself in."
He broke off, and held his deformed hand up-studying it. "You must understand, everyone was driven insane by the madness we had to live through—and that included vampires. Vampires have superhuman intelligence, but they are limited to the knowledge that exists in the mortal world. For example, a vampire can learn the entire French language in three hours, but first there must be a language for him to learn. So vampires had no idea what was causing the plague—and they were just as paranoid and superstitious as any mortal. Many vampires died during the Black Death because it meant there were precious little mortals left to feed off. They would not dare attack the sick for fear they would be stricken. And so one day, one attacked me. You see my deformities; the kind that attacked me usually kept to itself. But the plague terrorized it. So rather than kill me, in its demented mind, it figured that perhaps God would bless a vampire that was also a priest. Therefore, I would end the whole mess. Or so the poor thing rationalized."
Meghann found her voice again. "I don't understand. Are you saying that besides physical deformities, you also become deranged in your bloodline?"
"Oh, no, banrion. My mind remained sound—the creature that transformed me was insane because of the plague. When I had no more answers as a vampire than a mortal about the plague, it despaired. It begged me to greet the sun with it, but I could not do that. Although I was heartsore and horrified by my new grotesqueries, suicide remained a mortal sin. So I kept living—and I saw the end of the Black Death. I adapted. I learned to never let anyone see my face—that used to be far easier before Mr. Edison. I found other vampires—miserable creatures who despised the blood lust. I have done my best to help them, and I shall continue to do so. I believe God wanted me to be transformed so I could guide vampires. Perhaps that sounds arrogant, but I truly believe that is my purpose."
Meghann and Charles exchanged glances of awe. Charles had never heard Alcuin's entire tale. He looked into his new friend's leaf-green eyes and saw a mirror of his thoughts. They were quite comely, he and Meghann. Would either of them have accepted becoming grossly deformed with such equanimity? Or would it have driven them to the coward's way of suicide?
