The Journal of Vincent Du Maurier (Book 1)

by Ambroziak, K. P.

  “Vincent saved me,” she said.

  “Were you alone?”

  “No,” she said. “I had a stepfather—and a sister.”

  He was quiet, though I knew he wondered about her baby. Evelina showed now and her condition was obvious.

  “Vincent’s not the father,” she said.

  “I didn’t want to pry.”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “The father was Marco.”

  “He’s gone?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh no,” she said. “It’s for the best—he’s—he was my stepfather.” Helgado sighed. “After my mother died,” she said. “He took care of me and Lucia.”

  “Lucia?”

  “My sister,” she said.

  “Did your mother die in the plague?”

  “No,” she said. “I guess she was lucky.”

  “So Marco—”

  “He never touched me before,” she said. “I was a lot older when we—”

  “I’m sorry Evie,” he said.

  She sniffled, obviously upset by their conversation. “It’s okay,” she said. “My baby’s the only reason I’m alive.”

  “How so?”

  “If I wasn’t carrying this baby,” she said, “Vincent and the others would’ve … uh.”

  “Others?”

  I stepped into the room to deflect any unwanted truths. Needless to say, the conversation died with my entrance.

  Later. — This evening, when Evelina had gone to her room, I followed her. “You must be careful with our guest,” I said.

  “Why?” She asked. “Don’t you trust him?”

  “I cannot afford to take such chances.”

  She looked at me softly and reached for my hand. “I won’t leave you,” she said. “I promise.”

  She thinks I am jealous. I am not. I am merely being cautious. I know she will not leave me—I would never let her.

  15 November. — Things have been cozy for several days and I itch for Evelina’s blood. I will need to recharge again soon. I have not fed since the nip I took from him the night he arrived. He is a distraction, though, as my curiosity about him fills my thoughts. This afternoon I asked him about his plans.

  “I wasn’t really going to stay,” he said. “But this injury is really holding me up.”

  “Were you heading somewhere in particular after coming here?”

  “No definite plans,” he said.

  “Why did you return to the villa?” I switched my tone to something less interrogative.

  He sat at the dining nook, polishing his machete. He could not know how ineffective his show of intimidation was. “I needed to get something,” he said.

  He was a bit evasive but I avoided conflict and let it drop until Evelina woke from her nap. She was our best referee. If I could have stolen a bite without his knowing, in the meantime, I would have. I would do anything to quell the desire I have for her blood.

  When Evelina was back at his side, she was able to get the answers I could not.

  “What is that?” She asked.

  Helgado had pulled a small paper photograph from his pocket, a rarity even before the plague. Obsolete since 2029, they had been replaced by glass-plated holograms. The photograph was torn but he held it by its edges anyhow.

  “I’ve never seen one,” Evelina said.

  He passed it to her carefully, showing her how to hold it lightly between the tips of her fingers. She exhaled softly before she smiled. “What a beautiful woman!”

  “My mother,” he said. “Papa took that one a few days after I was born.”

  “That’s you,” she said. “Look Vincent!”

  Aloof as usual, I only looked over at the image when she insisted. The woman, his mother I suppose, stood in a trite pose on the front steps of the villa. She held one hand up to her brow to block the sun and the other around the bundle at her chest. I could see the family resemblance since she looked about Helgado’s age when the photo was taken.

  “She left us,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” Evelina’s voice was small but strident. “Did she die?”

  “No,” he said. “She just disappeared one day from our garden.”

  “Without saying goodbye?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I was still a baby. Papa didn’t talk much about it.”

  “So you’ve never met her?”

  “I was a baby. She had trouble, I guess.”

  “Was she sick?” Evelina asked. “Why do you need the picture now?” She gave it back to him, and he studied it again.

  “I couldn’t remember her face,” he said.

  “Do you think she’s still around?” Evelina asked.

  He contemplated the image for a moment. “Yes,” he said. “And I need to see her.”

  “Why?” She asked.

  “I just do,” he said.

  He gave her a sour look, but then seemed to regret it. He patted her on the back of the hand before withdrawing to his father’s chamber for the night. The girl went to bed shortly after.

  16 November. — I slipped out for food this evening once the sun went down.

  “No,” Evelina said when I told her I was going. She was upset at my decision to leave, and I will admit I was rather surprised by the effect it had on her. I was certain she would enjoy some time alone with the boy.

  “You will be safe here,” I said. “With Helgado.” I had already lectured him on watching her in my absence and making sure she was safe.

  “We’ll be fine,” he said. “But how’ll you get past them on your own?”

  The howls have intensified over the last few nights, and the neighborhood is still infested.

  “Same as you,” I said. “I would imagine.”

  Slightly depleted, I convinced myself I had enough strength for a quick run into the village. Evelina needed food and Helgado had told me about a neighbor’s storage shed several streets over.

  “Mr. Rabizzi’s place is white with a black roof and green trellis on the front wall. It’s hard to miss. The shed is in the back, probably still padlocked.”

  He offered me his rucksack, bolt cutters and flashlight. I was not going to need the tools but I took them anyway. Before I left, Evelina stopped me at the door. “Take this please,” she said, shoving a little vial into my hand. Her pale complexion evinced the gift.

  “You must not do this,” I said, returning the vial. “I cannot.”

  I would have relished the taste of her blood again, but that was the problem. Like opiates to an addict, there was no return. I believed I had finally recovered from my fits of desire for her taste—I could not fall for her again.

  “Please!” She pleaded with me softly so the boy could not hear.

  “Keep it for me,” I said. “I will be back.” She looked wretched when I left, but outside the fresh night air cleared me of my empathy. I love the feel of darkness on my skin.

  The bodies that once lay on the front step of the villa had dissolved into a black, tarlike substance. Spread across the cobblestones, the tar acted as a barrier to keep all the others away. I did not stop to examine the substance, but propelled myself over the ooze to reach the other side of it. I noticed a few bloodless wandering across the way and one stuck in a fence further down the hill. I made use of Helgado’s directions and hurried to the shed two streets away. As I turned the second corner, I slipped into the garden on the left and made my way through the hedges at the end.

  Everything went smoothly until I saw the white house with the black roof and green trellis, where a large swarm of bloodless communed on the front lawn as if waiting for me to arrive. I dodged them, tucking into the side yard. I needed to find a way around to the back without crossing the front, so I decided to climb the neighbor’s wall and get onto the roof where I could reach the shed from there.

  A sense of familiarity, similar to the one I experienced the night Helgado arrived, gnawed at my gut. I was not alone, though the horizon offer
ed me nothing but open space and the howls of bloodless. I rushed across the roof, barely touching the peak, as I hopped to the one next to it. When I got to the back of the house, the yard was empty but the swarm in the front was close. I dropped down onto the grass and pulled out the bolt cutters, as I rushed to the shed. I wanted to preserve as much energy as I could, and foregoing the use of my talons would help. The padlock hung on the door intact, if only a little rusted. I was quiet, as I pinched the metal and snapped the lock open.

  The clang of a bell in the distance interrupted me, as the clock in the village square sounded. It was the first time I heard it since our arrival, but the mystery of its clanging did not distract me from my mission. I slipped into the shed, grateful the howls faded, as the swarm moved toward the center of town. I hustled to shove cans and jars of preserves, packages of dried meat and fruit, and bottles of water into the rucksack. When I had filled the bag, I loaded every one of my pockets, and then closed the shed behind me, placing the broken padlock back through the bolt.

  I headed around the side of the house with the heavy rucksack, still able to maneuver my way through the streets efficiently, but when I reached the last leg of my journey up to the villa, I encountered a swarm greater than the one I had dodged on the front lawn. I assumed the bell diverted all of them, but obviously a larger group eschewed the distraction and were now making their way through my very path. The howls escalated when they sensed my presence. I ran despite them, barreling through the herd with all my force, which is when I realized the bloodless were drawn to my own clanging, as the bolt cutters dangled at my side. I ripped the tool from my belt and tossed it away, redoubling my effort to knock down the bloodless, even as they grabbed for me. As I rounded the last corner up the hill, I could see the front steps of the villa and pushed my body beyond its state of depletion, seeing stars before lunging forward and hitting the ground. As though in slow motion, I had tripped over the decayed corpse at my feet, landing prostrate on the concrete.

  I raised my hands to cover my head before the swarm could close in on me. By some turn of fortune, I noticed the spot of tar on the body that had tripped me up, and rolled toward it, ripping the leg from its socket. I held the gooey poison up to the masses, and like sparrows fleeing the hay-man, the bloodless ran in all directions, falling over one another to get away. I picked myself up and raced the last few feet to the villa, flying in through the door and throwing the rucksack down before I could rejoice at my near escape.

  “Thank God,” Evelina said.

  “Where is he?” I did not waste time, wanting to know his secret then and there.

  “In his room,” she said.

  I went down the hall and banged on his door, opening it at the same time. “What did you use?” I asked.

  “What?” He looked at me confused, a feigned expression no doubt. He knew exactly what.

  “What did you use to disable them?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” he said.

  I hate to admit it, but I lost my cool. I reached for his throat and pulled him toward me.

  “Vincent,” Evelina’s voice, deeper than usual, pulled me from my rage. I dropped my hand and stepped back. “Please,” she said. “Please don’t.” She had slipped between us when she saw Helgado puff up his chest. “Don’t fight,” she said to Helgado, knowing she would have a better chance getting him to back down than me. He looked at her and then turned away from the door.

  “Come with me, Vincent,” she said, leading me down the hall to the front room. I do not know why I followed but I suppose her hold on me is stronger than I thought. “You can’t hurt him,” she said. “We need him.”

  I do not need him, I wanted to say, and he is nothing to me and the moment I know his secret I will crush him. But I resisted.

  “You’re exhausted,” she said. “Starving.” She reached for my hand and placed the vial in it again. “Please,” she said. “For me.”

  “I need to be alone,” I said.

  She retreated, locking herself in her room for the night, but only after thanking me for my effort. “Because of you, the baby and I will eat tomorrow.”

  I would give anything to down the tiny vial, or to suck the blood directly from those blushing cheeks. I want it—I need it—but I will not have it.

  Later. — Her blood teases me more with each passing hour and I would love nothing more than to drink every last drop—baby and all. But he is a nuisance. I know he keeps a secret, a solution to deter the bloodless, to destroy them, and unless I can discover it and take it from him, his only use to me is as a donor—a poor replacement for the girl, though an acceptable feed nonetheless.

  Her attachment to him grows and I suspect she is unwilling to part with him. If he decides to leave, she may even want to go with him.

  My heart aches, Byron. I feel heavy and I miss you. I am so tired, fed up with this task. I long to be with you again—an impossibility, I know. You and I have been robbed of the life we were promised the moment I gave you that piece of myself. We are cheated—stripped of everything.

  17 November. — My suspicion is confirmed; he wants to take her with him. I overheard him knock on her door when he thought I was asleep. They could not mask their whispers despite his slipping into her room.

  “Come with me,” he said.

  “I can’t leave Vincent.”

  “I can protect you,” he said. “My strength is back. My shoulder is better.”

  “No,” she said. “I won’t leave without him.”

  “He’s no good for you.”

  “He keeps me safe.”

  “I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” he said. “He leers—like you’re his possession or something.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Something’s not right with him,” he said. “He looks sick, like he’s always starving. Is he anemic or something? He’s so …”

  “So what?”

  “Tired looking,” he said. “He doesn’t sleep much does he?”

  “You don’t know him,” she said. “Besides, he’s just worried for us that’s all.”

  “What about those scars? Did he give you those?”

  “No,” she said. “Just stop it. You don’t know him.”

  “So what,” he said. “I can feel it … in here.”

  “No.”

  “Why is he helping you?” He sounded agitated now. “Does he love you?”

  “It’s not like that,” she said.

  They struggled to keep their voices in whispers.

  “Do you love him?”

  “He made a promise to keep me safe.”

  “To who?”

  “It doesn’t matter. He’s loyal—he’s like a father to me.”

  “Like Marco was?”

  “That’s not fair. You don’t know what we’ve been through. What he’s been through.”

  “We’ve all been through hell.”

  They were silent for a moment.

  “He can’t save you,” he said.

  “And you can?”

  “Yes.”

  “We all have the same chances out there,” she said. “What if you get attacked—what if you die or turn?”

  “What if he gets bit and dies? Or turns?”

  “That’ll never happen.”

  “Oh ya, right,” he said. “He’s invincible—bullshit! He’s just as vulnerable as the rest of us.”

  “You don’t know him.”

  I could hear one of them cross the room and sit on the bed.

  “Evie,” he said. “I love you.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes, Evie. Evie. Evie. I am madly in love with you! You’re so ... beautiful and smart and funny and … ohhhhh, you’ve turned my world upside down! I can’t live without you.”

  “But—”

  “Come with me. Please!”

  His begging made me sick. He was a pathetic boy and I could not believe he thought she would find his pleading attractive.

  “We c
an make a beautiful life together,” he said. “I promise.”

  “How can we make a life in this … world?”

  “I have a secret weapon.”

  “What?”

  “I know how to defeat them.”

  “Who?”

  “The bloodless.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s …” He paused and then shuffled toward the door.

  “What are you doing?” She asked.

  “Just checking.” He went and sat with her on the bed and whispered, “It’s a seed from a plant.” I heard every word of his secret.

  “Why didn’t you tell Vincent about it?”

  “I just told you why. I don’t trust him.”

  “That’s what he wanted to know when he came in,” she said in her full voice.

  “Shush!”

  “But you’ve got to tell—”

  They were silent again and I assumed he had stopped her from speaking the best way he could. I could hear the smack of their kiss and then the springs of the bed creak when she broke the embrace.

  “No,” she said. “Tell me about this plant.”

  He sighed like a petulant child. “I’ve almost run out of it,” he said. “When I was attacked at the fence, my bag was torn and I lost some. I am down to only a few stalks and that’s why I have to leave. I have to get more.”

  “Where?”

  “Not far from here,” he said. “I have a map.”

  “Then why can’t we both come with you.”

  “No,” he said. “We have to go alone.”

  “I don’t understand.” He sighed again. “But Vincent can offer us both protect—”

  “I knew I was going to meet you,” he said. “I knew I’d find you here.”

  “How could you?”

  “The shaman told me.”

  “The what?”

  “Shaman,” he said. “The man of divination I met in the desert.”

  I could not believe he continued to spin his outlandish tales.

  “He’s a Métis tribesman,” he said. “He told me all sorts of things about the future—that’s how I knew I’d meet you. He told me the photograph would lead me to you.”

  “The one of your mother,” she said. “That makes no sense.”

  “Don’t you see,” he said. “That’s why I came here. I was destined to find you.”