Jonathan Barrett Gentleman Vampire (43 page)

That was a very long, long time.

I had a hope, and no more than a hope, that once Nora knew of my situation she would answer by coming herself. That she’d cross all the way from England during the worst months of weather was rather a lot to expect of her though. Not only was the risk and discomfort of a winter crossing bad, but there was also her special condition to consider. Confined to whatever sanctuary she could manage during the day was limiting enough, but the question of how she could feed herself during the voyage was not one I could readily answer, nor did I care to think on it much.

Mine was a fool’s dream. She would not come; it was an impossible expectation. A letter. I would gladly settle for a letter.

But six months . . . damnation, that was an
eternity.

My candle burned low. With everyone asleep and the need to pretend its necessity removed, I blew it out. The gentle silver light of the night sky advanced into the room. It seemed to carry a world of scents to me: earth and plant, wood smoke and stable, sea and shoreline.

Time to sup.

CHAPTER TWO

Up in my room, I quietly changed into clothes more suitable for an outdoor excursion: dark coat, waistcoat and breeches; my plainest shirt; simplest neck cloth; and the older of my two pairs of riding boots. Not that I was planning to give Rolly any exercise—I’d save that pleasure for tomorrow night but boots were more practical for roaming the countryside than shoes.

Not that I planned to do much walking, either.

Leaving my other clothes on the bed for Jericho to see to in the morning, I also left him a note explaining my absence. If he wanted more details he could speak to Elizabeth.

I opened the window, intent on it for my egress from the house, then had second thoughts, remembering my promise to Jericho to be more discreet. No one was in sight down in the yard, but that meant nothing. Though the prospect seemed unlikely, anyone wishing to spy on me could hide himself easily enough, even from my improved vision. I might be able to see as well in the dark as others could during the day, but I had yet to learn how to look through things. There were any number of trees, bushes and buildings offering protection for a determined observer looking for demon-possessed mortals.

Good lord, but I hoped Jericho could successfully repress
that
gossip. Not wishing to add to it, I stood well back from the window before relinquishing my hold on the physical and floating out. Briefly, I sensed the frame loom around me, then felt the tug of the wind drawing my essence forth into the open sky.

If not for my earlier practice, I might have found this experience of traveling blind to be extremely daunting. Indeed, to be without a body in the conventional definition, one might expect to maintain a certain level of confusion for a goodly length of time before mastering such an unusual sensation. I’d adapted remarkably quick, though, and suspected my casual assumption of this ability to be linked to the more obvious inner changes. While a caterpillar has no understanding of flight, after its metamorphosis into a butterfly it has no difficulty taking to the air. A similar gift of understanding must have somehow slipped into my being during my own metamorphosis while in the grave.

Drifting high and far from the house, I gradually assumed enough solidity to allow me to see exactly where I’d gone. As this action lent weight to my form, I lost some height, but not much. I held in place, arms spread wide like wings, and looked in wonder at the gray land below. It reminded me of the time Oliver and I had climbed to the roof of one of the buildings in Cambridge to take in the view. To ourselves, we seemed as aloof as gods from the small people and animals that crept about on the miserable ground beneath us, but in the end could not escape the fact that our means of rising above them, our lonely tower, tied us just as firmly to earth. Now I had no ties at all, except for those of memory, which could easily be set aside. For now, I was a bird or a cloud, with no concern for anything but to enjoy this strange freedom for its own sake.

I soared above the tallest trees, or dipped down to rush between their boughs like a hunting hawk, then down still more to coast just above the fields and pastures. Any wall or fence that presented itself I merely skipped over, smoother and faster than any jump I’d made while on Rolly’s back.

Ah, but most pleasures have their price, and as with any exercise, I found myself growing weary for want of refreshment. A week ago, I might have satisfied my need with wine and a meat pie, but a week ago I was not able to fly. As my means of travel had changed, so had the demands and tastes of my appetite.

Thus far, the army sent to defend the King’s loyal colonists had not completely stripped us of our stock. Some of our horses were pastured close to the house, and those were the ones I usually fed upon. We also had cattle, but I preferred horses, as they were groomed regularly and much cleaner.

I took on more substance to see better and found I’d traveled well to the south and had to circle back again. Just within sight of the house, I swooped low and solidified, my feet touching lightly down on the cropped grass of a small field. The horses dozing at the other end paid me no notice, but their ears flicked in my direction as I walked toward them. The interest became more marked when I reached into a pocket and pulled forth a small apple. Holding it high so they could see it, all I had to do was wait.

Eventually, Desdemona, who had a greedy temperament, decided that she deserved the bribe more than the others and ambled over to take it. While she crunched away on the apple, I got hold of her halter and soothed and stroked her until she went still.

The smooth warmth of her silken coat proclaimed that she was well-cared for and in fine health. What little blood I needed to maintain my own strength she could easily spare with no ill effect. I knelt and felt out one of the surface veins in her near foreleg, brushing at it with eager fingers. My belly twisted in a most pleasurable way, anticipating what was to come. My mouth and tongue were dry, but that would soon be amended.

The corner teeth in my upper jaw had grown longer than the others. An odd sensation, that, but I quite liked it. I liked it even better when I bent over the vein and used them to gently and quickly cut through the flesh.

God, but that rush of red heat was wonderful. It rolled right through me, sating, satisfying, comforting, sweeping away all the dark doubts I’d harbored. This was food in its purest form, as basic as a mother’s milk. How like a suckling infant I felt, too, drinking in incredible, reviving nourishment such as I’d never known before. Consciously known, that is. Our memories of babyhood, of nursing, of that last physical link we have to our mothers is inevitably severed as we outgrow it, but the craving and need for fulfillment is ever with us. Others might strive their whole lives to recover that sweet estate in one form or another, but my own endeavors had apparently ended, if this serene gratification was anything to judge by.

The wounds I’d made were small, and the blood flow gradually ceased. I lapped up the last of it and drew away, giving Desdemona a reassuring pat and a second apple from another pocket. As though nothing had happened or was amiss, her velvet lips plucked up the fruit and she quickly disposed of it as I let myself grow lighter and drifted out of the pasture.

I went solid again on the other side of the fence, leaning on it and breathing in the early morning air. Dawn was not far off, but I had more than enough time to get to the old barn before the rising sun became a problem. I left the fence and struck out over the fields. Not that the novelty of flying had worn off, but I was finding the steady march enjoyable for its own sake. It allowed me to exercise my improved senses, as they were muffled when I ceased to be corporeal. Eyes and ears open, I drank in sights and sounds as eagerly as I’d drunk in Desdemona’s blood, for I craved nourishment for my soul as much as for my body.

Damp grass and leaves underfoot, night birds making their final calls to one another and day birds sleepily rousing, the wind cool on my face, it was as though I were noticing it afresh, like a newborn child. But unlike that imaginary babe, I could identify and appreciate it. Science, philosophy or magic, whatever force had brought me back from the grave taught me to value the beauties of the world anew. Things that I’d once overlooked as commonplace caught my notice; the graceful shape of a branch or the soft pattern of moss on a rock. I wanted to see and touch everything, to know and understand all. I’d been given a second chance to do so; I would not waste it.

Though it was unlikely I’d run into an inconvenient army sentry here on my own land, I took care to be quiet. I’d be able to deal with any trouble easily enough, but there was no point attracting it in the first place.

The worries I’d confided earlier to Elizabeth came back now, for they were not without foundation. The Hessian troops so recently thrust upon us by the rebellion were seeking shelter in every possible hovel. Some were lodged in private homes or had taken over the churches and inns and, along with the English soldiers, stripping the Island of all stock and produce. We’d mostly been spared thus far, but were expecting the worst. Unless General Howe finally decided to take his men and pursue Washington’s rabble across the water to Manhattan island, there wouldn’t be much left for the coming winter.

Of the battle that had taken place last month between those two commanders we’d heard many conflicting tales and hardly knew which to believe. The one common thread woven into them all had to do with the horrific brutality of the Hessians. Their own officers had been shocked by their vicious behavior. Stories came to us of surrendering rebels receiving no quarter, even sorely wounded men were heartlessly run through by bayonets, or shot, or clubbed to death by rifle stocks.

My own contact with them had not been so violent. Indeed, I was treated with a degree of respect by some of the ones staying in Glenbriar for my assistance in capturing two rebels not long past. The fact that I’d later been instrumental in helping the rebels get away had happily escaped notice, so far. But this advantage was small and limited only to those who knew me. It was a wise man who stayed out of their way altogether.

The old barn stood out from the shelter of some trees, though ivy had taken it over and blurred its lines. There had been a stormy night since I’d last been here, and my footprints in the dirt inside the doorway were gone, though the ones deeper within remained. I followed these in to a far corner where a shoulder-high partition had been built out from the wall to make a dim stall. The floor here also retained the marks of my previous occupancy. I added to them, pacing slowly up and down, up and down, waiting for the sun to arrive.

If I hurried, I still had time to hurtle through the sky and make it back to my own room before it was too late. The safety of the house was certainly more attractive to me than spending the day sprawled in this dusty barn, but the comfort I should have drawn from my bed had eluded me since my return. Instead of rest and sleep, I endured endless hours of bad dreams and foul dreads which reminded me of things I’d rather forget. These bouts of darkness left me weary to the bone upon awakening; sometimes it was hours before I could fully shake the fears from my mind.

With each passing day and emerging night, I grew more and more
tired.
Though I could often dismiss it awhile—especially after feeding—I was never truly without it. In odd moments here and there, the weariness dragged at me, as though the earth were trying to draw me back into itself once more, to return me to the grave.

Nora, if I could trust my memory, had not suffered from such continual exhaustion. Occasionally she’d fall prey to a fit of melancholia, but it never lasted long, particularly when we were together. But these instances were hardly different than what I’d seen in others and in myself at the time, brief and transient. My present state was nearly constant and worsening.

Dear God, but I needed
rest.

The events of the evening, of the past week, seemed to crowd one atop the other like bees in a hive, buzzing and darting and imparting a sting or two. I knew I was destined to have a raw time of it for the day. Before my change, such a state of mind had always deprived me of sleep; it would be no different now.

I sat in the darkest corner of the stall and grimly waited for the sun to roll above the horizon.

Soon. Just another moment or two. My limbs were already growing sluggish. No sense in letting myself freeze for the day in an uncomfortable posture. I lay flat, eyes shut, waiting . . . .

. . . waiting. I sat up, certain that I’d heard something, then stopped, still as a stone.

Utter confusion seized me. I could not move or think for some moments, not because of the approaching sunrise, but out of pure shock and disorientation.

I was no longer in the barn.

That realization was the only fact to impress itself upon my mind. Like an unwelcome lodger, it remained there, crowding out other thoughts. I wasted time trying to understand what had happened. In one instant I’d been stretched out for the day on the hard floor, and the next I was on the grass under an open sky.

Someone must have moved me,
I thought. Then I abruptly knew that I had slept the day through. It was sunset, not a dreaded sunrise to which I’d awakened.

After so many days without it, I’d finally achieved
rest.
No bad dreams, no dreams at all, only sweet oblivion.

Thank God.

And my good and wonderful and most sensible sister. No doubt Elizabeth would put on a show of amused smugness for being right, but she would be glad for me.

But how had I come to be outside the barn? Perhaps Jericho had ventured by to check on me and had taken it into his head to shift my location, though why he would do such a thing was beyond imagining. Where—?

Brain working again now that the surprise had passed, I stood and brushed off and looked around. I heard something upon waking, and the noise was still with me. Human noise, human speech.