The Journal of Vincent Du Maurier Trilogy (Books 1, 2, 3) (35 page)

“We’re special, you know?” She said. “We don’t live
like the others.”

I kept silent, knowing she would reveal more. She
seemed to awake in a loquacious mood, almost as if she were bursting to speak.

“We’ve been chosen to care for the baby because
we’re…” She sipped the wine again and sighed. “We’re real,” she whispered.

I did not know who
we
were, or what their being
real
meant.

“I can’t say more,” she said. “But I’m just grateful
to be here, believe me.”

I leaned forward and led the cup to her lips again.
She still looked peaked and I wanted her to recover. She had others to feed.

“Do you nourish those who come to the den?” I asked.

Her eyes grew wide. “Absolutely not,” she said. “She
uses the others for the den.”

“The others?”

“The other group of donors, I mean,” she said. “As I
said, we’re special because we care for the child.”

I knew she was lying, but I did not call her on it.
My intention was to ingratiate myself with her, to convince her to do my
bidding. “Do you feed many on the ship?”

“Only a handful,” she said. “The Empress does not
feed on me, but drinks Lulu’s blood. She’s … she also takes care of the child.”

“Am I free to feed on you whenever I please?” I
asked.

“Yes,” she said. “I am yours.”

“Good,” I said. “And what about my—companion?”
I could not think of another way to refer to Evelina; besides, if she was not
my companion, she was still mine.

“The novice?” She asked.

“Evelina,” I said.

“Of course,” she said. “I’m more than happy to give
to her, especially since I feel like she’s given me so much in return.
I—I …” The girl sniffed and bit her bottom lip. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“I’m attached to her for other reasons.”

“The child,” I said. “You have made her yours,
then?” She looked frightened to confess but I reached out to caress her hand
and said, “She needs someone to care for her, as does her mother.”

“Then, I’m committed to both of them,” she said.
“I’ll go to the novice as soon as I’ve fed. Should I tell her you’ve sent me?”

“Not just yet,” I said.

I was glad to use the girl’s attachment to Evelina’s
baby as a way to bond the two. I wanted her to submit to Evelina so she and I
could continue our communion through the donor. If I could not drink Evelina’s
blood, I would consume the same draft as her, forming a new bond—the
blood bond we would come to share.

“I must go, then,” she said. “Will you take me
back?”

I nodded and offered her my hand. Her warm touch
soured me, as I recalled the feel of Evelina’s skin.

I cannot let it go yet, Byron. I cannot let her go
and I despise myself for it. She has seeped so profoundly into my bones that I
cannot shake her loose, though I try from one moment to the next.

19 December
— Though I cannot
know the exact date, I mark the days as they pass. It seems we have been on the
ship longer, for so much has transpired, but it has not been more than a day
since she woke in my arms. I have much to record and must temper my excitement.
All manner of things happen at once here, and yet I am still at a loss about
how to proceed. Complicated, Byron—the matter is most complicated. Could
you have sensed Evelina’s importance as she sat with you in your chamber in the
cathedral? Did you know who she would become? Perhaps she is the reason you
gave up. I cannot know and your notes offer me nothing. From the beginning,
then, I will recount the details of what seems like the most significant event
of my long life.

It had been hours since I visited the Empress with
her progeny, but she sent for me again, this time sending Youlan to fetch me.

“She wants to discuss your payment,” she said. “She
thinks she’s found an arrangement that will suit you both.”

I did not doubt it, shrewd as she was, though she
could not manipulate me. I can stall as long as it takes, waiting for her to
relinquish the novice.

“Are you feeding well?” The Empress asked as soon as
we had greeted one another with her formal nod. She was married to past
traditions, and though I found her coarse, I admired that aspect of her. She
was fiercely rooted to her maker’s ancient Chinese line. The Great Xing Fu had
made her quite the progeny.

“Yes,” I said. “Quite well.”

“And I’ve heard you do not visit the den,” she said.

“I prefer the privacy of my cabin,” I said. “Is that
a problem for you?”

“Of course not,” she said through clenched teeth.
The Empress could not wear a mask with me; I read her without effort. She took
a third cigarette from her silver case and stuck it in her whalebone holder,
setting it afire and smoking it with one inhale. “Cigarette?” She knew I would
refuse. “I have said you are welcome to any of the donors since you’ve more
than earned your place here.”

I sat down on the throne across from her daybed. She
paced the cabin slowly, as she pretended to contemplate my reward.

“How is your progeny faring?” I asked.

She furrowed her brow and said, “You haven’t seen
her?”

“Not since passing her off to Peter,” I said. “Who
seems the best choice to groom her. Do you not agree?”

She drew in a long breath, almost as if fending off
boredom. She had no idea I tested her, wanting to discover how much the novice
meant to her.

“The preacher’s a fine choice,” she said. “But I may
make a change after I’ve seen her again.”

“You have heard about the incident in the ring,
then?” I asked.

“Of course,” she said. “Foolish act. She lacks
discipline.” She tapped her tongue on the roof of her mouth and used one of her
claws to scratch her head. “Humph,” she said with a small growl. “She will be
properly trained nevertheless. She needs to be ready.”

“Ready?” I asked.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about,” she said.
“I’ll deal with my progeny. Now, to your payment. What am I giving you?”

“I am still undecided,” I said. “I have yet to make
plans, and until I know where I am headed, I do not know what I will need. Can
I take a little more time?”

“Of course,” she said. “I won’t be upset if you
decide to stay with us and travel back west.”

“You are leaving Europe?”

“I have business in the northern region on the
sunken continent,” she said.

“America?” I masked my interest about her excursion,
though I was genuinely curious how the world was faring over there.

“Don’t you wonder where my donors come from?” She
asked.

“Not particularly,” I said, though it was a lie.

“Humph,” she said. “Well, if you want to see the
region, we’ll be heading to the Nortrak in a few days.”

She excused herself, telling me she had another
meeting to attend, and ushered me out of her cabin. I left with an auspicious
feeling that faded as I went topside.

Up on the deck, I basked in the morning sun. The air
was cool on the bay, and the stench of Vlad’s inferno had drifted out to sea. I
walked the perimeter, recalling the few days ago when I did the same on the
wall of my hill town. The oasis I had built did not last for long, and I wondered
if it had ever stood a chance. Could I have been so lucky as to fend off the
bloodless with my plants? The world is darker now. The hope I had clutched is
dead. The dream of Evelina is dead. The life I had lived is dead.

I climbed one of the radio towers and scanned the
trees along the water’s edge. They were peaceful, not a sound stirring for
miles. It seemed odd all the bloodless had gone—Rangu and Veronica and
Stephen had gone—Wallach had gone. Surely, they were hidden there somewhere,
waiting, willing Cixi’s humans to shore. They must have smelled the ship’s
cargo. I feared the water, but did not feel the same urgency I had once upon a
time behind my walls.

The ferryman carted another group of eager vampires
to the den, and I could see only six in the little ship. Most of them were
probably finding it difficult to acquire the art that is already hers. I did
not feel sorry for them, though I could have. Sentimentality for my kind was
quickly drying up since coming aboard. I had never been surrounded by so many
vampires at once. They were lurid creatures, especially when together.

I waited for Zhi on the deck near the entrance
ladder, but paid no attention to the vampires who boarded.

“The novice,” he said in his native tongue. One was
forced to speak Mandarin with Zhi.

“You have chosen for her?” I asked, knowing he had.

“The novice will train with Sibi,” he said.

“Sibi will not do,” I said. “She is not skilled
enough to train a novice.”

“Sibi is an expert in many ways. She can teach the
novice the basics.”

Evelina needed to learn more than the basics. The
ship had already proved a hostile environment for her. Even if she came from
the venomline of the Great Xing Fu, her maker was not the powerhouse she
thought she was. “She is in danger,” I said.

“How can I stop that? She can’t hide from danger,”
he said. “She must learn to face it. Her maker expects it of her.”

“She needs to be prepared,” I said. “Peter will
obviously not do and the one you have chosen is too fickle. Suggest another.”

He picked his teeth with his pinky claw and
tsk-tsked, and then said, “Do you know the Hummingbird?”

“Take me to him,” I said.

“I must feed first,” he said. “Ferry makes me
hungry.” He slipped in through the hatch and I followed. We split when he
headed for the den and I for my redhead. I was perturbed when she was occupied
and could not serve me, but Gia was available and I suffered her instead. I
brought her back to my cabin, as I had done the first time, but before I could
taste her she said, “Do you want me to be yours?”

I wished to silence her, but her voice haunted me.
She sounded like Evelina, though I had not noticed the first time. “Tell me
about the child,” I said. “Is she well?”

“She cries a lot but Muriel knows how to soothe
her,” she said. “Empress Cixi added another to our team—a den
donor—she’s called Nan and usually takes the child to see the Empress. We
don’t know if she’s—”

“May I feed?” I asked.

She nodded eagerly, and as I approached her on the
berth, she whispered, “Make me yours.” I hesitated and pulled away.

“Why do you want to be mine?” I asked.

She blushed and my venom curdled. For the first
time, I desired to taste her, wanting to draw her in as I had done with
Evelina. “Ask me to feed on you,” I said. The girl was silent until I kneeled
in front of her and bore into her gaze. “Ask me to feed on you.”

“Feed on me,” she said with her small voice, forced
and strident. “Feed on me,” she repeated.

“Ask me to make you mine,” I said.

I held her in the palm of my hand, as she begged me
again and again to make her mine. Her yearning gave me a slight thrill, even if
it was forced. But as much as I tried to make her sound like Evelina, feel like
Evelina, be Evelina, she could not. I dropped my fangs and bit her as she
continued to beg me to feed on her and make her mine, speaking the mantra in
her hypnotic state.

At first I thought it was the high that made me hear
the sparrow, like I had gone into my own head, but I could still hear the
begging girl and the frequency seemed to be coming from right outside my cabin.
The vampire was at my door, and I pushed the girl away to listen more intently.
The sparrow sounded with an anxious call; I closed my eyes, on the edge of
anticipation, as I contemplated opening the door. When I had decided to reveal
my counterpart, her signal peaked and her voice spoke out. “Vincent,” she said
from the other side of the metal bulkhead.

I looked back at the girl in a swoon on my berth,
but she was silent. The voice in the passageway spoke my name again. I thought
desperation fooled me, making me think the voice I heard was Evelina’s. I
faltered, as I contemplated revealing my truth, embracing fear for the first
time and letting it roam freely. It could not be—she could not
be—the one, I thought. How is it possible?

When the signal cut abruptly, I thought she had
gone. The fear of losing her was greater than that of revealing her, and I
raced to open the door. I dropped to the deck when I saw my angel of salvation
crumpled on the metal boards. She was unconscious and I pulled her up into my
arms, as I have always done. The act is as natural to me as sinking my fangs
into a throbbing vein or digging my talons into a jugular. Holding Evelina in
my arms is innate, instinctive, and now I know why. She is the one, Byron. She
usurps your place as my totem.

***

Entry 3
(cont.)

I’ve heard it said that when one is in some kind of
accident, they’ll see everything slow down to an excruciatingly drawn-out pace.
I don’t know if that’s what I experienced in the ring, but as the bearish
vampire reached out for my neck, I witnessed the swiftest hand block his arm,
and then another slice his head clean off his neck. I didn’t hear the sparrow
until I looked up to find my hero glaring down at me. I welcomed the renewed
sting of fettered emotion, as desire locked itself inside me at the sight of
Vincent, standing over me with his talons still wet from the sludge of the
decapitated head.

“Are you all right, Evelina?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Get up.”

I obeyed and pulled my heavy body into an upright
position. I wasn’t aware that I’d been injured in the scuffle but one of my
arms was limp. It hung loosely from its socket. There was no pain, and the
sight of the injury didn’t faze me. I knew nothing of our bodies then, how they
healed themselves rather efficiently, but still I ignored my physical state
since all I could think about was my hero. He’d come for me—he’d saved me
yet again.

Peter and Zhi appeared and Vincent expressed his
disapproval, although I don’t actually know what was said between them since they
conversed in Mandarin. “Tao meia weitze oahow wa bei,” Vincent said, speaking
calmly. When Zhi swatted and hissed in response, I feared the confrontation.

“Ah, I see,” Peter said. “We must go.”

“No,” I said, wanting to stay with Vincent.

Peter forced his signal into my head, shutting all
the others out, even Vincent’s. The murmur escalated, and soon his coo pierced
me with a shriek. When I looked at him, he narrowed his eyes and motioned for
me to follow. I didn’t want to leave, especially since Zhi had unleashed his
talons, but Peter insisted, pulling on my injured arm. If his frequency hadn’t
hacked into my mind to commandeer my gift, I would’ve heard the roar of the
vampires, entranced by the match about to take place in the pit. I looked back
at my beloved, unruffled despite Zhi’s threatening posture.

“You’ve certainly made a mess of things,” Peter
said, as he led me away from the fray. It was difficult to concentrate, as
vampires rushed toward us in the passageway, passing by to get a seat for the
spectacle.

“What’s going to happen?” I didn’t know if Peter
could hear me.

“You don’t need to know,” he said. “But Vincent’s
not in danger. Zhi’s the one who needs to worry.” I felt some relief at that,
but wanted to see it still. “You must feed,” Peter said. “Your arm won’t heal
without blood.”

He didn’t bring me to the den this time, but
escorted me down to his small compartment behind the engine room. I didn’t ask
why since one didn’t need to voice everything with Peter. He’d tell me why if
he wanted to.

“It’ll be the same donor as last time,” he said.

“The strawberry blond?”

He gave me a strange look. “No, Hal.”

“Who’s Hal?”

Peter smiled. “They have names, Evelina, despite
their role here.”

Having been a donor, I understood the sacrifice it
entailed.

“I didn’t mean to scold you,” Peter said. “I know
you can empathize, but things aren’t quite what they seem.”

“I don’t understand,” I said.

Peter crossed the deck and stood next to the door.

“Ah,” he said. “Of course you don’t, but your maker
may remedy that when she’s ready. In the meantime, let me say that Hal is from
America.” I could barely process the questions I wanted to pose. “I see,” Peter
said. “You know about America.”

“Not particularly,” I said. I’d studied its downfall
in my history class, but we barely touched on the False Escape or the Water
Rebellion. America had been sold to us as a place of myth, an empire that had
been a world power once upon a time but had fallen onto a path of despair in
recent decades. I could only imagine what kind of havoc the plague had reaped.

“Your donor is from a special facility in the
Nortrak—some regions of the continent were sealed off beforehand,” he
said.

I must have offered him the most blank expression
since he didn’t even attempt to read my mind. “Your maker is well connected,
Evelina,” he said. “Which speaks to the power of Xing Fu’s venomline.”

I couldn’t process the idea of a functioning society
in America, one I’d imagined once upon a time. I wondered if Europe saw the
worst of the pandemic.

“No,” Peter said, answering a question I hadn’t
asked. “It’s everywhere, but forget I mentioned it. It’s not something you need
to be concerned about. You’ve got plenty on your plate at the moment, and
healing your arm is the first of those things. Sit.”

I obeyed, though the haze of my newly injured
condition made Peter seem farther from me than he was. I could barely hear his
frequency, let alone his voice. My arm hadn’t hurt in the beginning, but now it
felt like it was on fire.

“Oh, dear Evie,” Peter said. “Hang on—he
should be here soon. In the meantime, let me set it?”

If I’d known he meant let me increase your
discomfort a hundredfold, I would’ve refused. Peter took my loose arm and
yanked it, pulling it farther from the socket. A low guttural growl escaped my
lips, and I whacked Peter in the head with my free arm. I didn’t mean to lash
out but the pain he induced prodded me like a hot poker on a steer’s backside.

“Oh, I see what I’ve done,” he said. “Let’s try
again.” He renewed his effort, unaffected by my slap, and yanked on the
dislocated arm a second time. I growled more loudly and rammed my fist into his
jowl, knocking his chin sideways. He released his iron fangs, and then cringed
when he realized it. He pulled them back up and laughed with a soulful chuckle.
“Not quite,” he said. “But we’ll get you there.”

When he went for my dislocated arm a third time, I
shifted my body sideways to block him. “I don’t think so,” I said. “Unless
you’re going to put it back in place, it’s off limits.”

“It’ll set itself once the donor arrives,” he said.
I didn’t doubt the drink would heal my injury. “Oh, not only the drink,” he
said. “The promise alone will reset the arm. Watch.” He got up and unlocked the
door for Hal, who was just on the other side. He wasn’t alone, but a towering
blond bodyguard escorted him. Humans didn’t travel through the ship’s
passageways unaccompanied.

Hal smiled at me, and entered without his vampire
companion. I barely acknowledged the donor, taken with the verity of Peter’s
prediction. The moment I saw the hue of the man’s skin, my dislocated arm
thrust itself upwards, finding its way into the socket again. I barely had time
to notice the pleasure of my relief, for Peter led the man to the berth and
pushed him on me, where my fangs did the only thing they were good for then. I
drank Hal’s blood to a nauseous stupor, as he lay back on the berth. Only when
Peter forced me from him, did I let my fangs retract, still dripping with his blood.
I soon fell beside him, writhing in the ecstasy of my homespun cure.

“Enjoy,” Peter said, his voice fading, as I dropped
into oblivion.

I don’t know how long I was out but when I opened my
eyes, Peter was at my side. I could barely carry on a conversation, high as I
was, but he read my mind.

“Vincent is fine,” he said.

“My paramooooor.” I slurred my speech and giggled at
the sound of my voice. I barely recognized it, rich and deep like Elizabeth’s.

“It’s the blood,” Peter said. “It’ll change you in
all manner of ways.” He pointed to my arm. “Better?”

“Good as new,” I said.

“Stronger than new, I’ll bet.” He smiled in his
charitable way and then seemed taken with something, as I tried to recall what
it was I was just thinking. “Who’s Elizabeth?” He asked.

I hadn’t mentioned her but knew I must have thought
of her at some point. Aha, the voice, yes, my voice was like hers. I pictured
the vampire in my mind.

“She’s—she’s beautiful,” Peter said.

But just as I’d turned back to greet the dead, I
recalled her as I’d last seen her, chipped and dissolved to a pile of salt,
lying in a mound of dust on the villa’s floor. The corners of my eyes tightened
again and my stomach burned.

“I see,” Peter said. “Such a shame. For a moment, I
thought—never mind.”

“What?”

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Never mind. Shall we?” He
motioned for me to get up off the berth, which is when I noticed Hal was gone.
“Once you were finished, I sent him back with his escort.”

“I didn’t acknowledge him, did I?”

“There’s no need,” Peter said. “He’s here to serve
you, and he knows that. They come aboard willingly.”

“But why?” I thought about the perversion of sucking
his blood without any regard to him as a person. I’d complied with Vincent, but
only because he could keep me safe, and I’d grown attached to him over time.
When he rescued us in the trattoria, I remember the sense of relief I felt at
seeing a real man—strong, capable, decent. He exuded those qualities and
I would’ve done anything to be in his care. I think that’s also what drew me to
Byron. He was kind and capable and I could see the love between him and
Vincent.

“Who’s Byron?”

“Damn,” I said. “You really should know when private
thoughts are private.”

“Forgive me, Evelina,” Peter said. “I just, well, I
recognized the vampire you call Byron. I’m just not certain how. Is he old?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “But he’s gone now.”

“Ah, I see.”

“He was Vincent’s—”

Peter put up a hand. “I already know,” he said with
a smile. “Let me answer your original question as best I can. The situation
with the donors is more complicated than it seems, which is something your
maker may choose to share with you if you gain her trust. But know
this—they are not all here by choice.”

“Some are captives?”

“Not captives,” he said. “Again, it’s complicated,
but from what I’ve gathered, some of the humans on the ship seem to be made for
their role here.”

Peter emphasized the word
made
, as if it were loaded. “Made?”

“I only know what I know by parsing bits and
pieces,” he said. “My gift has a mind of its own, if you know what I mean.”

“You learn things you’re not supposed to?” I knew
exactly what he meant, having been the object of his gift’s despotic reign
since meeting.

“I imagine your maker will let you in on her secret
at some point,” he said. “Once you’ve earned her trust, you may end up usurping
her closest vampire.”

“Tell me about my maker,” I said.

“She was transfigured in the early twentieth
century,” Peter said. “An older one—not as ancient as Vincent mind
you—chose her as disciple to the surprise of many. Your venomline is
esteemed.”

“Is that what makes her so powerful? How she can
rule a ship of vampires who seem eager to bend at her will?”

“She has blood,” Peter said. “Her ability to supply
can’t be discounted.”

“But she’s driven by personal interest,” I said.

“Aren’t we all?” Peter grinned. “Listen, there’s
much to learn about our history, our kind, but I’m assigned to teach you other
things.”

I rolled my eyes without realizing it.

“I see what I’ve done,” he said. “I’ve said too
much. You’ll remain a novice if you can’t gain the discipline required of you.
You’re only at the start of what will prove to be a long road, and you’ve yet
to learn how to feed without losing control of your emotions above all else.” I
looked away, though he continued to chastise me. “As your mentor, I’m to teach
you these things, but I’m also responsible for showing you how to wield your
gifts.”

I thought my supersonic ability to detect
frequencies was my only gift.

“It’s a gift to be sure, but you have others,” he
said. “With a maker like Cixi, a venomline comparable to the House of Bazaraab,
how can you not?”

I didn’t want to belong to such a venomline—I
wanted to be Vincent’s, and saw my inheritance as a prison sentence.

“Don’t see it as a punishment,” he said. “Look at
this as a time to become the best of us. You may leave here one day, and must
be prepared for whatever world awaits you.”

“I don’t have to stay with the Empress if I don’t
want to?”

“We are free beings,” he said.

“I can leave with Vincent if he leaves?”

Peter smiled, but only out of sympathy. “You can’t
know if the ancient one wants you to follow him.” He spoke in earnest, and
couldn’t have intended to plant the seed of doubt, but, too late, I cultivated
its thorny weed.

“I’ve no intention of staying with the Empress,” I
said.

“What makes you think you’ll want to leave?”

Unless Vincent stayed, I’d leave with him despite
his wanting me to or not.

“Not every vampire is made by one as powerful as the
Empress,” Peter said. “I would be careful about sharing your feelings with her.
She chose you, Evelina. Don’t let her see your contempt for her choice. If she
knows how well you love Vincent, she will hold on to you more tightly. She’s a
collector—and a spiteful owner.”