The Journal of Vincent Du Maurier Trilogy (Books 1, 2, 3) (45 page)

I obeyed and bolted up from the daybed, leaving the
donor to his recovery. I assumed he’d need a moment to regain his strength but
he also stood up, and fled the compartment. Alone with Vincent, I shrunk under
his scrutiny. He didn’t say a word, but glowered at me, his eyes not leaving my
face. I could barely return his look, and stared at the deck sheepishly.

He finally said, “Look at me.”

Though difficult to face him, I did and we locked
eyes. I don’t know if I imagined it, but I thought he softened under my gaze.
He released the tension in his mouth, and his eyes seemed to narrow when his
brow furled. I wanted to reach out and touch his face with my hand as I once
did, reminding him how handsome he was when he smiled, but I wouldn’t dare.

I don’t know how long we studied each other like
that, alone in the Empress’s cabin, but I felt my whole existence encompassed
in those moments of intimacy—for it was intimate, though I can’t say why.
Perhaps I felt him whispering secrets in my ear, or at least I felt his desire
to do so, though neither of us spoke. The spell was only broken when the
Empress’s simian screech echoed in the passageway. She was about to enter the
cabin, and I think Vincent also sensed her because he reached out and grabbed
my hand, squeezing it twice before releasing it again and stepping away from me
to stand on the other side of the cabin.

“Good,” the Empress said. “She’s told you, then?”

Vincent nodded and smiled.

I was wholly confused but didn’t dare let her see my
confusion. They’d obviously made some arrangement when I was tied up with
Jörvi, for I had no idea what I’d told him or when I’d said it.

“What do you think of her new style?” She asked. “I
told her to cut it, of course. I thought it would better suit a progeny of
mine.”

I bit my lip, though I don’t know why her
duplicitous behavior surprised me.

“Her features are such that it is difficult for
anything to diminish their quality,” Vincent said.

I took it as a compliment, though I’m not certain it
was. When he looked over at me to study me again, the lingering electricity
from his touch renewed its charge.

Empress Cixi pulled out her cigarette case and
offered him one, which he refused. Then, without asking, she pulled one out for
me, lit it, and handed it to me. I took the stick and put it in my mouth,
smoking my seventh cigarette. I don’t know why I felt embarrassed, but I did
and finished the butt off as quickly as I could.

“Shall we discuss the fight?” He asked. “Since that
is why I am here.”

Empress Cixi smiled. “Yes, of course, the fight,”
she said. “We’ll leave strategy to Huitzilli, but we should plan for her
failure.”

Failing to destroy Mindiss hadn’t seemed a possibility
until my maker mentioned it. I assumed there was no doubt I’d win. Why would
the Empress put me up against a vampire I couldn’t defeat? Was she really that
sadistic, I thought. “I won’t lose,” I said.

“Shush,” the Empress said. “Neither of us have asked
you to speak, Ei wai lina.” She scowled and gestured for me to stand in the
corner opposite Vincent. I didn’t mean to show that her chastisement touched
me, but I crossed my arms in front of me as I glided across the deck, and the
Empress whacked me with the back of her hand as I passed her. My rage seethed,
but I bit down hard, tightening my mouth. I waited for Vincent to speak up, but
he said nothing.

“So, if she should fail,” she said, and proceeded to
whine about Xing Fu’s humiliation.

Vincent asked her if she would not also suffer the
loss of her progeny, and when he smiled at her, I wanted to retch. He acted
nothing like the Vincent I knew. At that moment, I thought he’d abandoned me
completely, and my fingertips itched, as anger smoldered beneath the embers of
my furnace. I clenched my teeth to keep from speaking.

“At this point, I can take her or leave her,” she
said. “Though I’ll not deny she may be useful to me since Huitzilli tells me
she’s gained some control. But the delay of her talons makes me disagree with
his assessment of her—control seems to be the very thing she lacks.” She
turned to me and hissed and said, “Undisciplined novice.”

I was stone cold, unemotional, her earlier
pleasantries hadn’t fooled me. She’d appealed to me with her softer side simply
because it suited her. She thought she could sweeten me to tell Vincent I belonged
to her and had no interest in being his. They continued to discuss my
opponent—the Fangool—and I admired my beloved, as he refused to
wilt under her dragoness eyes. He let his subtle fangs drop and ran his tongue
across them, as he paced the cabin in front of the Empress and asked, “Is it
not more fitting for you to avenge your own venomline?”

The Empress took an extended drag on her cigarette,
biting the slim holder between her teeth. “Humph,” she said. “I see you think
she means something to me.” She laughed with a cackle that sounded like the
cluck of a hen. “I care little for Ei wai lina,” she said.

He said, without missing a beat, “So you will not
mind if she decides to leave?”

How bold and brave is my hero, I thought. That
sealed it for me. Had Vincent only misled me, pushed me away for no other
reason than to make the Empress give me up? I wanted to smile, I wanted to rush
to him and throw myself on top of him, though I clung to the corner and
swallowed my passion.

But she raised his stakes, refusing to let me leave
if I beat the Fangool. Her words were final and she threw up a hand to let him
know there was no further discussion to be had. She blew rings of smoke that
grew wider as they rose into the air. And just like that, Vincent backed down.
“Then I shall avenge your progeny if she is defeated in the ring,” he said,
emphasizing
your
.

“Good,” she said. “Now, to your compensation. What
will it be? We’re almost done with the recovery at the museum. Perhaps you want
to wait and see what’s new in my collection?”

“I will give it some thought,” he said. When she
reached down for another cigarette, he glanced over at me but then returned his
gaze once she looked up again. He smiled at her. “My plans are not quite
settled, but when I go, I will want a donor or two to take with me.”

With that my heart sank. He was preparing to leave,
and if he wanted to take donors with him, it meant he wasn’t returning.

“There are some I will not part with, as you know,”
she said firmly and then smiled. “But I’m sure we can make some kind of
arrangement. I know what you like.” Her eyes darted sideways to look at me
without turning her head.

“I will let you know,” he said. With that he bowed
slightly, and made for the door. He didn’t pay me another glance but left me
coldly as if Mindiss had already ripped out my heart and I was no more.

 
“Come
to me, Ei wai lina,” the Empress said.

I moved out of the corner and approached my maker.
It was clear her softness had left her and I wasn’t surprised when she reached
for my arm and snapped it from its socket and then whacked me on the cheek with
an open palm. My head rolled to the side but I didn’t fall to the deck. When
she saw me still standing, she placed her open hand against my chest and dug
her talons into my marble flesh. “This,” she said, seething, “this is what the
Fangool will do to you.” She didn’t actually tear out my heart but mimicked
doing it and then rose several feet in the air to drive a shot into my chest,
sending me flying across the cabin into the mirrored bulkhead. “Get out,” she
growled. “Now.”

I pulled my broken body up from the deck and left
the stench of cigarettes and her simian screech behind, utterly and hopelessly
defeated.

***

22 December.
— I have devised a
plan to get Evelina’s talons out. When I watched her spar with Huitzilli after
her flying lesson and she did not show her talons at his iron fangs, I knew I
had to take drastic steps. Her battle approaches and without her talons she
does not stand a chance. Muriel had told me Evelina seemed angry when she
mentioned my feeding on Gia. I had not considered it before, but realize her
jealous nature is the key. I will take a chance, hoping if I show her my affection,
she will fight for her place. With little to go on, I am uncertain how deep her
attachment runs, but if she is as territorial as I believe her to be, I have a
shot.

***

Entry 7

My abductor is no comfort to me. I can’t converse
with him since he’s incapable of using a language I know. I’ve tried to master
some of his sounds, but I’ve so little to work with I really can’t distinguish
a pattern yet. And I’m too bloodhungry to concentrate.

We’ve been on our own for hours—maybe
days—maybe years, even. It is dark now, and the moon’s shine cools me.
I’m chained to him. He’s shackled one of my ankles to his wrist, so that I’ll
not escape into the night. He can’t know how depleted I’ve become. I couldn’t
crawl up from this trench if it meant saving Vincent, let alone myself.

The fetid animal blood nauseates me—I don’t
know how much longer I can stomach the ichor he feeds me. I’d do anything for a
small drop of Muriel’s blood. I hallucinate about her blood. I’d grown used to
the taste, the smell, the high, but I can’t remember when I last touched her
pale skin with my fangs. The hours seem like years, and the days like decades.

“Che sta sta,” he said when he caught me writing. I
held the book up boldly, expecting him to take it from me, but he waved it away
and said, “Chiesti uman,” before returning to the pika he was skinning.

I don’t want to see my situation as hopeless, but
unless Vincent finds me, I’m done for—I don’t want to think of his
circumstances—his ignorance—if he doesn’t even know I’m missing … I
must get back to the ship.

…

Once I left Empress Cixi’s cabin, I went back to my
own. I could hear the clash of signals, as I roamed the passageways injured and
angry. But I didn’t hear the sparrow as much as I tried to find him. It was as
if he’d vanished, and I thought maybe he had. For the first time since my
awakening, I longed for nonexistence, the state of being Vincent had spoken
about in the villa when I was still human and contemplated his place in heaven.
I regretted the life my maker had chosen for me. I thought I could live happily
ever after with Vincent, but I was a fool.

“I like it,” Peter said with a smile. He came up
behind me so unexpectedly I wondered if he’d been following me. “I have,” he
said. “Not for long, though.” He pointed to my hair and said, “I like it,” a
second time.

I smiled, though I felt self-conscious and lifted my
hand to run it over my soft head.

“I see,” Peter said. “It’s a good strategy.” He
could tell why I’d done it. “But only your rage can save you, Evelina,” he
said.

He reached out to examine my arm, but I turned to
the side, recalling the last time he offered to set it.

“Ah,” he said with a chuckle. “Shall we get you to
Hal?”

“No,” I said.

“You must feed to heal that,” he said. “Can I send
him to you, then?”

I shrugged. Though I was hungry again already, I
just wanted to be alone. “Is it still daylight?” I asked.

“About noon,” he said. “Ah, I see. Right, I’ll leave
you to it. Go back to the cabin, and as soon as the sun is down, we’ll go up on
deck, all right?”

He promised to send Hal to my cabin and that he’d
come for me at dusk. “Rest until then,” he said. “You need to recover.” He
reached out a hand to stroke my cheek. “It’s going to be fine,” he said.
“You’re going to defeat her.”

“How?” I asked.

He smiled with his warm, genuine smile. “That’s it,
Evelina,” he said. “That’s what you’re going to figure out.”

He walked me part of the way, listening but not
speaking. I didn’t speak either, but I know he read my mind. He squeezed my
hand when he left me, though his touch was nothing like Vincent’s.

When I reached my passageway, I saw Veor standing
guard. He turned in my direction when he sensed me and gave me a confident nod,
looking as serious as he always did. It was strange to think of it, but not all
of the vampires on my maker’s ship were interested in living in a community. I
imagined Veor preferred the company of humans, which is why he was a bodyguard.
I wondered how he’d fare in the ring, if I could knock him down despite his
size. He moved to the other side of the entrance to let me pass, but sneered at
me, as I went in. His look made my fingertips itch, but I forgot my anger when
I drank in Muriel’s smell, shutting the door on Veor.

“Hello, Evelina,” she said.

I made for her like a feline to catnip.

“Wait,” she said. “I promise to feed you, but I have
to relay a message first. If I pass out and we don’t get the chance to speak,
Vincent will be angry with me.”

I ran my tongue across the bottom of my top teeth
with a closed mouth. My fangs were cold with anticipation. “Speak,” I said.

She sat on the berth, and laced her fingers,
fidgeting as she spoke. “Vincent insists you only drink from me,” she said.

“I know,” I said. “You told me last time.”

She looked down at her hands and said, “But he’s
upset you didn’t obey him.”

“Obey him?” My voice was deep, dark like my mood.

She shifted on the berth. “He wanted me to tell you
it’s imperative you follow his order. He doesn’t want you feeding from the
donors in the den. Just me.”

I was caught on the phrase
follow his order
. “Why isn’t he here telling me himself.”

“I can’t say, but I think he’s trying to—”

“What order?” I asked, unable to hide my anger.
“He’s lost the privilege of giving me orders.” I grew heated, blinded by my own
stupidity. I ranted incoherently, until I said to her, “Tell Vincent I don’t
fucking take orders from him.”

The shock of the statement quieted us both. I
couldn’t believe I’d said such a thing, and neither could she. She twisted her
hands together nervously, my outburst clearly frightening her. I hadn’t
realized how scary I looked, my aspect distorted with my rage. My fangs poked
my bottom lip, as I panted, pacing from one side of the small cabin to the
other. I must have looked like an animal, and she the bird, cowered on the
berth.

“Please, Evelina,” she said. “Come, let me feed
you.”

I didn’t wait for her to say it twice, and lunged at
her, slamming her back against the berth. She stifled a cry, as I tore into her
neck, only settling down once I’d tasted enough of her to calm me. She passed
out before I’d had my fill and I didn’t stop. All of my rage—my psychotic
maker, my betrayer, my captivity, my awakening—all of it drove me to my
villainy, as I lost control on Muriel. I didn’t know there was a mechanism, a system
in place that kept vampires from overdoing it as I did, and when Veor rushed
into the cabin and pulled me from the limp waif, he tossed me to the deck,
picking her up in his arms and shuttling her out of the compartment as fast as
he’d rushed in. I sat on the deck in my stupor, her high carrying me to the
edge of the abyss and over it. The image of the vampire saving the girl made
the corners of my eyes tighten and I felt the blasted pain of emotion once
again, festering inside, turning me to stone—or, perhaps, sand.

The hours waiting for Peter were dull, though I
amused myself with the admiration I’d yet to pay my body. I stripped down and
gazed at my figure. My hardened skin was perfectly smooth, like a statue, and
my arm had healed. I noticed the body hair that had sprouted with my pregnancy
had fallen away and my flesh had hair only in the most practical places. I
reached for the hair on my head, and wondered if it would grow back. I hadn’t
thought of that. My choice to shave it off had perhaps been spontaneous, and
now I regretted my tresses.

I looked into the broken mirror hanging above the
basin. Only a few shards of glass remained, so I couldn’t see my entire face,
but I was able to catch a glimpse of my red lips and they made me smile. I let
my fangs drop and admired them. They were white and pointy, though not as sharp
as Vincent’s. I wondered if they’d get more pointy with time, like his. Would I
grow more monstrous with age, I thought. “Will I become as villainous as
Vincent? Or have I already?” I whispered to the fragmented face in the mirror,
hoping she’d respond.

The tips of my fingers burned when I recalled my
beloved’s betrayal. How he threw me away again, not offering to fight for me as
he once did—when I was human and his.

I got dressed before Peter came for me. I heard his
frequency alongside Huitzilli’s, as they both made their way to my section. We
would go topside again, though not to gaze at the stars. “You are to learn to
fly today,” Huitzilli said with a belly roar. “Come, Tepin. Let the Hummingbird
teach you some tricks.”

The sun had just gone down, and I felt the lingering
heat of the winter day. The air was fresh, though, and I embraced the darkness.

“We must first pray to Tezcatlipoca,” Huitzilli
said, taking my hand in his and leading me out onto the tail of the ship. I was
prepared for him to push me off again, but he didn’t.

Peter waited for us on the deck, giving us our
space, I thought. When I looked back at him at one point during Huitzilli’s
chant, I thought his head was also bowed in prayer. He held his hands in front
of his chest, palms touching each other, with his chin resting on the tips of
his fingers. His coo was soft, trembling with each word he spoke. He looked so
peaceful, I wanted to abandon my chants to the Smoking Mirror and join Peter in
his show of reverence for the Christian god. All at once, the jagged fragments
of human emotion cut into me, and I let them go before they took out chunks of
my insides. I renewed my effort to follow Huitzilli’s incantation.

When we finished, the warrior guided me back to the
deck where Peter stood. “Are we ready?” Huitzilli said to my mentor.

“Is she, that is the question?” Peter smiled. “Ah,”
he said. “Yes, she is. There’s no doubt she is.”

Huitzilli put his hand on my shoulder. “Then we
shall rise,” he said.

He led me to the center radio tower on the ship. It
was more than ten yards up, but my trainer took a few short hops and reached
it. “Come, Tepin,” he shouted down to me.

I obeyed, and thrust my body upward, reaching for
anything my hands could grip. My flight wasn’t as smooth as the Hummingbird’s,
but it wasn’t too shabby for a novice. The tips of my fingers felt strong, as
they worked to gain a solid grip on the metal. The ship’s surface was slick
with a mist that came in from the sea. A thick fog was rising, and soon we’d be
buried in it. I followed my trainer up the radio tower, reaching the small
perch I’d seen Vincent on when I was working my way out of the water.

“Good, Tepin,” Huitzilli said. “Now look around
you.”

I did as I was told and turned three hundred and
sixty-five degrees around, marking all three sides of the shore and the expanse
of sea in front of us. The darkness didn’t hinder my sight, and I remarked on
the fascinating gift of seeing without light. “Can every vampire see in the
dark?”

Huitzilli laughed. “Of course, Tepin. We’re
nocturnal.”

It seemed obvious once he said it, but I hadn’t
really considered myself a creature of the night. The hours the sun kept seemed
lost on me, and only with the pain of my submersion in sunlight was I scarred
by the nocturnal feature of our character. I will be a creature of the night
for a long while.

“The fog is good, Tepin,” he said. “A gift from the
Smoking Mirror—he’s happy with our prayer offering. Now, do you know how
the hummingbird flies?”

I didn’t really, though I knew it was a bird capable
of going forward and backward.

“She flaps her wings with great speed,” he said.
“She uses her gift to connect with the air’s particles and easily cuts through
the waves. The air obeys her and lets her use his body to hold her up. In
exchange, she offers the air a hum that appeases his humor and tickles his wind
pockets.”

Sometimes the Shorn One, with his blue and red scalp
and the head of a jaguar across his tawny back, surprised me. His myths seemed
illogical and his reason unscientific, but when I learned to do the very thing
of which his myth spoke, my faith was renewed in my trainer. A leap is all
Huitzilli’s magic requires.

“Concentrate, Tepin,” he said. “The Smoking Mirror
is almost risen. Ask him to hold you up and let you cut his air with your
wings.”

He leaned over and planted his forehead against mine
and, as expected, wrangled my thoughts into his cauldron for safekeeping. He
ran his thumb across my lips and my fangs were ready to catch the Toltec’s
touch on their tip. “Be brave, my warrior,” he said with his rich tenor. “Fly,
Tepin, fly.” And with that, Huitzilli pushed me from the tower, out into the
fog.

I floated for a moment, I’m almost certain. I felt
the air—the Smoking Mirror—buoy me up. But the sensation was brief
and my body slammed into the bay before I could relish the freedom of flight. A
quick learner, I benefitted from all the effort I’d done the night before when
I’d spent hours getting myself off the seabed. I pulled my body up and out of
the water within moments, it seemed, and was back up the ladder to face another
attempt.

Huitzilli lingered on the tower and Peter cheered me
on from the deck. I climbed the ship’s antenna and stood beside Huitzilli once more.
I awaited his direction, thinking he’d have me tweak a few things, but he
stared at me blankly and said, “When you’re ready.”