The Journal of Vincent Du Maurier Trilogy (Books 1, 2, 3) (47 page)

Entry 8
(cont.)

Peter was relentless and I finally turned to him and
hissed. But it wasn’t Peter who was pulling me from Hal, it was Vincent. My
anger, my loneliness, my hurt melted when I looked up at his face. I pushed the
donor away and stood to greet my beloved.

“You may go,” Vincent said to Hal.

The donor got up, and without covering his chest or
wiping the blood from his neck, he slipped out of the compartment, shutting the
door behind him.

Vincent didn’t speak right away, but studied me,
slowly looking me up and down. His frequency felt more familiar than ever since
I’d learned how to make it mine, to make it obey my command and suspend me in
flight.

“Let me see your hands,” he said.

I held them out to him, palms facing down. I looked
at his brow and cheeks and lips and eyes, all the while noticing his aspect had
softened. It was solemn, showing grave intensity. He didn’t leave my hands
hanging for long, and brought his beneath mine, touching our palms together,
and slipping his fingers into my sleeves to rest them gently against the
insides of my arms. The contact created a current that made me weak, despite my
having been rejuvenated by Hal’s blood. My heart pounded in my chest, and I
held my breath, poised in a state of yearning. I didn’t want to do anything
that would break the moment between us.

“Do you know why I have come?” He spoke softly, his
rich voice almost a whisper in the small compartment.

I exhaled slowly, and said, “I don’t care, I’m
simply glad you’re here.” It makes me smile to recall saying that. It was the
first time I felt at liberty to confess my desire, to show him that I wanted to
be his. Part of me felt as though it were a dream, like a moment that didn’t
actually take place but was sewn into my life quilt sometime after it was made,
a stray piece of fabric that will forever be my favorite patch in the entire
patchwork. I cling to that moment now in my despair. I cling to it with my
life.

He drew in a breath and held it for a moment,
releasing it as he said my name,
Evelina
.
“Sweet Evelina,” he said. “What have I done?”

I’d never seen Vincent quite like this, tender and
careful, speaking with a lover’s tone. I bit my lip, willing myself not to
speak.

When I looked down at his hands beneath mine, I saw
them quiver, and then he slid his left hand out and touched my chin, guiding my
face up to meet his gaze. “Listen to me, Evelina,” he said. “You must obey me
now. You cannot drink the blood of any other. Only Muriel’s.”

His voice lulled me into a trance, and beneath his
words I heard the soft strum of two sparrows serenading one another. I stared
into his face, the face I’d forever see as my salvation, and fell into his
gaze. I’d never seen his eyes so blue, so cold like ice. They drew me to him
and I was lost.

“Evelina,” he said. “Have you heard my command?”

I nodded like an automaton, trapped in his stare.

“Repeat it for me,” he said.

“I cannot drink the blood of any other. Only
Muriel’s,” I said like a robot.

“Yes,” he said and smiled. “Yes, my sweet Evelina,
that is my command.”

Please kiss me
.

I thought I’d said the words aloud, but I couldn’t
have. He held my mind in his, as well as my will. I couldn’t speak without
impediment, let alone think for myself. But he read my mind and leaned in
closer. With his hand still gently holding my chin, he led my lips up to his
mouth and held them there, suspended on the cusp of a kiss, our lips never
actually touching but our souls passing through each other with bated breath.

I will confess I cling to that embrace, as I waste
away here beneath the sunlight. That intimate exchange keeps me alive now. It’s
my hope that he will come. It alone is my hope.

He broke our embrace as gently as he’d made it and
left me then. But not without gazing at me one last time from afar. He stood at
the door before opening it, an unspoken phrase hanging on his lips. I didn’t
realize I’d brought my hand up to the mouth he hadn’t kissed, and held it there
until long after we’d parted, my body suffering the sparks of electricity he’d
left in my bones.

…

Once Vincent was gone, Peter returned and took me to
my compartment. There was little to say between us. He knew everything
instantly, though he engaged me in conversation about other things, as we
walked back to my section.

“She hasn’t told you yet, then?” He asked.

“You can read minds,” I said. “Not me, remember?”

“Ah, sorry,” he said. “Your maker. She hasn’t told
you about the donors on the ship?”

“No,” I said. I tried not to think about what Muriel
had told me, what Vincent had commanded, but it was pointless.

“I see,” he said. “I wonder why he didn’t tell me. I
certainly wouldn’t have brought Hal if I’d known—huh—and neither of
them said why?” I didn’t answer. “Right,” he said. “Well, I’ll see what I can
find out, though I don’t get many opportunities to meet with the Empress.”

“What about her assistant?” I asked.

“Youlan?” He chuckled. “It’s true she’d know a lot
about her mistress, but unfortunately, I can’t reach her—I assume she’s
older than me.”

“Can you take me to see Muriel?” I hadn’t meant to
change the subject, but suddenly I felt the urge to see her. I’d wondered if
Vincent’s mention of her had planted a seed of guilt. For some reason, I felt
bad about how I’d treated her.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Peter said. “Abuse is common
practice and something all martyrs must suffer.”

“I’d still like to see her,” I said.

Rather than feel empathetic as a human would, anger
nagged at me again. I was angry that I’d hurt her and wanted to rid the
feeling.

“Sure,” he said. “But it may have to wait.” He
pointed down the passageway to the vampire at my door. It was in fact the
Empress’s den keeper, Youlan. I didn’t think she’d have heard us speaking about
her. “No,” Peter said. “I’m sure she’s here on other business.”

Youlan was strange for any number of reasons, but
one was that I couldn’t hear her frequency at all. It was as if she didn’t have
one.

“Empress Cixi requires your presence in her cabin,”
she said coldly. “I have been sent to fetch you.”

“May I come as well?” Peter asked with a smile.

Youlan frowned at him. “The Empress has not
requested your presence,” she said and then turned to me. “Follow me. She does
not like to be kept waiting.”

Youlan led me to the ship’s stern, up several levels
to the posh halls of the Empress’s palace. I passed
Ophelia
and several new additions, hanging above the paintings that
were already there. I didn’t have time to admire the canvases, but I did notice
how the ship looked more and more like a hoarder’s den.

I wasn’t prepared for what I’d find in my maker’s
cabin, but I should’ve guessed she’d show me the treasure eventually.

“Come in, Ei wai lina,” she said. “Sit.” She
gestured for me to take the throne.

She didn’t hide the young girl with the bundle in
her arms, but even if she did, I would’ve smelled them. The servant was
elegantly dressed with an opened collar that evinced the peachy glow of her
skin. It vibrated with a range of neon colors like Hal’s. She wore her hair
down and swept over one shoulder, and looked about my age. The baby stirred in
her arms and she swayed back and forth with it. “Shush,” she whispered to the
bundle.

“I thought you’d be curious to see her,” the Empress
said. “I’ve been told you haven’t asked about her yet.”

I don’t know who told her, despite its veracity. “I
care little for the child,” I said.

“Is that so,” she said.

She didn’t offer me a cigarette this time, but
smoked enough for the both of us during my visit. She didn’t even remove the
lit stick from her mouth when she leaned in to look at the baby. She caressed
the child’s face with the tip of her ornamental claw and smiled over at me. “Lú
xiya, they call her,” she said. “Is that the name you gave your child?”

“It was my sister’s name,” I said.

“How sentimental.” She took the cigarette from her
mouth and faked a retching gesture. “Thank Xing Fu’s venom for denying you
further lachrymosity. Was she important, this sister?”

The Empress sounded ridiculous, referring to my
human sister as if she were in competition with her for my affections.

“I don’t remember,” I said, which was somewhat true.
Lucia was one of the memories that had faded with my hardening. I could barely
recall her face before I became a vampire, now she was nothing but a dreamy
figure.

“Humph,” she said with a scowl.

She snatched the baby from the young girl’s arms and
it cried out with a horrid little squeal. The sound made my stomach harden and
I stood up from the chair. I tasted the bile, as it rose in my throat, and had
to swallow to keep it from choking me. My fangs dropped and my hands balled up
into tight fists, my fingertips burning.

“Has she upset you?” The Empress asked.

I stared at her fearlessly and said, “Why would
she?”

She bit the tip of her cigarette holder and sucked
in air through her grit teeth. The baby continued to squeal until she handed it
off to the young girl once again. The servant took it and handled the small
thing with ease, returning to a sway as naturally as if she’d been a machine.

“Show her,” the Empress said to the young girl.

The servant crossed the cabin with the child and
held her out to me. The bundle stirred and made sounds unlike human words, and
then stretched a small hand out toward me. I retreated from it and hit the
throne with the back of my leg, almost losing my balance.

“Take her,” the Empress said. Her request wasn’t an
offer to be accepted or refused, but a command to obey.

I shook my head, repeating no in Italian since I
couldn’t seem to form the Chinese syllables quickly enough. I made it clear I
wanted nothing to do with the bundle.

“Sit, Ei wai lina,” she said. I obeyed and dropped
into the cushion of the throne behind me, but kept my arms crossed, actively
denying access to them.

“Nan,” the Empress said, gesturing to the girl.
“Give Lú xiya to her mother.”

I glared at my maker with a look that couldn’t be
mistaken for anything but starry vehemence. I didn’t want the bundle and made
it difficult for the servant to pass her off.

“Psst,” my maker said. “Nan, drop it.”

The young girl, who I assume is called Nan, looked
at the Empress questioningly, as if to say, “Are you sure you want me to drop
her?”

The Empress hissed at her in reply and she laid the
bundle across my legs. As if chiseled out of stone and in a frieze, or drawn
into a tableau with oils, the child and I sat motionless for what seemed like
hours. I didn’t look down at her, but could feel the heat of her pressing into
my thighs. She smelled too sweet for my taste, a mix of baby powder and milk.
Her blood didn’t appeal to me either, if it was in fact supposed to, and I
actually thought her aroma wretched.

When I could feel the bundle slipping from my legs,
I thought it best to let her drop to the deck and so I kept my arms tightly
folded across my chest. I looked down only once at the strange round face
gazing up at me. I didn’t know this child and she didn’t come from my body. Not
the body that was mine now.

It wasn’t until she’d slipped to the perilous edge
of my knees that the Empress allowed Nan to snatch her back up and sway with
her like before. The relief of having the bundle off my legs can’t be
explained, but I’ll say it’s somewhere between my being saved from sunlight and
the talons of the Fangool. But I experienced the greatest relief when my maker
ordered Nan and the bundle out of her cabin. Their escape was my solace too and
I sighed a muted sign of gratitude.

“Do you know why I wanted you to see her?” She
asked, putting another cigarette in her holder and sucking it to a fiery tip.

“To see if I still had feelings for her?”

This made my maker cackle uncontrollably, and not
for a short amount of time. When she’d finally settled with a snort, she looked
at me and her smile turned to a glower. “You’re impossible,” she said. “Still
so ignorant.” Her acrid tone had returned and I tensed my body in anticipation
of a beating, as she paced the deck in front of me. I wondered if I was skilled
enough, and sufficiently emboldened, to land a few hits of my own.

“It’s true we’ve always held human blood to be of
value for obvious reasons,” she said. “But do you know how precious their blood
is now?”

I assumed it was extra precious, all things
considered. Despite her having a ship full of human donors, she also had a
troop of hungry vampires to keep satiated.

“It’s why Vincent saved me,” I said.

“Vincent—Vincent—Vincent,” she mocked.
“Even the way you say his name is tedious. He is nothing to you now, and will
be gone soon. I’ve asked you a question, now answer it. How precious is human
blood?”