William (5 page)

“Beyond imagining. The smell of it, sickness
and rot, it gets everywhere. But we had the means to go and wait it
out somewhere else, so we set sail with a shipload of our finest
silks and cottons. A noble retreat; my sisters and I were all
preparing stories, thinking of Boccaccio.” He scoffed. “What a
joke. We were only at sea for a week, and then a storm came and
broke the vessel into little pieces. They all drowned, my mother,
my father, all three of my sisters, the crew and the captain;
everyone but me. A fisherman found me tangled up in a heap of wood
and rope. That’s the first tale in my Decameron."

“My God.” I’d always had a particularly wild
imagination where the ocean was concerned, having spent so many
childhood evenings perched on a barrel behind the bar where my
mother worked, listening in on drunken whalers as they traded tales
of adventure and peril at sea. Now my mind readily conjured the
unbearable sights and sounds Theo must have endured, the thunderous
cracking of the timbers, the victims choked and battered by the
churning waves. And to be the lone survivor! I could picture the
young Theo drenched and shivering on the slick decks of his
rescuer’s boat, cold seaweed clinging to his finery, shocked to the
bone.

I was about to offer some words of
consolation when Theo went on. "I was taken ashore, and word went
back to Marseilles. My father was well regarded there, though most
of high society had already fled the plague, same as we. I thought
I might have to stay in England! If you think the place is shit
now, you should have seen it then. Loathsome creatures, aren’t
they?”

I almost agreed on reflex before remembering
that Merrick was born in England. “I’ve met a gentleman or
two.”

Theo snorted. “Some Patriot.”

“So how did you leave?”

“After a few months, a savior did arrive. His
name was Erik, a Danish lord. Though he’d never been a customer, he
said he’d heard of my predicament and asked me to come and care for
the wardrobes at his chateau, where he lived with his wife. But he
disappeared as soon as he’d passed me off to the butler. They were
perpetually away on business. I lived there for six years before I
found out they were vampires."

"They!" I turned to him in surprise, walking
sideways for a moment. "The both of them? His wife? A woman?"

"Ho, that shocks you, does it? Ah, yes—I
forgot you left them out of the Constitution.” Ignoring my scowl,
he said, “Yes, her name was Greta, and she was his maker."

"How old were they?"

"Oh, not very old. He had scarcely lived a
century. Greta said she was born in Rome during the Black Death, so
she was about as old as I am now. Though she is quite ancient
today, if she lives. Slippery old bitch," he added mildly.

"You don't know if she's alive?" I was fully
intrigued. "What about him?"

"No, he’s dead." Theo paused before he spoke
again, more bitterly. "Another damned ship. I have a talent for
disasters at sea."

"But..." I caught myself with difficulty, for
it was in poor taste to press too eagerly for the details of
another's tragedy.

"There was a fire. He was trapped and he
died. Yes, I sense what you're thinking, but we are not invincible.
We have our weaknesses. Perhaps we can't starve to death, or
freeze, or suffocate, or bleed out. But we can be burned, or torn
to pieces, beheaded or stabbed through the heart, and who knows
what else? It’s all rumor until it happens."

"Is that so!"

"We’re not immortal.” His hooded head turned
toward me, and I could see the white sliver of his smile below the
edge of the velvet. “Just exceptional.”

We were passing the old foundry now, and
would soon be within the city proper. I urgently hoped there would
be some corner of Jude’s to allow our conversation to continue;
otherwise, I would rather keep walking than lose a word. And so it
was that Theo always got away with his damned impudence in the end!
I simply could not resist his revelations.

"I'm sorry for your losses," I offered after
the moment of silence. "I can’t imagine the grief you must have
suffered in those years."

"
Mais oui
, I was furious. He was a
cold man, but I adored him." There was an aged fondness in his
voice, and I could hear his smile. "
Merde
, but he was
magnificent. He never smiled. Always smelled of ice and stone."

As we stepped at last onto the cobblestones
of Church Street, I found myself shaking my head in quiet
astonishment. What a life—and I had hardly heard the beginning of
it! It made me wonder, too, as I had wondered once or twice before,
what a multitude of layers must lie beneath Theo's callous
exterior. From his first life, as he put it, to all the lives that
had followed, the vast territory of times and places he had
traveled surely had made their marks on his character. The scale of
experience strained comprehension.

And all this wonder only aroused my painful
yearning for the man whose mysteries still taunted my heart. For
Theo, for whatever reason, readily invited me to turn his pages;
yet, Merrick! Merrick remained a closed book, a private volume kept
under lock and key, a stately and sacred tome I was only allowed to
handle on rare occasions—and even then, only the cover, only the
spine.

"And then you met Merrick," I ventured.

"And then I met Merrick, yes, a few years
later. Why do you call him that? Is Silas too intimate for
you?”

Dolt. I called him Merrick because that’s all
I knew him by when I fell for him, and Theo could go to Hell. "What
was he like then?"

Theo laughed privately, as though he were
toying with what to tell me, and then ignored the question
altogether. “At last,” he said, gesturing to the wooden sign for
Jude’s just a dozen paces ahead. "I hope they have something
potable—I could murder a bottle of brandy."

How convenient that he should tire of
speaking. "All the coffee shops are taverns here. There will be
spirits aplenty."

"Ah,
parfait
. Then I won't have to
suffer what you mongrels call coffee."

"Yes, what a pity you are not still in
France."

"Bite your tongue, William. If I were still
in France..."

I was glad when he let the sentence die with
a flick of his hand. Yes, at least that we both knew: More than any
effort on my part, it was Theo's interference that had saved
Merrick.

A cloud moved over the sun as we turned onto
Court Street, distinctly darkening the afternoon, and Theo lifted
the edge of his hood to peer upward. "Not a moment too soon. Though
I don't know why we had to storm out of the house in the first
place."

My sigh was ignored.

I led the way into the coffee shop, where the
broad public room was rather lively for the hour. The common board
at the center of the chamber hosted a half-dozen men who sat at
generous intervals, some speaking amicably in the manner of
strangers who recognized strangers of a same class. Thankfully, I
did not know a single one of them.

The coffee-man nodded to us from behind the
bar, looking us over with sharp interest. His eyes lit up at the
sight of Theo, the perfect image of the wealthy young traveler the
establishment sought to milk.

As Theo shed his cloak I scanned the little
booths that lined the walls in the usual fashion. The cloudy
weather had prompted the proprietors to light the indoor lamps
early, and I spotted an empty place in the back where it was as dim
as evening. We settled in there, and Theo promptly hailed the
coffee man, who was poised practically on tip-toe to swoop in.

"A pot of coffee," Theo said in his Virginian
drawl. "And a good meal for my friend, here. He's right near
famished."

"Certainly, sir," the man bowed slightly. He
was in the middle of his twenties, I guessed, with light brown hair
and a good complexion. "And for you, sir?"

"No food for me." A glint of interest
appeared in Theo's eyes, and his lips curved into a smile. "But
what else have you got to wet my tongue?"

I leaned back in my chair, hiding a sigh.

"We have a good selection of drinks, sir,"
the man replied. "Imported whiskey and wine—a very fine claret that
may suit your tastes. But I must recommend our cherry bounce. We’re
on a particularly delectable batch at the moment."

"Is that right?" Theo's eyes hadn't left
him.

Clearly pleased to have caught the fop’s
interest, the man leaned in with a conspiratorial smile. "I've
hardly been able to stay out of it."

"Bring me a gill, then, dear man."

The man bowed and hopped to it. I watched his
departure unhappily, propping my elbow on the table and my cheek on
my hand, before I looked back to Theo. His sapphire eyes readily
returned my stare, containing, as always, that knowing gleam, as
though he anticipated my every thought and word.

Exasperating. Profoundly exasperating.

At last he inquired, with the casually
demanding note of a child accustomed to indulgence, "Have you
always been so gloomy?"

"Never been accused of such."

Theo smiled and set his own cheek lightly on
his hand, a delicate parody of my own pose. "That isn't true."

"How would you know?"

"There's little I don't know about you,
William Lacy." Theo shrugged. "I've been following you all over the
city for weeks."

I sat up in shock, then outrage. In a mirror
reaction, Theo lifted his cheek from his hand and uncurled his
fingers in an innocent gesture, as if he had no idea what had
sparked my reaction.

"Your drink, sir." The bright red cordial
appeared between us before I realized the coffee-man had
returned—likely the fastest drink yet poured in the nineteenth
century. For Christ's sake, he might as well lay flowers at the
devil’s feet.

"Many thanks," Theo said, and raised a hand
to keep the man from turning away. "Now, what do you reckon makes
your bounce so irresistible?"

My cheeks and ears were hot with anger. The
snake! Stalked me for weeks, had he? Listened in on my
conversations? Crept in close to my people? I wanted to strangle
him. And how gleefully he stoked my fury, flirting with the
coffee-man while I was forced to fume in silence! I closed my eyes
and pinched my brow as Theo prattled on about how the cherry
excited his tongue, how ripe the taste, how it made his lips
tingle.

God help me. Merrick had not only abandoned
me to my doubts, but to this horrible, wretched, scheming,
cold-hearted—

"Your supper will be brought up shortly, sir,
and the coffee is nearly ready."

"Thank you," I managed, my hand still pressed
to my brow.

"Of course I've kept an eye on you," Theo
said once the man had gone. "I couldn’t have you tumbling off that
tavern roof, or slashed up by robbers. Too much on the line."

I sat up and glowered at him, lost for
words.

"Come off it, morsel. It's just good sense.
You know what an idiot you can be."

"Miserable prick."

Theo gasped. "
Sacre bleu!
You really
aren’t one for polite conversation."

"Polite conversation!" I burst out, drawing
more than a couple of curious looks.

“Oh!” Theo grinned with sheer delight and
cocked his head back toward the center table. "Shall we move to the
common board, morsel?" he teased, lifting his cup toward his lips.
"Lay the whole matter before Them the People?"

"Shut up."

"We are brothers
en liberte
, after
all—"

"Shut up!" I hissed. "Damn it, be civil for
once, you insufferable ass!"

"
Calme-toi! Je comprend
." Theo spread
his hands and lowered them, as though to quiet an orchestra. "I'm
sorry, morsel. I forget we shall soon be equals." He paused,
looking upward with an ambivalent grimace. "Well. I use the term
loosely."

I dropped my hat onto my lap and ran my hands
through my hair, trying to replenish my patience.

"I did watch over you," Theo said in the
kindly tone one takes with a confused child. "I am not sure why
that offends you, but I'll beg your pardon if you like. I simply
saw no other choice. You must understand, morsel, you are the last
card I have to play." He was suddenly distracted by something over
my shoulder. "That man over there has a cigarette! Do you think
they sell them?"

"I don't know," I muttered. My head ached,
and so did my stomach. I would be glad for a meal. I hadn't taken
one in nearly two days.

"I'll ask Lunch. Here he comes with the
coffee."

I had to get to Merrick. I had to. Surely the
man had no idea what he had left me with. I might even tell him, I
thought. Yes, indeed, when all this was over, I might like a damned
apology.

Theo pushed a steaming cup slowly across the
table. "Yes, Will-iam, I know I’m terrible."

"Please tell me something useful," I said
plaintively, and seeing the delight flare in his eyes, I hurried to
speak over him. "Yes, I'm asking you. I know you know things you
think I'd like to know, or you wouldn't have come by today. So I
beseech you. Please. Tell me."

Theo hummed, swirling his little glass of
brandy. "Do you know that's my favorite word in English?"

"Please?"

"Very well," he said casually, as though that
were all he'd wanted. "Where shall we start? The killing?"

I stared at him until I could feel my dismay
overwhelming my features, and then looked down and shook my
head.

“No? You don’t want to talk about the
killing?”

“No,” I said, and with a tortured grimace,
“Yes.”

“There’s nothing to it. You get thirsty, you
drink. Well, there is more to it, but it comes with
experience.”

“You don’t just drink,” I hissed quietly.
“You murder.”

Theo laughed, incredulous, and leaned over
the table to speak closer. “It’s not murder,” he murmured. “It’s
nature. Fish eat flies, men eat fish, tigers eat men. You want to
jail the tigers?”