The Vampyre, page 23
His grip released and he snagged his finger from the ground, licking it to reattach it to his hand. I faced him, fixing my gown as I stared into the very same blue eyes as my own.
“Adam,” I greeted with cool indifference. On the inside I was screaming.
“It is good to see you, Rose. That dress is most becoming on you.” Adam’s jaw worked against some stressor. I could only stare at him, my brother. My brother who I’d thought was dead for so long, who had worked with my husband’s nemesis… my husband? “Are you alright?”
“Why?” I asked him, the sorrow threatening to break through the wall I’d built around it.
“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost. It feels we both have.” His brows plunged. “How are you alive?”
I stared for a moment in shock, taking in the sincerity of his tone. He genuinely seemed caught off guard, his eyes crazed. Had he really thought I died?
“William Changed me,” I said after loaded silence. Adam raised his eyebrows.
“When? Noel said she killed you after—that your heart wasn't beating anymore.” I saw the confusion clearly on his forehead.
“You were there. I saw you. Please do not feign ignorance with me, brother,” I bit out, channeling my hurt sadness into anger.
“I’d heard William approaching, she made me leave.”
“Did she make you sit there and watch your own sister be murdered? Or did you choose to do so idly?” I snapped, my belly burning with rage.
“I did what I had to do, Rose.” He threw his hands in the air in defeat. Did he feel any guilt at all for what he’d done? “I just cannot believe you’re here. She was quite adamant you were gone.”
“I am sure you did, Adam,” I ground out sarcastically. “When will you learn that not everything everyone says is true?” I pulled my fur shawl around my shoulders contemplating ripping his head from his shoulders right now. It was too much to be around him, to look into his face—so similar to my own—and know what he had done to me. He deserved the ultima mortem.
“This changes everything,” he said in an offhand tone. I paused my contemplation as he stared deeper into the alley, holding his breath while he thought. I had heard that expression too many times before and the phantom of bereavement washed over me.
“I'm not in the mood for this,” I snapped, taking a step toward him.
“Where is William?” Adam asked, fangs bared. My own fangs protruded, my tongue running over the tip easily. I should not have been surprised that he would resort to violence, not after what he’d done.
“I have not seen him since before 1870. Nor do I ever care to again,” I snarled in animosity. He shoved my back against the wall, the building underneath quivering with the force. His hand was on my throat and instinctively I gripped his arm.
“If you pull off my hand, your throat comes, too,” he threatened. “Where is William?”
“I just told you I don’t know.” I choked out. He loosened his grip. “Why do you wish to know so badly?”
“Confidential information, sister. Tell me where he is. Now!” Without mercy, Adam hurled back his fist, bringing it down onto my face. There was a loud crack, the pain radiated through my jaw and into the back of my head. Again he reared back to strike me but I gripped his fist in my hand, tears of fury burning down my face. He wrapped his free hand around my throat once more, pressing into me.
“Adam!” I cried, the icy tendrils of betrayal working their way through my walls. My face ached and I wriggled under his grip. “Why in God's name are you partaking in all of this?” My airway was crushing under his hand but he loosened his grip once more, shaking his head.
“I want to tell you all of it, Rose. Everything that’s transpired since the war, I want to tell you because I’ve missed you,” Adam sighed heavily. “But you don’t understand what side you’re on. With William… Listen, I love her. She’s my whole existence; Noel is everything to me. You don’t understand how good she is, how she saved me during the war. I was laying there dying and she made sure I wouldn’t suffer again. It is unfortunate you somehow got mixed up in all of this.”
“You think she’s good? She killed your sister and your niece.” I spat, “You think she loves you? She herself told me she cannot move on from William. She doesn’t love you, Adam! Let go of me!” I struggled under his grasp as a group of humans passed by the alleyway. Adam stilled, pressing himself into me, into the shadow.
“Noel said he was using you to get to her. He was using you as his personal blood bag. She said he was using you to spawn his own army with your hybrid daughter. That he would go to greater lengths, give into his more theatrical tendencies and he needed to be stopped. To stop him we had to kill you and–” I merely gaped at his words, what in the world was he rambling about?
“She thought you were dead, but clearly not. It changes everything, it’s a matter of great importance she’ll want to hear of immediately. All these years he’s been on our tails, not to mention the incident in New York. You were there the whole time! Clearly he is still in London.” Adam thought deeply for a moment, releasing me completely.
William, Noel, AND my traitorous brother were all in London? Wasn't the city becoming a little crowded? I needed to get out and leave the continent. Maybe I could go home and see Mother and Father since it had been so long... But what would they think? Oh no, I could just peek in on them. They would never see me, really.
“I must take you to Noel,” Adam finally surmised, bringing me from my thoughts. I bent down into a defensive crouch, unwilling to go anywhere. This dress was going to get ruined and that thought made me sad. “Or perhaps I will kill you myself.”
“You were my brother–my best friend. You’ve gone to a new low, Adam, and it won’t be me who dies tonight.” I declared, confident in my abilities. Adam mimicked my stance, sneering.
“It’s the way it has to be, Rosemary, there will be no loophole now.” Adam jumped toward me in a lightning-fast move but I dodged, climbing up the wall of the seven-story brick building. He was close behind, I let my shawl fall onto his face, throwing myself over the side of the roof. I ran over the rooftop, kicking my red heels from my feet to jump to the next one. The seams of the dress stressed with every leap, I gripped it in my hands, holding it up for better movement.
I went on like this until the River Thames, where Adam was trailing two buildings behind. Out of options, I flung myself into the river, the water breaking around me was like hitting a brick wall and I sank to the bottom in pain.
The river was cool and dark, there was little movement beneath and I hoped he would think I’d leapt into the streets. I stayed completely still, watching the black figure jump from the roof and out of sight. I didn’t have much time, London was no longer safe. There was every possibility he would track my scent to the hotel. I swam down the dirty river toward Tower Bridge. A poor choice, but the only one.
Before long I spotted my exit, bobbing my head up into the spring night air. Clouds were parting and the tiny points of twinkling light became visible beyond them. My hair stuck to my face, the breeze which brushed over my skin left no chill in its wake. I swam over toward a pillar leading to the bridge and climbed up, my dress clinging to my skin in all places.
Taking the soaking hem into my hands, I sprinted toward the hotel. Carefully, I watched every movement as I made my way back into the lion's den, streets darker than before, quieter now that the city had finally grown sleepy.
When I reached the hotel, I did not stop, nor did I bother to take the main entrance. Certainly not covered in Thames water, the stench of sewage permeating from it. I climbed up the side of the building, smashing the glass window to my room, and leapt inside.
Waiting for me in the darkness, sat Adam, reading the letters I had written to our mother and father, but never sent.
“September thirteenth, eighteen seventy:
“Dearest Mother, how I miss you. I cannot even articulate to you the trouble I have had hiding from what I am. I am sorry I cannot come home again, but there are things that I do not even know or understand yet that I do not want to expose you and Father to. I genuinely hope William's excuse was enough to quiet your worried–”
Sorrow opened the hole in my chest, black and heavy. I shrieked, lurching toward my own brother to kill him, knocking the couch over with the force of our bodies colliding.
I ripped the letter from his hand but Adam kicked me in the stomach, knocking the air from my lungs and propelling me upside down into the door on the opposite wall. I was up instantly, an ache slithering through my abdomen as I moved toward the window to leave. Adam stood in a perfectly human stature, blocking my way as he flipped the couch back up.
“Now, now, Rosemary Blackwell?” he laughed, shuffling through the letters. “And you expected me to believe that you weren't with him. Hah!”
“I am not!” I shouted, panting with rage.
“Then why in God's name do you have his ring around your finger still? His mother's ring?” I looked down at my hand, gripping it into a tight fist. “And why, Rose, do you have his necklace around your neck?”
I had no answer for him, at least not one I was willing to admit to. I inched closer to the window, each step minute to ensure I curved around him enough to make the jump.
“If you expected me to believe you were not together, you would not continue to call yourself by his name, sister.” Adam pulled another letter from the pile. “You even wrote to them about me, about how I did nothing for you. I only wish you knew just how much I’ve done.”
“Stop it!” I shouted, the dam of feelings breaking, washing over my insides. Putrid, festered pain engulfing everything.
“Come, let us go see Noel. You can tell her where Ole Will is and we can be done with it all. I believe you’ll be most surprised when you see her.”
“I don't think so, brother.” I propelled myself out the window, agile and panther like, onto the streets of London where I sprinted for miles without stopping. I left all that had kept me sane in that room, my memories, my money, every connection to my past. Now what was I going to do?
I didn't stop running though, pushing myself farther and farther from the city toward the east. It was only a matter of time before I'd hit Liverpool where I could hopefully catch a ship to America. Finally I would do what I had wanted to for too long… I would visit my mother and father.
My home.
Packing up the festering ache in my chest, I let the tears slip behind me, trying to focus on the freedom of running. I tried to focus on how light it made me feel, how utterly unchained it was an action. Encountering these old wounds caused a throbbing in my chest I tried so desperately to bury these last thirty years. I had not just been running from William and Noel, but from the hurt. From the pain of my brother; Adam had truly deserted me. Where did it all go so wrong?
I wondered if it was possible for Noel to love Adam, despite what she said when she’d killed me. Who could I trust? Why would Noel confess all of what she did to me thinking I’d never be able to tell a soul, only for Adam to share something much more… sinister? And it was sinister, what he said about William. Even though I remembered William never drank directly from me, he didn’t even know I could become pregnant by him… it simply didn’t add up.
I thought Adam was so much more clever than that. He had been the top of his class, sharp as a tack, Father’s pride and joy; Noel must have been truly powerful to sink her claws into his mind.
Though, there had to be a connection. William was always so secretive, so less forthcoming with information. It was all too much. They had caused me too much, Changed me into something I didn't want to be–something like a demon.
And yet despite it all, the years and isolation, he still haunted me. His betrayal was grave, yet he still burned behind my eyes. Why could I not severe that connection?
Chapter Twelve
I reached Liverpool before sunrise, my stunning ruby dress was ruined from the run and I was entirely a mess. Could I pull off a rape victim? Or would a shipwrecked girl floating in from the harbor? Either one sounded good enough, either had merit. And as much as it pained me, lies such as these were a necessary evil when as a vampyre. I had to make it along somehow.
William had warned me of such. The realization turned my gut with something like guilt.
Damn him, and damn Adam for running me out. Worrying my lower lip, I reached the busy dock, stacks of cargo and men shouting all around. The air brimming with the scent of salt water and fish.
I liked my second idea best; a girl floating in on a piece of driftwood, unsure of her surroundings, just knowing she was on a ship to America from Dublin. I could pull it off. Sneaking around corners of cargo, I avoided the men loading a large, metal ship to New York. A good enough destination for me.
Silently, I came behind one of the larger shipments of crates to an old lifeboat. Working with haste, I tore the wooden boat in half with a loud crack, taking the largest piece with me as I jumped into the water. Swimming down into the deepest part of the bay, driftwood in hand, I kicked some hundred yards out before resurfacing. I flung my torso over the wood, kicking to propel me back inland.
Now it was time to float dramatically toward the dock. My dress, tattered and stained from the run, wrapped around my legs in the water. I gripped the hem, tearing the poor fabric in specific places in an attempt to make it worse, as if I had been through some true horror.
“Sorry, new friend,” I muttered, mourning how beautiful it had been.
Laying there on the makeshift driftwood and continuing closer and closer to the dock was probably the hardest part. The water was chilled and lapped against me as I closed my eyes. To keep myself under control, I practiced the part over and over in my mind. I had become such a wonderful liar through the years but if it weren't for the fact that my entire existence needed to be hidden, I do not know if I could ever lie to anyone like this.
The sun peeped through the clouds, ringing in my ears as it reflected on the deep blue water of the bay. I tried to keep a serene face as I floated toward the docks, but the discomfort—
“Man overboard!” a voice called out in panic. Men came running, their boots thundered on the wood of the dock as they rushed together in my direction. They all seemed to speak at once, several yelling commands to pull me out of the water, their trepidation tangible even from here. I rocked back and forth with the waves and decided to add a flare of dramatics by slipping off into the water. Three men jumped from the ship itself, two others jumped from the dock.
I let my body sink deeper into the bay, gulping water to feign drowning. Oh, I was grateful for the dark, for a break from the beating sun. Before I could linger on it any longer, an arm wrapped around my waist and brought me to the surface. The man gasped when he hit the air, but I did not, holding my breath to heighten his tension. He seemed to notice this, calling for the others to throw him a ladder with strain to his tone.
I listened to the commotion and alarm above with some sort of sick pleasure; this plan really had turned out well. The ladder splashed into the water and my rescuer began to climb it, hoisting me over his shoulder to hang limply. When he reached the top of the dock, he carefully laid me down on my back.
“She’s not breathing, sir!” a man said.
“Wonderful assessment, Dawson. I hadn’t a clue,” came the asinine reply. Two heavy, large hands placed themselves on my body, one on my chest and the other, my stomach. Rhythmically they compressed; one, two, three, one, two, three. Over and over again he pushed his palms into my hard flesh.
“She’s cold as ice!” he shouted. He continued his compressions, desperation building in his movements. Poor thing, I was already dead.
Murmurs erupted from the men around us and after a few agonizing moments, I finally coughed up the water I’d swallowed, fluttering my eyes open dramatically.
I gasped, gripping the man’s shirt as I became more oriented to the space. Sailors surrounded my rescuer and I, all smelling of beer, tobacco, fish, and mint. Their clothes were as soaked as mine and their beards dripped with the bay water. Beside me, his shirt in my grip, was the one who had pulled me from the water. He was young, handsome, and his eyes were as hard as steel as he watched me with a weary expression.
“You alright, young lady?” asked a burly voice. I coughed again, trying to sit up. The young man put his hand on my back, so warm, cautioning me.
“Take it easy,” he murmured in an American accent.
“Oh!” I cried, tears streaming down my face. “Where am I? Where is my husband?” I looked around. The sailors exchanged glances, all fluffy beards and big arms. They were dressed in dirty clothes, ready for their voyage across the ocean except for the young man dripping beside me. A few of them were English, most were American.
“You're in Liverpool, England, miss,” said my savior. I began the hysterics, something I’d mastered long ago, explaining I was on my way to New York with my husband from Dublin. Our ship caught fire, men were fighting, women were screaming, there was an explosion, and everyone was panicking.
The men all muttered in surprise.
“Wonder if it were those mafia,”
“Maybe something in the kitchen,”
“Poor girl!”
“What will I do? How will I get to New York? My husband! Oh, he must be dead!” I started a whole new round of wails; the men each patted my back or rubbed my arms soothingly as some more sailors came over to assess the damage. “Thank you for saving me, sir. But… I—I’m afraid I haven't any money now, how will I get home? I may as well be stranded!” I flung myself into his broad chest and his arm wrapped around me nervously.
“Now, now, miss. All is fine–we are heading toward New York City today, you’re more than welcome to join us!” an older man exclaimed, smiling down at me. No doubt he believed he was bringing me some sort of solace. The others joined with a chorus of affirmation and I sniffled, letting a few stray tears make their way out.
