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

by K. P. Ambroziak

  “Time hang,” he said, hissing his garbled words. He reeked of vomit and fish, and the black tar he spewed when he spoke hit the slats of the shed. “Hang,” he said again.

  His signal was low and I thought it reflected his mood. He didn’t seem aggressive, despite the circumstances. I was still bait, I was certain of it, and he could only get Vincent to come if I was alive. He was too shrewd to waste his hostage.

  I followed him out from the shed, where the bright sky prodded my healing flesh. Until the sun sank, I’d suffer its fire. My fangs dropped, as I bit my lip to bind my anger, bottling my rage, though I wanted to tear into my captors’ necks and shred them limb from limb. I was wise to my disadvantage, and when the fiend turned midstride and belted me across the face, knocking me to the ground, I kissed the grass, as it scorched my cheek.

  When I woke, the world was upside down. I hung by my feet high up in a tree. The low drum of the bloodless howling in swarms greater than I’d seen yet deadened the signals in the air. I called out, as I continued to gain my senses and reap the punishment of a scorching sun. My flesh bubbled on the homemade pyre, and I passed out before I could tell if the sound of the sparrow was only in my head.

  I came to in some kind of trench with nothing but branches to shade me overhead. The sun was still up, but the darkness of the natural canopy saved my skin from worsening. I’m alone again, held prisoner by the daylight, but he’ll return before dusk to chain me down and feed me with his acrid succor.

  I’ve no idea when I fed last—the pain in my gut is possibly worse than the burns.

  …

  Peter’s frequency alerted me to his arrival the second time he came for me. I concentrated on it, as I followed it through the ship’s passageways. The sound intensified, as he drew closer to my cabin, and peaked before he knocked on the door. By my estimate, I’d tracked him all the way from down in the bowels of the engine room, and I wanted to ask him if I was on target, but he wasn’t alone.

  “This is Zhi,” he said. “Zhi is going to show you a few things.”

  I recognized Zhi as the one who’d tossed me onto his boat and ferried me to my doom. I was frightened of him then, but now that I could hear his signal I was impervious to his sinister mien.

  “Shingwen,” Zhi said. “Yungwo man ly cancan shamanitz tso.”

  “Zhi would like to bring you to the ring,” Peter said. “It’s an honor for a novice to be shown this kind of attention, Evelina. It’s a privilege to have a maker as powerful as yours.”

  I didn’t quite see it that way but complied and followed the ferryman to the place they call the ring. An entire section of the ship was devoted to the vampires under Cixi’s command. No fool, my maker squelched mutinous aspirations by allowing her vampires to indulge in their brutal nature when they were called to do so, which, as it happened, was often. The crew onboard was satiated with blood, but also brutality. In the depths of their steerage quarters, out of sight from their Empress, the vampires engaged in ritual battles, grueling duels between two unequally paired vampires. If the weaker can fend off the stronger, he proves victorious.

  As we approached steerage, I not only heard the frequencies but also the foreign obscenities to which there seemed no end. “They’re in the throes of a match now,” Peter said. “Stay close.”

  I clung to Peter, as he followed Zhi and I followed him. The dank and rusty underbelly of the ship couldn’t have been more averse to the passageways above, but this pit of hell was like a scene from Dante’s furnace. We entered the compartment on a mezzanine, looking down on the ring. Vampires hung from the rafters and railings, catcalling and cursing at the two in the pit.

  Zhi motioned for me to look over the balcony where we stood. “Jo hung kwy sho ishini shingwen,” he said.

  “What did he say?” I turned to Peter, but he had already moved to the railings, engrossed in the spectacle.

  The crowd of vampires raved and hissed, and their chaos rattled in my head. I had never been one for brutal violence, having turned away when running from the bloodless, but the ring roused a newly starved desire. I joined Peter at the rails and hung over to watch the match.

  My concentration on the action helped me pull the frequencies into one lone buzz, like the synchronized hum of hornets in a hive, until the vampires’ growls and jeers, egging on the two warriors in the ring, faded, and all I heard was the drone of the sizzling air. I leaned closer to the deck below, letting the hum fall away to the background, and focused my attention on the lanky vampire, struggling beneath the grip of the other. The hulking mass, an ugly bearish figure, had the lanky one by the neck and squeezed him like a lemon wedge. The big one’s signal sounded off with a lone scream, like the whistle of a boiling kettle, but the signal of the lanky vampire, caught in the grip of the other, drew me in. Like the peal of a solemn drum, the vampire called to me, as though begging for help.

  Mesmerized by the call, I watched him struggle to free himself from the other. The bearish fiend laughed, as the crowd cheered for him to finish off his victim. The lanky fellow reached for his opponent’s chest without success, and his eyes gave a look of defeat so sincere that his end seemed near. The bearish vampire, hungry for victory chants, held his other arm out and baited the crowd like a maestro directing his orchestra’s tempo to rise and swell. He grinned, which didn’t add to his charm since he wore a metal grill that made all his teeth look like razor sharp fangs. Any reasoned creature would’ve turned away from the brute.

  The drum of the lanky vampire, having almost succumbed to his fate, stepped up its appeal and thumped with fervor. I couldn’t tune him out, and his wave of sound carried me away. Unaware of my body’s flux, I floated over the balcony down into the fray of the fighting vampires. Like in a dream, disoriented and out of control, I flew to the aid of the one who called. I touched down on the deck below, right in the center of the pit, dismissing the vibrations that shot through my stony legs with my slam into the cold metal. Peter called to me but his voice was lost among the jeers of the others. The crowd of vampires raged when they saw me in the pit and their frequencies crashed into one another, making the drone of hornets sound like a rush of static in both my ears. I dismissed them and concentrated on the lone drumbeat that begged for me.

  As though moving through molasses again, I stretched my arm out and reached for the bearish vampire’s free hand, slapping it down before throwing my body up against his chest and standing in-between him and the lanky one. My movements felt sluggish, but the vampire’s response to my intrusion was slower still and I had time to tear into the aggressor’s marble flesh with my fangs. My stomach hardened with the trapped emotion inside it, as I converted it all to rage. All those feelings I’d swallowed since turning to stone erupted from my center and shot out of me, channeled into my jaw on his flesh.

  But like baby teeth on a man’s forearm, my fangs had no impact on the vampire’s skin. The force behind my bite was far greater than the bite itself. I’m embarrassed to picture the absurdity of the scene now, as the bearish vampire received my fangs like the annoyance of a single gnat feeding on a sunbather’s skin. My feat of bravery proved entertaining for the crowd around me, though, and before the hulking vampire shook me loose, he laughed a deep belly roar that infected the jeering vampires. Soon the steerage quarters were in uproar, as those watching laughed at the spectacle and those absent rushed in to see what the laughter was about.

  I’d yet to learn of vampire energies, but the collective educated me when they rose up and cheered for the underdog. The lanky vampire, empowered by his supporters’ clamor and my distraction, used his claws to peel away the fingers on his neck. But his efforts were in vain, for he couldn’t loosen his contender’s grip. His signal tore into me with even greater intensity, as he redoubled his effort. I got up from the deck, shaking off the crash, and jumped onto the back of the bearish vampire, forgetting the weakness I’d already shown. The lanky one used my second diversion to his advantage and instead of peeling his co
mpetitor’s wiry fingers from his neck, he reached out for the back of his opponent’s head. I had a front row seat to the horror, as the lanky one used his talons to yank the other’s scalp, tearing it at the base of his head. The bearish vampire tossed his shoulders up and threw his head back, releasing his grip on the lanky one. I also lost my hold, as his sudden jerk knocked me off him again. He threw a hand over the wound to feel for damage, but there was no blood—there’s never blood—though there was a victory.

  Taking advantage of the distraction, the lanky vampire dropped his hands to the deck like a bull ready to charge, and then bolted for his opponent with his entire body, thrusting into him and slamming him clear across the ring. The hypnotic chant of his drum finally subsided, as he stood victorious in the midst of the crowd. The spell broken, I realized what I’d done, as I lay on the deck, recovering from the force of the bearish vampire. The battle, however, wasn’t over. As the lanky vampire approached me, a figure arose behind him with a signal that peaked. The devil had bolted up, his eyes teeming with hate, as he scanned the deck for his object of revenge. I was his opponent now, though oblivious to having become his target. He pushed my new friend out of the way and rushed at me with a vengeance.

  ***

  THE JOURNAL OF VINCENT DU MAURIER

  18 December. — I had decided to kill the donor. I waited for her in my cabin, itching for a quarry. Ever since I had taken off Vlad’s head, I felt the desire to sink my teeth into something perishable and helpless. Or perhaps I still mourn my loss. When the girl arrived and greeted me with her small hello, my hatred cooled. I invited her inside and asked her to sit on the berth. She obeyed and stared up at me with eyes as willing as Evelina’s once upon a time. I wondered if she tasted like my lost one.

  “What is your name?” I asked.

  “Gia,” she said.

  “How long have you been on the ship?”

  “Ten months,” she said.

  She looked well for a girl who had been used up since the beginning.

  “You feel safe here?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “Especially now.”

  “Why especially now?”

  “I’m one of the nannies,” she said. “I help take care of the baby.”

  The girl could not know what she said to me. I had not seen the child. I had avoided it, not knowing how to proceed. I can do nothing until the novice is ready, and she has not mastered anything yet.

  “And this makes you safer?” I asked.

  She nodded and said, “Empress Cixi loves the child like her own. She dotes on Lucia and praises anyone who cares for her. She asked me and Muriel—Muriel breastfeeds since she just lost—”

  “May I bite you,” I said, cutting her off. I did not want to lose my appetite over mawkish and human details.

  She nodded and stretched her head to the side, offering her bounty. I took her in my arms, recalling the frail body of my girl; Evelina is changed now, and I do not know if I can hold her as I once did without the embrace invoking my wrath.

  “I’m ready,” she said. “You may feed on me.”

  Her voice of submission, her eagerness, her lack of trepidation lessened my desire. But I was hungry and fed nevertheless. As I drank her in, I thought I must suffer this. I will never again taste the blood I crave. I must learn to enjoy this despite my circumstances.

  Perhaps it is the chase I miss, which makes me indifferent, or perhaps being trapped on this floating prison keeps me from enjoying the willing donors. I cannot say why I am lost, Byron, even if my reasons are obvious. Though I write to you, as you are my confessor and fill my heart and still occupy my mind, you are no longer the soulmate I believed you to be. My true match has been revealed, a fitting partner for this ancient and solitary creature.

  I have yet to record my discovery, for I am not certain I experienced that which I think I did, but I will divulge my secret now. While I fed on the donor, my attention was taken with a signal not unlike my own. At first I thought I was hearing my frequency somehow, but then realized it was coming from outside the cabin. The sound matched mine so perfectly, I thought I imagined it. The sparrow’s echo was relentless and called to me as if uninhibited, yearning to greet me. I covered the girl’s mouth, for she continued to beg me, and I listened to the perfect loop of my own call. It sang to me, seeking me out. Frozen where I stood, I could not bring myself to open the door and witness the arrival of the one who had been made for me.

  “Tell me why our signals are not the same,” you had asked me all those years ago, “since I carry your venom.”

  “Because no two frequencies are alike, my love,” I had said. “They are equatable to human DNA. They assure us of our uniqueness.”

  I could not know the truth before now, for my equal had not come until this very moment. I left the feeble girl on my berth and headed out to find my counterpart, the one for which I was made.

  I had to focus on the loop just to stay above the other sounds and frequencies that seemed to want to block my way. I sank lower into the ship, going down several levels to steerage. The cause for chaos in the lower passageways could only be one, a ritual battle was in progress. I pushed past the vampires rushing toward the ring. I was uninterested in seeing the two fighting in the hold, having avoided Cixi’s boorish clan since boarding. I thought letting her vampires satisfy their brutal nature was asking for all kinds of trouble, but I would never tell her so.

  I lost the sparrow for a time, as a mix of ill-tuned sounds came at me. But I was not one to lose focus for long, and I closed my eyes to bring the sound back to me. When everything fell away, and the sparrow chanted anew, I headed toward it. I entered the compartment from the mezzanine above. I did not need to push my way through the crowd, for they peeled back when they saw me coming. The sparrow was all I heard, as vampires catcalled and whistled for the warriors in the ring. When I looked down at the deck below and saw Evelina in the fray, I went blind with rage, no longer attuned to anything but the imagined voice of my girl, begging me to save her. The compartment hushed, as I swooped down to the metal deck and sliced the head off the vampire who loomed over her. I would not deliberate, or consider the consequences; he needed to be gone.

  When I looked at Evelina, I saw the face I had memorized, my source of solace over the last few months. Her smile and eyes and blushing cheeks welcomed me with their familiarity. “Are you all right?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said.

  I told her to get up. I wanted to pick her up myself and carry her to safety, but I could not show favor or reveal her weakness to the taunting crowd. The vampires would not take kindly to her if deemed incapable. The damage I had already done by killing her attacker was reason enough for concern.

  When Peter arrived with Zhi, I signaled for him to take her away and he obeyed, pulling her out before a second bout of chaos erupted. Zhi was not happy about losing one of his soldiers.

  “Zuì hao de,” he said.

  “I doubt he was your best,” I said.

  Zhi ranted for a time, ignoring the calls of the vampires above us, but I pacified the boatman, assuring him I would fill the position his soldier had vacated.

  “Ni, Gu yi?”

  “Yes, me,” I said.

  He smiled and clicked his teeth, pulling on his opium pipe. He stuck out his hand to clasp mine. My offer pleased him, for he could not wish for a greater warrior than me.

  It was a false offer, of course. I do not plan on staying aboard the Empress’s ship longer than I have to, and I certainly do not see myself serving in her foolish army. I will take what I need and disappear again, out into the treacherous world of bloodless and hunger. Anything is better than being trapped in Cixi’s cesspool. But I will not leave without my counterpart and when I hear the sparrow again, I will discover to whom the signal belongs. The vampire will bend to my desire and follow me wherever I go.

  Later — Peter came to tell me of Evelina’s recovery. He has been as loyal as I expected. I will admit I was s
urprised to find him here. This is no place for a cenobite, and he is far from any monastic life on the ship. But I understand his conflict. He straddles two worlds bound by his religion and the false texts he harbors. I admire him, though. Galla was right to make him hers.

  “Her arm is healed,” Peter said. “But I fear she hasn’t learned self-control.”

  “They are all gluttonous in the beginning,” I said, recalling Byron in the early days.

  “Why are you smiling?”

  I waved my hand at him and said, “Did she heal quickly?”

  “Before even tasting him,” he said. “The moment he entered the cabin, in fact.”

  Her reaction to the donor’s blood was strange, though I have witnessed a similar effect in others a handful of times. “What happened?”

  Peter knew exactly what I asked, and dropped his eyes to the deck when contemplating how to explain it. “She heard his frequency,” he said. “It took over and I couldn’t read anything else—it was as if that was all she heard.”

  I considered what he said before asking him to relay the details of the fight. When he told me she had jumped down of her own volition and run straight for the large vampire, biting into his forearm, I tried to picture the scene, unable to imagine my frail Evelina pulling off such a feat.

  “She was tossed across the deck,” he said. “But was completely unfazed by it and rose to strike back. Apparently she’s incapable of tempering this aspect.”

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “I saw it,” he said. “It was clear how driven she was to save Brice—he’s the skinny one—to put a stop to his torture. She has a penchant for heroism, which is no surprise.”

  He looked at me eagerly, as though expecting me to agree. But he was mistaken. I am not the cause of her bravery. She was brave long before I met her.

  “You admire her still, don’t you?”

  I ignored his question and told him we needed to step up her training. “She is in danger if she cannot defend herself. I have yet to take stock of the vampires aboard, but when I find the right trainer, I will let you know. For now, keep her with you and do not let her into the ring again.”