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.”
I smiled at him, exposing my fangs, and said, “I’m ready,” before diving off for a second attempt. I flew through the air, but I don’t think I stayed up any longer than I had the first time. I was clearly doing something wrong, if I was doing anything at all. I rose from the water and climbed the ladder and the tower a third time. I’d obeyed my trainer and let myself float on the fog, but perhaps I was giving in too much. Huitzilli greeted me with a smile but didn’t say a word. I waited before jumping this time, admiring the Toltec’s face. His look was serene, as he gazed out into the night, waiting for me to dive into the darkness. I closed my eyes and listened to his frequency, the low purr of the cat, massaging the air with its vibrations.
It hit me then, I suppose. As I listened to the cat’s purr, I thought of how the jaguar’s low rumble would pierce the air like the hummingbird’s wings, catching the air’s frequency with its own vibrations. One could ride the air like a wave if one knew how to weave between atmospheric ripples. The fog makes it an easier environment in which to learn because the smoke adds substance to the air—something to see and sit on. But my third attempt at balancing myself on the air failed, and when I hit the bay again, my logic sank with my body. I refused to give up, though, remembering the superiority of a vampire’s mental capabilities. This was a trick of the mind, and I needed to use more than instinct to guide me.
When I stood beside Huitzilli a fourth time, he leaned over and touched his shoulder to mine. “You have it now,” he said. “This time for certain.” He exposed his fangs, returning the flirt I’d offered him earlier. His sensual nature was, at times, difficult to resist. “Concentrate,” he said.
I didn’t have time to reason or strategize, for he threw me off again, this time pushing me harder and farther out into the fog. I stiffened my body, as if by instinct, and pulled my arms in since I had no wings to flap. I drew all my physical impulses inside and envisioned them as musical notes on a scale. The best way to explain is that I went into myself—into my mind. I saw nothing but fog, and only heard one frequency, though not my own. Vincent’s faint warble reached inside my head, echoing in my mind like a heartbeat through a stethoscope. With the sound of the sparrow, I pictured the bird’s delicate wings and made them flap with fury. By doing so, the frequency increased its speed and volume, and soon I heard Vincent’s signal as if he were beside me. I can’t say how long I floated through the air, or whether I’d only imagined my flight, but when I crashed into the bay, I did so gently and barely sunk beneath the waterline.
When I floated back up to the surface, Peter yelled from the deck, “I knew you were ready. Yes, yes. You flew like a bird.” He’d read my mind, knowing I was going to ask whether I’d stayed up.
Suddenly, Huitzilli plunged into the water beside me, rising from the depths as quickly as he’d sunk. He roared with laughter, as he floated over to me and picked me up in his arms. He said, “Tepin, you’ve made me proud.”
“How long did I fly?”
“You couldn’t tell?” He asked, genuinely surprised at my question. “Longer than I did my first time,” he said. “You’re quite something, just as the ancient one said.”
“Vincent?” I asked.
“Your vampire—he’s the one whose admiration you’ve gained,” he said, pointing up to the foggy sky. “Did you not sense him with you?”
Of course I’d sensed Vincent. Tapping into his frequency is the reason I succeeded, but I didn’t tell Huitzilli that since I wanted him to believe I’d mastered the flight on my own. I still don’t know how I stayed in the air, but I know that concentrating on Vincent’s signal was, and is, my one strength, if not my only solace.
Entry 8
I wasn’t introduced to pain on the ship. I didn’t think I’d ever experience bodily anguish again. Vincent never talked about a vampire’s physical ache—only suffering. But of course I’d witnessed it myself. When Elizabeth succumbed to the fake blood, she screamed with pain, though Vincent kept silent through his agony. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to endure mine. My skin stings beneath the flesh wounds, despite the animal blood. And my thoughts aren’t as clear as they once were. My writing keeps me focused but only because I’m recalling the past, only because I’m remembering Vincent.
“Vincent,” I said to my abductor a few moments ago when the bout of pain forced me to drop my pencil. I’ve gone out of my mind, suffering in this wretched captivity. “Where’s Vincent?” He ignored me, tossing a small woodland creature at me before unchaining himself and heading out into the sunlight. The blood was barely a taste, and a wretched taste at that. Hal—I dream of Hal’s blood now. I wish recalling it was as effective as the promise a simple taste had been in resetting my dislocated arm. But he’s too far. The ship is too far—Muriel too. And Vincent, once again I’ve abandoned Vincent, lost to a state of exile. Write, Evelina, write the present. Write—all you can do is write—and he will come for you. He will come.
…
Huitzilli took me back down to the bowels of the ship and into the empty ring. The arena seemed different now that I’d learned some things and conquered my fears—well, most of them. He had nothing to use against me, though he found ways to gain the advantage. At one point, the Hummingbird fluttered around me in such a slippery manner I couldn’t get in a single hit. But his evasion only fueled my anger and bettered my attempts. When I landed my first blow, a jab to the left shoulder, both of us stopped for a moment to acknowledge the win.
“Good, Tepin,” he said. “But not good enough.”
And with that, he rose a few feet off the deck and wrapped his legs around my chest and arms, pulling me down like a roped steer. We tussled on the planks, spinning for several rotations before I broke free from his hold and threw myself into the air. I didn’t fly, though, and landed almost instantly a few feet away. I couldn’t use the flight I’d learned above deck, despite how hard I tried. I didn’t have time to control my mind, and his frequency kept hijacking my concentration.
“Inside, Tepin,” he said. “You must go inside and find the wave.”
I knew what he meant, but I was fading, depleted without blood. We sparred for much longer than I’d energy with which to keep up, and I was pinned on my back over and over again. Huitzilli’s final blow was the game changer, though. He reached for my neck, despite my effort to duck and block, and he squeezed it, pulling me up off the deck with him. The Toltec used his magic to sustain us both in flight, defying physics and just about every natural law. But my trainer knew what he was doing, for this particular move gave me exactly what I needed—a free moment to concentrate on the sparrow. As I hung in the air, held up by the neck, I looked into the Hummingbird’s eyes and shut out his cat’s purr. With my gaze locked on his, I went inside my mind and teased out the warble, using an inner cry of my own. The slow rush of the bird was small at first, like the fizz of steam from a radiator, but soon its call vibrated throughout my head and ears and I couldn’t sense anything else.
“That’s it,” Huitzilli said, his voice a murmur somewhere in the background of my auditory sphere.
The sound of the sparrow buoyed me up and soon I had an ulterior strength, a force like nothing else. I tore the warrior’s hand from my neck, ripping his fingers off my throat like they were barely engaged. With his hand still in mine, I twisted his arm back and wrapped it up behind him, using my other arm to lock him in my own chokehold. All the while, I might add, we both still floated above the deck freely. Levitation is only to your advantage if your opponent is incapable of the same. Otherwise, the opponent’s conscious volition can bend the magic in her favor.
Huitzilli wasn’t defeated by my escape, though. He was proud I’d mastered the move he’d been trying to teach me.
Once I had him where I wanted him, he said, “Now what will you do, Tepin?” I hadn’t thought of finishing him off, and I’d no idea how to do it, so I held him in the chokehold, contemplating my options. But my hesitation cost me, for he devised another lesson to teach me and snapped open his mouth, biting into my arms with his iron fangs. Though his teeth didn’t hurt, they cut into my muscles, forcing me to release my hold and drop my arms. He wasted no time, pulling me down from my flight and onto the deck, where he placed the point of a fang at the tip of my eye. I froze, but didn’t shy away from his attack. Like the jaguar, had this been a real fight, he’d have dug his metal canines into my skull and crushed my brain between his teeth. Luckily, we were merely sparring.
Huitzilli retracted his fangs and smiled. He held his face close to mine, as though he contemplated kissing me, but instead he patted me on the head and jumped up, helping me to my feet with his free hand.
All at once, like I’d been in a cone of silence but was now released, the ship’s chaotic rustle shook me, and the mixing and clangor of many frequencies came at me, as vampires filed in to watch the upcoming ritual battle. My body tensed when I heard Mindiss’s feedback. She was up on the mezzanine looking down at me in the ring with my trainer. She scoffed at us and pounded on her chest. Huitzilli wasted no time, leaping up onto the rails and swinging over to where she stood, locking her in his stare. Mindiss didn’t falter but hissed at him.
“Evelina,” Peter said from a door at the side of the ring. “You must come with me.” He gestured for me to follow him, and when I looked back at my trainer and the Fangool up on the mezzanine, they’d both disappeared.
I followed Peter through steerage, up a level to the engine room. I knew he was bringing me to his compartment, but I didn’t know Hal would be there waiting for me. I didn’t give a second thought to Muriel’s message—or Vincent’s order. I wanted Hal’s blood more than I’d wanted anything in that moment, and fell into him before Peter closed the door. I sank into oblivion, bathing my sorrow and injuries with his serum like an alcoholic drowns himself in vino. I let myself get wasted, ignoring Peter when he tried to pull me off the donor.
***
Later. — I had not expected to kill two birds with one stone when I visited Evelina in Peter’s compartment; I fell livid, however, at the sight of her feeding on the den donor. I would have to tell her mentor about her dietary restrictions if she was to conquer the ship’s temptations. He could not know he polluted my Evelina with drugged blood. I tore her from the donor and she practically fell into my arms. Her reaction was surprising, nothing like the shame she had shown in the Empress’s cabin.
I dismissed the donor, and waited for him to shut the door. I admired my novice, her shorn hair was flattering, making her full lips all the more lush. She aroused me and I wanted to crash into her with my whole being, but I steadied myself and asked her to show me her hands instead. She obeyed and held them out, palms facing down. I wondered if she could hear our frequencies as intensely as I could, thrumming in sync like two electric wires. I restrained my smile and brought my hands up to meet hers, our skin fused on contact. If I could have thought of you, Byron, in that moment, I would have. But Evelina had all of me.
“Do you know why I have come?” I used my hypnotic voice, the hushed timber that could induce a stone.
She said, “I don’t care. I’m simply glad you’re here.”
“As am I.” I held her there, on the ledge of ecstasy, knowing she had never experienced anything so sensual in her young life. She probably never will again since I am determined to take her the first chance I get. It used to be her blood, Byron, that drove me wild. Now it is simply her. The sound of our frequencies together is like nothing I have known in my three and a half millennia. Forgive me, Byron, my first beloved, but she is me—Evelina.
“What have I done?” I voiced my anguish only because it was beyond my control to restrain it.
I renewed my purpose and focused on my intended visit. I held her chin and led her gaze to meet mine. I did not want to steal her will; I wanted her to bend to mine freely, but I needed her to obey the tenets I set out. When I saw that she had succumbed to the rapture of my aura, I said, “Listen to me, Evelina. You must obey me now. You cannot drink the blood of any other. Only Muriel’s. Have you heard my command?”
She nodded, and I forced her to repeat it.
“I cannot drink the blood of any other. Only Muriel’s,” she said.
“Yes, my sweet Evelina,” I said. “That is my command.”
I thought I had her completely enthralled but she, in fact, had bewitched me. Please kiss me, she said into my mind. Please touch my skin with yours.
I leaned in closer, drawn in by her spell, and led her mouth to mine, holding our lips slightly apart, keeping us on the edge of oblivion.
We will never forget the kiss we did not share. I saved the moment, vowing to return to it when she is safe and mine—brazenly and forever mine. I left her with the dissatisfied feeling of passion’s abyss, but only for a good purpose, one that would save her life, I did not doubt.
I have planted the seed, and now must wait for the weed to grow—
Peter paid me a visit moments ago, assuring me Evelina is on her way. I have asked him to fetch Gia, not wanting to risk running into my novice in the passageway. She must catch me with the donor in the privacy of my cabin. I cannot know how she will react, but my hopes are set high. Peter briefed me on her visit with the Empress, telling me how she used the child to taunt her. She is only bluffing when she says she plans to sell the baby. She will never give up the child. Muriel confirms her admiration, and I do not doubt a human infant is priceless. Cixi is not stupid enough to relinquish something of such value. She is testing Evelina’s commitment to our child, she is simply using Lucia to get under her progeny’s skin. She is a heartless wretch—an aberration and disgrace to Xing Fu. I must tell the great one when I see—my donor arrives …
Later Still — I am not certain I have the words to record the scene I have witnessed, but I will make it brief. Suffice it to say, my scheme worked, if not better than expected. Evelina has finally shown her talons, and they are spectacular.
When I heard her in the passageway outside the door, I had already wrapped Gia in a trance and had her repeating the mantra: make me yours, drink from me. Her voice sounded like Evelina’s and it pained me to think my novice would recognize my scheme and hate me for it. She stood outside, her signal dominating mine, willing me to her. I could not know, though, whether she was angry at the sound of the donor’s voice. I held off drinking from the girl, which aroused her even more and caused her to speed up the mantra. The temptation was burdensome, but I resisted, as I waited for Evelina to enter. If my plan were a success, we would feed on the donor together.
But my novice never came in and I was forced to draw her out. I did not doubt my act would aggravate her. I whispered to Gia, with a voice that Evelina could hear, “Let me call you Evelina.”
You may think me a monster for torturing my counterpart, but I assure you it was out of love, not villainy.
She threw open the door and stood on the threshold. I pulled the donor closer, tempting Evelina with everything I had. She paused, deliberating what to do, and then I saw the change come over her. Like a feral creature ready to attack, she grit her teeth and rushed the both of us, barreling into me and shaking the donor loose. Gia fell to the deck. I stepped back and watched. I do not think Evelina felt the pinch of her talons shooting out from the tips of her fingers, for she didn’t flinch. She used them, in fact, without acknowledging their discovery. I suppose I could have stopped her and saved the donor, but I wanted the kill as much as her. My body swelled when Evelina stuck her points deep in the girl’s neck, cutting off her scream and uncorking a rush of blood. The ichor didn’t faze her, as she ignored the bounty drooling down the girl’s front. I licked my lips, yearning for a taste.
When she dropped the girl, she held her hands up and examine
d them and then turned to face me. I hid my admiration from her, forcing a scowl.
“What have you done?” I said. “You must go.”
There was no time to relish her success. I pushed Evelina away, threatening her with my anger. It pained me to do it, but I had to get her out. She could not be caught with the dead donor. I had not anticipated the kill, despite my wanting it. I will take the blame, though, knowing her maker will not suffer the loss of a donor lightly.
***
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.
The Journal of Vincent Du Maurier Trilogy (Books 1, 2, 3) Page 37