by P. L. Kurup
“Can I be of service to you, sir?” she asked politely.
“No, thank you, mademoiselle,” he replied. “You should go home. Paris is not safe.”
The woman refused to leave and Samuel feared her life was in danger. So he clasped her arm, and pulled her back the way they came.
“You are hurting me,” she complained.
Samuel ignored her and didn’t stop until he thrust her against the wall of her house. “Do you know how dangerous it is here? Do you?” he scolded. The girl blubbered and he restated, “Be wary of those around you. We’re not as gallant as you think.”
He walked away and felt her reel at his rejection, but knew he did the right thing. He spent the next few hours looking for Lucas, but without success. It was in contrast to the previous few weeks where Lucas was detectable everywhere. Before he rested for the night, he debated whether Renard was still in the city, the surrounding countryside, or any place within a hundred miles from where he was.
xxx
Samuel woke the next morning, and looked for Lucas as soon as he could. Like the day before, he didn’t leave the lowliest house or the grandest mansion unsearched. The vampire couldn’t be found, and this led Samuel to reaffirm his belief that Lucas was no longer in Paris. It meant there was no point staying in a place that brought him so much suffering. So he ambled to the edge of town, and walked down the road with no clue as to where he was going.
The more he walked, the more the polluted, grime-ridden atmosphere was substituted with clean, fresh country air. The subtle swaying of branches proved a welcome distraction from noisy Parisian traffic. Above all, he relished the absence of citizens celebrating the deaths of hundreds of thousands.
xxx
Half a day’s walk later, he arrived at a seashore bustling with merchants selling their goods. He ambled across the soft, sandy beach, and his eyes turned black as he craved blood. Fisherman reeled in herring and mackerel, and unloaded their catch into baskets. In the split second their backs were turned, Samuel lifted a container, and tipped the bloody sauce at the bottom into his mouth. He put the basket back on the shore, and saw a ship tied up in the quay.
The colossal vessel was sixty-five metres in length, its many sails blustering in the wind like an unruly child. Well-dressed men and women entered the ship twittering in Spanish, and Samuel studied them with intrigue. Among them was a young woman wearing a gold dress with long raven hair that draped around her shoulders. She was a stunning creature, and Samuel fixated on her. He crossed the beach barefoot, and followed the stream of happy strangers on board. As he approached the doorway, a hand crossed in front of him, blocking him from going inside.
“Where do you think you’re going?” asked a ship’s steward, donned in uniform.
“I’m with the lady in the gold dress,” answered Samuel.
“I see. What is her name?” demanded the steward.
The lady turned to him with a grin. The first thing he noticed about her was that she had almond-shaped eyes, and a slight tan which enhanced her already stunning features.
“What is her name?” prompted the steward.
Prying into her mind, Samuel learnt of her parents’ death at age nine, and the time she attended her first ball. Woven between these memories was someone addressing her as…
“Isabella Diaz.”
The woman sauntered to Samuel and answered, “Yes, it is. My name is Isabella Diaz and this man is with me.”
The steward looked at Samuel with distrust. Before he voiced his concerns, she pulled Samuel onto the ship. They climbed a set of winding stairs and reached a spacious upper deck with wooden chairs scattered about. Isabella and Samuel stood by the deck wall, gazing at the pier as the ship pulled away. Somehow, leaving France was accepting his sweetheart was truly gone. Instinctively he knew that one day he would come face-to-face with her murderer and annihilate him.
Chapter 10
Isabella guided Samuel through the warren of corridors spanning the ship. Her gloved hand preventing her from feeling the coldness of his skin. He followed her without comment, flattered that such a pretty woman had come to his aid. He knew where to go even though he’d never set foot on the ship before, and almost told her to turn right instead of left, as it would cut their journey time by six minutes. The ship was stifling and beads of sweat covered her forehead and neck, but she neither slowed down nor stopped, and he smirked at her steadfastness.
When they reached a faded yellow door on the starboard side, she opened it and walked through, pulling Samuel with her. While she shut the door, Samuel looked round the surroundings. The ceiling was a millimetre above his head, and the only light came from a solitary circular window. Edged to one side of the room was a tiny cot draped in a mauve blanket, and on the other side, a dressing table with perfumes and powders perched on it. Since he cast no reflection in the mirror, he strode to the bed and sat down on it before Isabella discovered the anomaly. The wooden frame creaked under his weight, and he shuffled twice before he was comfortable.
“The bed is old,” Isabella said, sitting next to him. “But very pleasant nonetheless.”
Staring into his cobalt eyes, she became transfixed by their quietness. The last woman to look at him in such a way was Alexandra, and he tugged at his clothes, uncomfortable with her confidence.
“Who are you?” she asked him. “Why did you come here?”
“My name is Samuel, and I came on board because the ship fascinated me. But I have outstayed my welcome.”
He stood up and opened the door a fraction, when Isabella slammed it shut.
“Where will you go? We won’t see land for weeks,” she said firmly.
Samuel peeked out the window to find the blue waters of the Mediterranean stretch out for miles. He contemplated leaping back to shore, with his new skills he could do it.
“There’s no reason for you to go back, senor. She won’t be there, and no one will care for you.”
Her remark was uncannily accurate, and he wondered how long it would take for her to learn the truth about him.
“You need to change for dinner,” she said, breaking his concentration. “Before you say you’re not hungry, you should bear in mind I don’t know anyone on board apart from you, and would be grateful for your company.”
She opened a mahogany chest tucked under the cot, plucked a man’s black suit and shoes from inside, and threw them on the bed.
“They belonged to my brother, but I think they will fit.” Isabella left the room, closing the door after her.
“What am I doing here?” Samuel yelled after she’d gone.
xxx
He lingered for twenty undecided minutes, then changed into the suit and shoes she provided. The sleeves were too short, and it was tight around the shoulders, but he was glad to be in clean clothes again. Bracing himself, he stepped out of the room, and followed the crowds of upper-class Spaniards weaving through the ship. Having grown up in distinguished circles he mingled well with the group, and no one suspected the hell he’d been through over the past few weeks. The carpets he trod on were worn thin from use and the walls were covered with portraits of ports from around the globe. India, China and the Americas were a few places he identified. It suddenly dawned on him he didn’t know where the ship was heading to. So he read the flurry of thoughts cascading through the passengers’ minds and picked up: I must remember to buy Mama a present when we dock in Madrid.
“Madrid,” he exclaimed, elated at visiting an enigmatic new land.
A group of ladies glanced his way, and offered him gentle smiles. If he were human, blood would’ve rushed to his cheeks, making him blush. As an immortal, such reactions were absent, and he saved face by dipping his chin to his chest. A sophisticated woman in a soft red dress sauntered his way, and almost touched his shoulder, when Isabella hooked her arm around his and diverted him to a corner.
“I didn’t think you would turn up,” she said with joy.
“Didn’t you say you’d
be grateful if I accompanied you?”
“Yes, I did. I did say that.”
She held on to him and followed the others through the vessel’s intricate passageways. The longer they strolled, the more familiar they seemed in each other’s company. He noted that her face lit up, her breathing quieted down, and her heart rate settled. No doubt, all because of him.
The couple turned one final corridor, and entered a grand dining room with tables arranged side by side. Silver cutlery and crystal decanters embellished the place settings, their sheen making him squint. Samuel and Isabella took their seats, as did the rest of the guests.
“The chef is one of the best in Spain. We’re lucky to have him,” Isabella commented.
Samuel delved into the chef’s mind and found him an idle man who did nothing while his assistants toiled.
“I’m sure you’re right.” He smirked.
Twelve waiters carrying plates of mouthwatering food paraded into the room and placed the dishes in front of the guests.
“Chef Sebastian hopes his food delights your taste buds,” stated the head waiter.
Samuel was reminded of the decadence at the chateau and shook his head at how he took it all for granted.
“The meal looks delicious,” observed Isabella.
While she and the rest of the room tucked into lamb, fish, and lobster, Samuel alone refrained from eating.
“Is the food not to your liking?” enquired a man sitting opposite him.
Unlike Isabella, the man spoke in his native Spanish, a language Samuel was unfamiliar with until now.
“I ate before boarding the ship, senor,” Samuel answered in Spanish.
Isabella chocked on a carrot when she heard him speak, coughing nonstop before she was well.
“When did you learn to speak Spanish?” she asked frazzled.
Samuel was clueless on how he could speak the dialect.
“I learnt it a… a while ago,” he dithered.
“Guessing by your accent, I’d say you’ve been conversing all your life. I had no idea you were so good at speaking my language,” she replied.
“There are lots of things you don’t know about me, senorita.”
He kissed her hand, creating a stir amongst his many female admirers.
Samuel watched them eat course after course like greedy buzzards tearing up flesh. They wallowed in so much food they looked as if they might throw up. To him, it represented the piggishness of the human race. Soon, it wasn’t the smell of the food or the manner in which they consumed it that bothered him, but that less than a month ago, he was just like them. A man too selfish to think about anyone else. He stood up, forcing his chair back, and the guests stopped gorging themselves.
“I am very tired, so I will see you tomorrow,” he said.
“I will come with you,” Isabella responded, about to join him.
“No, I want to be alone.”
Isabella balked at his rejection while his fans smirked in triumph. Samuel bowed to them all and left the room.
On his way back through the corridor, he reminisced about his wedding, which had required three hundred pheasants, a hundred bottles of wine, two thousand flowers, and the attendance of a hundred staff. All of which took place while his fellow countrymen starved. He understood now why the commoners hated him. He reached a darkened passageway and pressed his forehead against the wall, incapacitated with guilt.
“Samuel, calm yourself,” a woman said.
“Alexandra?”
Turning sideways, he saw Isabella standing next to him.
“Leave me alone,” he murmured.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You need to rest, and you can’t do that here.”
“I won’t sleep in your room. I hardly know you.”
“Then where will you sleep? On deck? You’re not supposed to be here, so you can’t afford to ignore my hospitality. Come with me, Samuel. Come with me.”
As her hands grasped his sleeves, he rolled his eyes and followed her back to her room. When they reached the buttery-coloured door of her cabin, they strolled inside, and she closed and bolted the access. In the short time she had her back to him, Samuel lay on the uncomfortable floor, far from the bed. She said nothing about his weirdness, changed into her night clothes, and got into the cot. The couple lay staring at the ceiling as an uneasy silence invaded the room.
“When we dock in Madrid, I will leave you forever,” he told her.
“If that is your wish,” she answered, a tear rolling down her cheek.
The sound of the ship swaying against the water sent Samuel into a deep but troubled sleep.
xxx
In the early hours, his head twitched from side to side. His body shook so viciously that the floorboards juddered and cracked. Soon his eyes opened to reveal a familiar murky blackness, and he jumped to his feet. Striding across the tiny chamber, he yanked open the door with such force he tore away the lock. The noise didn’t wake Isabella, and he left the cabin without her knowing. He smelt the blood of hundreds of sleeping humans. Picking them off one by one would be child’s play and would satisfy his thirst for at least three days. Even without opening the doors, he could identify those inside. For example, in the first room slept a man and his elderly mother, in the middle room were three teenage brothers, and in the second to last room, a mother and four young children slept. Samuel salivated, listening to the delightful movement of their bodies. The longer he stayed near the rooms, the hungrier he became. He clasped his hand around the nearest doorknob, when he was distracted by rats scurrying in the distance. Grunting, he filed down the corridor to investigate.
His journey took him to the dining hall, where leftover crumbs provided ample food for the pests. After watching seven vermin feed from the table, he sprang at one, missing it by a hair’s breadth. He chased it into the kitchen, knocking several pots and pans to the floor, then up a winding staircase which brought him to the upper deck. Samuel saw the rat perch itself by three crew members. Hunger eliminated caution, and he pounced on the vermin, grabbing ahold of it. The men never noticed, and Samuel retreated to the maze of corridors with the rat cupped in his hands. When he was alone again, he dug his fangs into the animal’s neck and drank his fill.
No one heard him feed. No one was aware a vampire lurked among them.
Chapter 11
For weeks, the ship bounded toward Madrid, and in that time, Isabella and Samuel maintained a friendly and platonic relationship. Smiles were exchanged, and gentle pecks were given on faces. No one had seen him eat during the journey, and he heard snide comments circling amongst the passengers. The only exception being Isabella, who said nothing.
Then, one morning, Samuel saw the first glimpse of land, and a flurry of excitement inundated the ship. The passengers rushed about, getting their things ready, as the crew prepared the ship to dock at Madrid harbour. A landscape of mountains and rocks came into view followed by the city itself, which resembled one of Monet’s masterpieces. Samuel and Isabella watched the town from the lower deck as passengers dashed by on either side.
“Welcome to my home,” she said.
She leaned in, and Samuel stayed still, allowing her to get as close to him as she liked. Her lips pressed against his, and she shuddered at the chilliness of his skin, but she only pulled away when a full and thorough kiss had taken place.
“That was a friendship kiss not a farewell kiss,” she said cheekily.
Samuel looked to the front to see a bustling port full of people and horse-drawn carriages.
“Your luggage,” a crew member said, dropping her trunk at her feet.
“My servants will carry that. So all that’s left is for you to accompany me.” Samuel’s face sank. “I know you said you were going to leave me, but some promises are meant to be broken.”
She forged ahead and he shuffled alongside her, choosing to enjoy her outspokenness a little longer. They stepped ashore on a dull, overcast day, and approached a carriage teamed by four Andalusian t
horoughbreds. A stylish manservant in top hat and tails opened the door for Isabella.
“Good to see you again, Mistress,” he said.
“Good to see you too, Miguel. You need to eat more. You’ve lost weight since we last met,” she replied.
Isabella boarded the coach, followed by Samuel, and Miguel shut the door. She sat close to Samuel, and it was good manners that stopped him from taking the seat opposite. He heard the trunk being boarded on to a rack above the carriage, and the servants climbing atop the driver’s seat. As the carriage moved on, he spied limestone buildings, and shops selling everything from food to carpentry tools. Though the day was cold and damp, the locals were cheerful and busy, the capital exuding a happy buzz that Paris seemed to lack.
The vehicle turned a corner, and a pretty manor house with marble pillars on either side of an entranceway came into view. The dwelling was a quarter of the size of the chateau, and had no fountains or lakes on the grounds. The smell of gardenias and lilies saturated the air with an intoxicating perfume. The carriage stopped by the door, and Samuel leapt from the coach, splashing mud on his polished boots.
Without asking her permission, he plucked Isabella from her seat and carried her across the filthy courtyard. She stared at him the whole time, and he knew that she was falling in love with him. He set her down in the foyer of her home and removed his dirt-covered footwear.
“You lifted me without any effort,” she gasped. “You must be strong.”