A Different Hunger

by Lila Richards

  As soon as Doctor Wells entered the cabin, she rose to meet him, gazing deeply into his eyes as she held out her hand in greeting. It was only for a moment, but, as she had told Rufus, the doctor made no attempt to examine him.

  “You certainly do look as though you’re on the mend, now, and if you take things quietly, I should think it won’t be too long before you’re up and about again. But I must say you’ve had a pretty narrow escape. If you’ll take my advice, you’ll steer clear of the decks at night from now on, at least until we’re out of Antarctic waters. The wet planks can be very icy. Now, I expect you’d like something to eat and drink. I’ll ask one of the stewards to bring you something.”

  “No, there’s no need,” said Serafina quickly. “I’ll fetch food for both of us.”

  “Very well. I’ll pop back this evening before dinner and see how you are.”

  “Thank you,” Rufus said, feeling an unexpected stab of guilt at deceiving the man who’d been so kind to him throughout the voyage.

  After the doctor had left, Rufus lay down to sleep. When Serafina made to join him, however, he sat up again.

  “I’d like to sleep alone,” he told her.

  She pushed herself up on one elbow, a look of surprise on her face. “But, why? Don’t you love me any more?”

  “Yes, of course I do.” He longed to be able to find the words to explain to her how he felt, but they eluded him.

  “Is it so terrible,” Serafina asked in a small voice, “to see beauty in the darkness, to taste life more fully than you ever have before, to read minds and shape thoughts, to—to make love as we did? Don’t you find these things beautiful?”

  “Yes, but they’re terrible as well, and the hunger was awful. It was like being eaten up from the inside.”

  “But it won’t be like that again. I promise it won’t. The first time is always the worst.”

  “But feeling it at all, and knowing the only way it can be satisfied is by drinking people’s blood? How can I ever get used to that? Serafina, for most my life I’ve felt a hunger for something, for love, I think. My Mama died when I was eight, and my feeling of being loved died with her. But good God! To hunger for human blood! I knew someone who was addicted to laudanum, and it—it just used him up until he might as well have been dead. How is this any different? Except, I suppose, I am dead,” he ended, his voice bleak.

  The ghost of a smile haunted Serafina’s lips. “Is it really so different from the hunger for food? Blood isn’t a drug, Rufus. It’s our food, that’s all.”

  Rufus looked sceptical. “I don’t believe I’ve ever felt intoxicated after eating,” he said harshly, “but that’s what drinking blood did to me.”

  “Do you mean to tell me you’ve never been intoxicated by wine or spirits?”

  “But that’s different.”

  “Is it?”

  “Of course it is! It’s not made from blood, for a start.”

  Serafina gave him a quizzical look. “But meat is, and you eat that.”

  “That’s completely different, and you know it. Even carnivorous animals don’t drink the blood of their own kind, and neither do people – at least not normal ones. You can say what you like, Serafina, but it isn’t right, and the feelings it induces aren’t, either, however wonderful they might be at the time.”

  Serafina placed a gentle hand on his arm. “You’re still very new, Rufus, and there’s a great deal to get used to. I’ll sleep in my own cabin if that’s what you want, but I’ll come back this evening. You still have a great deal to learn, and it’s my duty as your maker to teach you. And my pleasure, too.” The look on her face almost vanquished Rufus’s resolve. “If I’ve done wrong, I’m sorry, and if you hate me for it. that’s something I must learn to live with. But you do need my help, Rufus, for your own safety, so you must deal with me whether you like it not.”

  “I don’t hate you, Serafina,” Rufus said with a sigh. “I don’t think I could, and believe me, it’s not for want of trying, but I need to deal with what’s happened in my own way, and that means alone.”

  Serafina nodded, looking more resigned than happy with the situation. “You’ll need to hunt tonight, so I’ll come back then, but I won’t stay unless you wish it.”

  After she had gone, Rufus lay down again, pulling the bedclothes over himself from habit, although he no longer seemed to feel the cold. A great wave of weariness engulfed him, and within seconds he was deep in slumber.

  TWELVE

  Rufus woke soon after dusk, physically refreshed, but no clearer in his mind.

  As he sat combing his hair into some semblance of neatness, a knock at the door signalled Serafina’s arrival. She was wearing her favourite crimson silk gown, and it occurred to him for the first time that it was the ideal colour for concealing bloodstains. He looked at her, his eyes taking in the rosy flush that infused her cheeks, her lips as dark and lustrous as cherries. She must recently have fed, he thought, startled by a sudden stab of jealousy towards whomever it was who had had the privilege of giving her the gift of life.

  She came to sit beside him. “Don’t be jealous, Rufus. Those others are mere sustenance. It’s you I love.” She smiled at his look of surprise. “I can read your mind, remember? And very soon you’ll be able to read mine just as well.” She reached out to caress his cheek with her hand. “You must be hungry by now.” Rufus nodded, trying his best to suppress a response that hovered uncomfortably between passion and outrage. If Serafina read his thought, she gave no sign of it.

  “Come,” she said, and took his hand.

  Together, they made their way along the dark corridors between the cabins, both silent as they sniffed at the musty air. From every cabin came the alluring scent and the steady beat of blood coursing through human veins. Rufus felt the hunger rise in him, and the tingling in his gums as his fangs began to emerge in anticipation of satisfying it. But Serafina led him on until, outside one cabin, her mind reached out to his, telling him this was the one, as it held only one passenger, who was fast asleep. Slowly she turned the handle and silently opened the door. Rufus found himself looking into a cabin somewhat larger than his own, and containing two bunks, one above the other. On the lower bunk he made out the outline of a body. A wave of excitement flooded through him, and he crept closer, his senses delirious with the smell of fresh blood and the rhythmic beating of the heart that pumped it through a myriad of tantalising veins. As he crept up beside the bed, he saw the occupant was a woman, her fair hair flowing like sand over her pillow. He bent over her, willing her not to wake, and gently pushed back the golden tresses from her neck. He felt his stomach contract as the hunger took him over. His fangs, now as sharp as daggers, longed to sink into the vein he could see in the woman’s neck. He bared his fangs and lowered his head.

  Only when he raised his head at the insistence of Serafina’s touch did he realise he was looking at Mariah Hamilton, with whom he had danced it now seemed so long ago and in another life. He drew back with a gasp, sickened by what he had just done to her. But her blood raced in his body, filling him with such excitement that as soon as he turned away from her, he forgot his momentary misgivings.

  Back in his cabin, he went immediately to his trunk and took out his mirror. His reflection told him what he’d suspected: the pallid skin of his face was infused with the same flush he’d seen in Serafina’s. He turned to her and gazed into her dark eyes, and the part of him that loved her reached out to her. She answered with both mind and body, and together they fell onto the bed, their mouths locked together in a deep and sensuous kiss. Rufus could taste the blood in Serafina’s mouth as his tongue explored the sweet softness there. Then his hand was sliding up her long legs towards that other sweet softness. He heard Serafina’s gasp as he found what he sought, felt her hands tugging at his trousers as she pressed herself against him. Their need for each other was too urgent for the removal of any but the most necessary garments. With impatient hands, Rufus pushed back Serafina’s petticoats, a
nd then he was inside her, clasping her hard against him, each movement wresting gasps and moans of delight from her open mouth.

  In moments it was over, another hunger sated. In Rufus’s mind, the two had somehow merged, flesh and blood together crying out to feed and be fed.

  As they lay in one another’s arms, Serafina murmured, her lips against Rufus’s cheek, “Do you see how wonderful it can be?”

  Rufus nodded, and kissed her hair. “It still doesn’t seem quite real, somehow.”

  “That’s because you’re not yet used to feeling as a vampire feels. All our senses are heightened, not just those required for hunting.”

  “Did you know that before you were brought across?”

  Serafina shook her head, her soft hair brushing against Rufus’s face. “No, I just wanted to be free of the need to fear men and their animal lusts.”

  “Are we really so dreadful?”

  “Not all, of course. But I’d had more than my fill of the worst of them.”

  Rufus hugged her to him as though to offer the protection she had lacked back then. “Is that why Mr Springer brought you across?”

  “That was part of it, but his consent wasn’t easily won.” Serafina moved against Rufus, snuggling into him like a child seeking comfort. “He believed he was laying a curse on me, but to me it was a blessing. Rufus, you can’t imagine how wonderful it felt to know I need never again let any man hurt me – and that was before I discovered the pleasures of the hunt, the sweet taste of blood, the heightening of the senses. You’ve felt that now, you must know what I mean.”

  “I do.” Rufus stroked Serafina’s hair, teasing out the tangles with absent-minded fingers. “But however enjoyable it is at the time, once I’ve had time to reflect on its cause, I can’t seem to feel anything but disgust.”

  “Even for me?” When Rufus said nothing, Serafina pulled back from him, frowning. “Rufus? Do I disgust you? Do I?”

  Rufus drew back to look deep into Serafina’s eyes. “No, not you. No matter what you are or what you do, I can’t feel anything for you but love. It’s me I’m disgusted with. I’ve done some things in the past I’m not proud of, but this…how can I feel anything but revulsion? You should never have brought me across, Serafina, especially without my knowledge.”

  “Even though you were going to die?”

  “Yes, even so. No one has the right of life and death over anyone else, Serafina. Can’t you see that?”

  Serafina jumped off the bed, her eyes sparking with indignation. “I did it because I love you and wanted to save you! You were going to die, remember?”

  Rufus sat up, staring angrily at her. “You did it for yourself, Serafina, admit it. You didn’t want to lose me, never mind what I wanted.”

  Serafina rounded on him, her eyes filled with angry tears. “Is that so terrible?”

  “It’s understandable, of course, but don’t try to present it as an act of nobility, because it wasn’t. You did it for yourself, not for me.”

  “Why are you saying such things to me?” Serafina demanded. “Surely you can’t deny that being a vampire has brought you wonderful things already. I’ve watched you feed, and I know how much you enjoy it, how reluctant you are to stop, and what about our lovemaking? Don’t try to tell me it wasn’t better than you’ve ever experienced before.”

  “No, of course it was wonderful. When I’m with you, when I drink blood, I feel as if those are the only things I want – the only things I’ve ever wanted, the most glorious, marvellous things in the entire world. But afterwards, when I’m no longer delirious with blood and with you, I feel sickened by what I’ve done. That girl I fed from earlier, Mariah Hamilton? I’ve danced with her, Serafina. I’ve played cards with her, talked with her, yet I didn’t even notice who she was until afterwards. How can you expect me to accept living with that – and living forever, doing it over and over and over again?” Rufus leapt to his feet, his hands clenched. “I’m a monster, Serafina. That’s what you’ve made of me. I wanted your love, and I wanted to give you mine, but…”

  “Oh, Rufus, I’m sorry I was angry with you!” Serafina ran to Rufus and threw her arms about him.

  Overcome with self-loathing and desperation, Rufus thrust her away, snarling like a cornered animal, not realising his new strength until she fell to the floor. He backed away in horror as Serafina scrambled to her feet, her eyes wide with surprise, and a hint of fear. “Don’t hate me, Rufus, please, I couldn’t bear it!”

  “I don’t hate you, Serafina, I’ve already told you that. I just don’t feel over the moon, as you clearly do, with the prospect of hunting innocent people and drinking their blood for the rest of time. How anyone could feel good about that is beyond me.”

  “Then let me help you to understand. Let me tell you about my life, and how I was brought across.”

  Rufus shook his head. “Not now, Serafina. For God’s sake, just go. I need to think, and I can’t do that with you here.”

  Serafina turned away from him, choking back her tears. Then she drew herself up to her full height, put her head in the air and strode from the cabin.

  THIRTEEN

  After Serafina’s departure, Rufus lay down on his bed again and tried to induce something approaching order into the seething mass of half-digested thoughts and feelings that crowded his mind. But he could still smell Serafina, and the scent of her inflamed his senses so that thinking was impossible. He got to his feet and began to pace back and forth, but that only made him feel even more like a caged tiger. Perhaps some fresh air would help. In the act of opening the cabin door, he drew back. What if he was overcome by blood hunger? What if, without Serafina to restrain him, he failed to stop in time, and…? Rufus shook his head violently as though trying to dislodge such a horrific thought, yet he knew all too well it was a distinct possibility. With a hiss of impotent fury, he slammed the door shut again and strode across the cabin to stand by the porthole, scowling and clenching and unclenching his fists. He was trapped! Trapped forever in a nightmare of blood and death and self-loathing, unless he could find some way to kill himself, and, most despicable of all, he didn’t think he possessed the courage for that.

  A knock at the door startled him out of his dismal musings. Thinking it must be Serafina, he strode to the door and wrenched it open, ready to vent his anger on her. But it was not Serafina who stood there.

  It was Springer.

  As Rufus stared at him, Springer inclined his head in greeting. “May speak with you?” Seeing the surprise and fear in Rufus’s face, he added, “No need to be afraid of me, Rufus, I’m not angry with you. Indeed, I believe we have a great deal in common.”

  “We have?” Rufus blurted out in surprise and then swiftly collected his wits. “I—I beg your pardon, sir, do, please, come in.”

  Springer closed the door behind him and leaned against it, arms folded, a faint smile on his lips. “As you’ve no doubt already surmised, I’m aware of what Serafina has done and, believe me, I’m quite as disapproving as you must be. Useless as they are in the circumstances, please allow me to offer my deepest apologies. I wouldn’t have wished such a dire fate on you – or anyone else, for that matter. I think I have a fair idea of what you must be going through, and I’d like to do what I can to make the – transition easier for you than it was for me. So if there’s anything you’d like to ask me, I’m at your disposal. Though I must warn you I shan’t gild the lily as Serafina may have done.”

  Rufus, who had been standing by the bed, his mouth agape with surprise, collapsed onto it. “I—I hardly know where to begin, sir. But – why would Serafina do such a thing to me when she says she loves me?”

  “Ah,” said Springer, a sudden gleam lighting his eyes. “Serafina and I have very different opinions on the experience of being a vampire.”

  Rufus nodded. “Yes, sir, I’d gathered that, but – why? Surely it’s the same experience for both of you?”

  “The difference,” Springer told him, “lies in the interpr
etation – much as it does with human experience, yes?”

  “I—I suppose so, but I still don’t understand why she’d do something so—so…”

  “Drastic?”

  “Yes—and permanent, and without even asking me if it was what I wanted.”

  Springer’s eyes glinted with irony. “Believe it or not, I think she did it precisely because she loves you. She knew I disapproved of her liaison with you, and so she did the one thing she believed would overcome my objections.” Rufus thought back to the argument he’d overheard between them, recalling Springer’s plea to Serafina not to put them in danger, and her impassioned refusal to co-operate. It now seemed they’d been referring to Serafina’s feelings for him. “It wasn’t you I objected to, per se,” Springer went on. “Let me make that clear. Liaisons between vampires and humans can be dangerous for both, but it’s not just that. Such relationships, if they involve genuine love, invariably lead to heartbreak for both parties. Indeed, Serafina herself has experienced this in the past. Vampires don’t age, you see, and, of course, humans do. Then there’s the matter of our radically different lifestyles and—er—habits. And even if the human lover could overcome his natural horror of what we must do to stay alive, others almost certainly would not. In the past, we were hunted down like dangerous beasts. These days, I imagine incarceration in a lunatic asylum would be more likely. Imagine that, Rufus, to be locked up forever in such appalling conditions, deprived of the one thing we must have, reduced to a skeleton covered with skin, yet unable to die.”

  “But I thought vampires had superhuman strength. Couldn’t you just escape?”

  Springer gave an abrupt laugh. “Even vampires have their limits, and asylums are used to dealing with inmates whose very madness lends them great strength, at least temporarily. At any rate, I doubt if such considerations led to Serafina’s decision to bring you across – that’s what we call the process, by the way. I imagine she did it to circumvent what she saw as my unfair objections to her happiness with you.” He gave a rueful shrug. “But then, Serafina always was distressingly self-willed.”