A Different Hunger

by Lila Richards

  “Yes,” said Rufus, “I can understand that. When were you brought across? You never told me.”

  “I was going to,” Serafina said, “but you didn’t want to listen.”

  “I was too angry before, but I’ll listen now if you’d like to tell me. I do want to understand.”

  “Very well, but I must warn you my story contains some very wicked humans.”

  Rufus smiled. “I suspected as much.”

  SEVENTEEN

  Serafina settled herself more comfortably on the bed, facing Rufus, her legs tucked under her voluminous skirts. “I’ll begin by telling you a little of my early life, as it has some bearing on later events. I was born in Moscow in sixteen-ninety-five, and was named after my mother, who died giving birth to me. My father was a talented musician and composer, from which he made a reasonable enough living by touring Russia with one of the minor orchestras. After my mother died, he hired a nurse, Katya, who travelled with us and took care of me. I came to love Katya as though she were in fact my mother, and by the time I was ten I’d travelled widely, met all sorts of interesting people, and was in a fair way to becoming an accomplished singer. Then, shortly after my eleventh birthday, my father contracted influenza. He quickly developed pneumonia, and within a fortnight it took him from us.

  “When several of the other musicians also fell ill, Katya was afraid we might succumb, so she took me back to Moscow to my Aunt Anya – my father’s elder sister – and her husband, my Uncle Sergei. My uncle was very wealthy, and he and my aunt had an elegant town house as well as an estate in the country, so when Uncle Sergei agreed to take me in, Katya felt she’d done very well by both of us. However, my uncle quickly dismissed her, saying I no longer needed a nurse. So, for the first time in my life I found myself alone.

  “But Aunt Anya treated me kindly, and I soon came to love her. Uncle Sergei was away from home a great deal, but when he was there, he, too, seemed kind, sitting me on his knee to offer me sweetmeats or trinkets he’d brought back from his business trips, and calling me his little blackbird, because of my hair. He also loved to hear me play the piano and sing. Gradually, the pain of my loss began to fade and I settled into my new life.

  “Soon after my thirteenth birthday, however, my new world was also shattered.

  “Uncle Sergei had been away on business for several weeks, and during this time I became aware that Aunt Anya was becoming increasingly unhappy. I’d walk into a room to see her hurriedly tucking her handkerchief away, her eyes red from crying, and she’d snap at me over the slightest thing.

  “Late one night, long after I’d gone to bed, the sound of Uncle Sergei’s carriage clattering into the courtyard in front of the house woke me. Shortly afterwards, I heard Aunt Anya’s voice. This surprised me, since he was often out late, and she never waited up for him. For some time I could hear their voices, apparently raised in anger, but my room was too far away for me to make out what they were saying. Much later, I learned that Aunt Anya had discovered a letter in a coat of my uncle’s that she was taking to be mended – a letter from his mistress.

  “She was so shocked by his betrayal that although they continued to live in the same house she refused to have anything more to do with him. She refused even to speak to him, let alone share his bed. His mistress, a highborn lady, also rejected him, fearing the scandal their continued liaison might now bring.

  “At the time, of course, I knew nothing of all this, only that an unaccountable pall of anger and sadness hung over the house. As time went on, this took its toll on me, and I fell into a great melancholy. One evening, Uncle Sergei came home to find me sitting on the staircase, crying.

  “ ‘Why, what’s this?’ he cried. ‘Why is my little blackbird so sad? Dry your eyes, my sweet. Come and see what I’ve brought you.’ From his pocket he drew a tiny painted lead figure and held it up for me to see. “Come and give your Uncle Sergei a kiss, and you shall have this pretty little princess.”

  “I knew Russia had its own princesses, but I’d read all about princesses in fairytales, and they were my idea of a real princess, so I wiped away my tears with the sleeve of my gown, and went to my uncle to see which of these he’d brought me. To my surprise, he caught me up into a strong embrace and kissed me full on the lips. However, I got my little princess – as near to a true fairy princess as any I’d imagined – and went to bed happy, thinking no more about it.

  “Not long after that, he began coming to my room after I’d gone to bed to hear my prayers and kiss me goodnight. I was surprised, but not alarmed. Aunt Anya had retreated almost entirely to her room, so I assumed Uncle Sergei was trying to make up for her lack of attention.

  “During the summer, my aunt and uncle used to go to Uncle Sergei’s dacha, his house in the country, where the heat was less oppressive, and where he could hunt and fish. This summer, Aunt Anya refused to go, so Uncle Sergei declared we should go without her. I wasn’t very happy with this, since I sometimes found my uncle a little intimidating, but there was nothing I could do about it. To my surprise, however, I had a lovely time there. I milked cows under the tutelage of Ivan, my uncle’s aged retainer, picked vegetables and fruit from the garden for dinner and helped his equally aged wife, Alena, who looked after the house, to make bread. Best of all, I was allowed to play the harpsichord that stood in a corner of the parlour.

  “Uncle Sergei spent most days out hunting or fishing, returning in the late afternoon carrying a couple of rabbits, or perhaps some fish, for our supper. After supper we’d play cards, or I’d play and sing for him. To my great delight, he allowed me to stay up late. However, the nightmares that had begun after my father died still haunted me sometimes. On one such night, I woke to find Uncle Sergei sitting beside me on the bed, stroking my hair. ‘I heard you cry out,’ he said. ‘You had a bad dream.’ He kissed me and made to leave, but I was afraid to be alone. So Uncle Sergei picked me up and carried me to his bed.

  “After that, when bedtime came he’d ask me whether I felt up to sleeping alone. Somehow, although I was uncomfortable about sharing his bed, I felt that to refuse would seem ungrateful. I was very innocent, despite my unusual life with my father, so I went along with what he was careful to represent as his wish to protect me from my fears. Before long, however, his true motive became clear. He began a sexual relationship with me. It began very gradually – I think he wanted me to believe it perfectly natural for him to comfort me in this way. But I didn’t. In all the time I’d travelled with my father, he’d never done anything of the kind.

  “With Uncle Sergei, I felt terrified. How could he hurt me so, and say it was because he loved me and wanted to take away my fear? After a time, though, I stopped crying when he hurt me. I hated what he did, and I hated him for doing it, but I somehow learned to go into a secret place where I felt nothing at all. It didn’t stop him, of course, but it made it a little more bearable. Naturally, I wasn’t to tell Aunt Anya, as she wouldn’t understand how truly innocent our ‘little secret’ was. Indeed, I couldn’t tell anyone. How could I risk Aunt Anya becoming as angry with me as she was with Uncle Sergei? Besides, by now I was too frightened of him to go against his will.

  “As time went on, my uncle’s demands became more frequent – and more unpleasant. I loathed him with all my being, but I felt powerless to escape, and I loathed myself for being such a weakling. How I longed to see my father again, or Katya.”

  Tears welled up in Serafina’s eyes, and Rufus put his arms round her, stroking her hair soothingly while she sobbed out her grief.

  At length she turned her face up to his. “Thank you,” she said, with a smile that all but melted Rufus’s heart.

  “Please, don’t go on if it causes you pain.”

  Serafina shook her head. “Thank you, but they’re old tears, and should have been shed long ago.”

  She went on, “When I was about eighteen, my uncle fell ill, and at last I had respite. At first, I simply luxuriated in the freedom from his visits, but when he began t
o be on the mend, my terror returned even worse than before. I was desperate to escape, but had no idea where I could go that my uncle wouldn’t find me. I knew no one now except friends of my uncle and aunt, and I had no money of my own.

  “One evening, a foreign gentleman called at the house demanding to see my uncle. Uncle Sergei’s manservant, Petrov, told him the master was too ill to see him, at which the gentleman declared he would wait until he was well again, as he was owed a great deal of money. Petrov begged me to deal with the visitor, since he dared not pay out the master’s money and the man refused to leave without it. I knew it was useless to send Petrov to Aunt Anya, so I agreed to talk to the visitor. Over tea in the parlour, he told me he’d been involved in some financial speculation with my uncle, who was refusing to pay him his share of the proceeds, despite several entreaties by correspondence, forcing him to come in person to retrieve the debt. I knew Uncle Sergei was a miser, both with the household expenses and the servants’ wages, so I had no difficulty in believing the visitor. Besides, I’d begun to formulate a plan. It was risky, but if it worked I’d be free of my uncle and have money as well.

  “ ‘Very well,’ I told the gentleman, ‘you shall have your money if I can obtain it, but on one condition.’

  “ ‘And what might that be?” he enquired, a faint smile of amusement playing about his lips, though his eyes weren’t smiling at all.

  “ ‘You must promise to take me with you. And you must promise not to touch me.’

  “ ‘That’s two conditions,’ he pointed out, smiling, though not unkindly.

  “ ‘Well,’ I insisted, my voice sharp with the fear that he might refuse me, ‘those are my conditions. If you want the money, you must agree to them.’

  “ ‘You must be desperate, indeed,’ he said, ‘to place such trust in a complete stranger.’

  “ ‘I don’t trust you,’ I said, ‘or any other man, but you’re right, I am desperate. And whatever you may do to me, it can’t be worse than what I’ve already endured from my uncle.’

  “ ‘You need have no fears on that score.’ He smiled. ‘My taste, such as it is these days, is for men, not women. Give me my money and I’ll take you with me. Though you mustn’t blame me if you find you’ve jumped from the frying pan only to find yourself in the midst of the fire.’

  “I made Petrov get me the key to Uncle Sergei’s safe. Inside were many, many roubles –more than I’d known existed – in bundles of notes, and a large amount in francs. I counted out the amount my new ally said he was owed, and took what I thought I might need for myself. I went upstairs and quickly packed some clothes in my valise, placing the money underneath them. Then I put on my warmest cloak and my fox-fur hat and ran downstairs again.

  “Five minutes later, I climbed into the gentleman’s carriage and was on my way to freedom. I expect you’ve already guessed that the gentleman was Anton.”

  “When did you realise he was a vampire?” Rufus asked. “And how did you come to be one?”

  “Oh, that didn’t happen for some time. As I told you, I was very naïve, and I just accepted Anton’s unusual lifestyle. We travelled about Europe a great deal, but after my early years with my father it didn’t strike me as odd that Anton lived such an unsettled life. He seemed to have the knack of fitting into any company, and I felt quite safe with him, which was an enormous relief after the previous five years. However, I was growing into a young woman, and I suppose it was inevitable that men should take an interest in me.

  “One night in Paris, we were attending a soiree given by some grand lady Anton knew. He liked to cultivate such people, partly for financial reasons, but also, I think, because, like any true bourgeois, he enjoyed being seen in elevated company. Her salon was filled with the cream of Paris society, and I’d been asked to play the harpsichord and sing for them. I was a great success, and at the dancing afterwards I was besieged by gentlemen begging me to dance with them. Naturally, this flattered me, but although I loved the dancing I couldn’t bring myself to respond to their flirtation.

  “One in particular, who seemed quite old to me, although I suppose he was in his forties, and who reminded me unpleasantly of my Uncle Sergei, was particularly assiduous in his attentions, sending flowers, gifts and invitations to our hotel each day. I returned the gifts and declined the invitations, but it made no difference. I begged Anton to take me away from Paris, and from this Compte de Mar, who was beginning to frighten me with the intensity of his pursuit, but he said he had business to complete there so I’d have to be patient for another week or so. However, he readily agreed to my staying out of society, claiming I was indisposed.

  “One afternoon, I was alone in our salon practising some new songs while Anton attended one of his business meetings, when the Compte de Mar somehow managed to gain entry. I imagine he’d bribed one of the servants – it certainly seemed his style. He must have been standing at the door listening to my singing, and came forward as I finished.

  “ ‘Ah, my dear Mademoiselle Serafina,’ he gushed, bowing over me and kissing my hand in a way that quite unnerved me. ‘How delighted I am to see you well again. I was quite devastated when Monsieur Springer said you were ill. I came at once to extend my condolences. And when I heard such divine singing, why, I was convinced the angels had come to bear you away with them. Imagine, then, my joy at seeing you here as lovely as ever.’

  “From his manner, I felt certain the Compte knew I hadn’t really been ill, as well as the reason for my subterfuge. However, I decided to go along with Anton’s story, hoping I might be able to put him off without arousing his anger.

  “ ‘Why, thank you,’ I said. ‘Indeed, I am feeling a little better, although I believe I may still be infectious.’

  “ ‘Really?’ he asked, lifting one perfectly painted eyebrow. ‘May I enquire as to the—ah—nature of your illness?’

  “Of course, I had no idea what to tell him. It had never occurred to me that he might contrive to visit me. I stammered out something, but I could tell he wasn’t deceived.

  “ ‘My dear Mademoiselle,’ he said, his voice as smooth as polished steel. ‘I do believe you’ve been trying to avoid me.’

  “ ‘Oh, no, indeed, Monsieur,’ I lied, striving to conceal my alarm.

  “ ‘How happy I am to hear you say so,’ he said. ‘I should be quite desolated to think you didn’t wish to see me. Life without my delightful little seraph would be utterly unbearable. And yet,’ he continued as though to himself, ‘I’m not entirely convinced.’

  “ ‘Monsieur,’ I said, anger lending me some degree of courage. ‘I’m sorry if you don’t believe me, but since you don’t, then I cannot imagine how I’m to convince you.’

  “Of course, that was completely the wrong thing to say, as I realised the minute the words had left my lips. A greedy look came into his eyes that made my blood run cold.

  “ ‘Can you not?’ he enquired silkily. ‘I can imagine quite a number of ways, each of them equally delectable. But a kiss will serve – to begin with.’

  “ ‘But Monsieur,’ I said desperately, as he came towards me. “Didn’t I tell you I may be infectious? I shouldn’t wish to infect you, Monsieur. Indeed, I shouldn’t.’

  “ ‘Oh, but my dearest Serafina, you already have. You’ve infected me with love. Why, my pulse races at the very sight of you.’

  “ ‘Oh no, please!’ I cried, backing away from him.

  “But he lengthened his stride and caught hold of my wrists. I tried to pull them away, but he had a surprisingly strong grasp, and he held me fast.

  “ ‘Come, come, my dear,’ he said, his voice becoming as hard as granite. ‘Such coyness does not become you. You must know how much I want you. I adore you, Serafina, and I must have you!’

  “ ‘But,’ I gasped, by now almost speechless with terror, ‘I don’t love you!’

  “He laughed. ‘Oh, but you will, my sweet little innocent. I’ll teach you to love me, and this shall be your first lesson.’

&n
bsp; “He pulled me to him so tightly I could scarcely breathe, and kissed me. Oh, Rufus, it was horrible! In my mind, I was suddenly a child again, and the Compte was my Uncle Sergei. I was so frozen with fear I could do nothing to stop him as his lips and his hands invaded me. I hated him for violating me, but I hated myself even more for being unable to stop him.”

  Serafina broke off, gasping convulsively as the memory overcame her.

  Rufus took her hands in his, stroking them and murmuring soothing words until she regained some calm.

  “Please,” he begged, “don’t upset yourself for the sake of my foolish curiosity.”

  “I didn’t mean to tell you so much,” she said. “But now that I have, I should like to finish. Perhaps it will help me to lay these old ghosts to rest, as well as helping you to understand me better.”

  “Well, only if you’re quite sure…”

  Serafina nodded and took a deep breath. “I don’t know what I should finally have done, but at that moment Anton arrived home. The Compte’s momentary distraction allowed me to break away from him and call for help. In an instant, Anton was in the room. Taking in the situation at a glance, he seized the Compte with one hand in a grip that made him wince, and with his other hand gently pushed me out of the way. I ran to the far side of the harpsichord, as though its solid bulk might somehow protect me.

  “The Compte began a blustering attempt to explain away his behaviour, but Anton quelled him with nothing more than a look. It was quite wonderful to see! Keeping the Compte in a bone-crushing grip, Anton turned to me.

  “ ‘Don’t be afraid, my dear,’ he said. ‘I shan’t let this—creature—harm you. Now, what would you like me to do with him?’

  “ ‘Make him go away,’ I whispered. ‘Please, just make him go away!’