by E. C. Hibbs
“Less than a month?” I repeated. “Are you absolutely sure about this?”
“Yes,” he said. “Now Father isn’t here any longer, I’ll take no chances on your safety. Mark the date, sweetheart: Saturday the 28th of November. We will go.”
*
In the wake of his declaration, Benjamin duly spent time out of the house, organising for our departure. He wished to keep it as low-key as possible, so there was to be no grand farewell; no party to bid us goodbye. And even though he never outwardly admitted it, I knew another reason was to limit word of it getting to James.
I felt we would not evade the demon that easily – he was sure to still be watching me, and unless we managed the impossible task of abandoning Liverpool in a single day, he would be made aware. However, for the sake of both myself and Benjamin, I kept quiet about it, comforting myself with the fact that I hadn’t seen James anywhere for weeks.
I recalled something he’d said to me in the Overhead Tunnel: how suspicious it would be for me to leave the country so soon after my grandfather’s murder. For a moment, fear of the same idea gripped me, but then I reminded myself of the way Henry had died: arguably completely different circumstances to Norman’s. There would be nothing to point to anyone, least of all Benjamin or myself. The news of our leaving would undoubtedly be a shock to the city, but only on a level of etiquette.
A few days later, I took it upon myself to inform my friends, and beckoned Christine and George one afternoon, inviting them to sit with me in the parlour. When I broke the news, both of them were visibly shocked, with Christine staring at me in stunned silence. I gave her a look of sincere regret, clasping my hands together in my lap.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “I have only known about this myself for a short period of time. I would invite you to come with us and rejoin our household, but I know you have your mother to care for.”
“Why so suddenly, Miss, if I may ask?” George inquired. “Is something wrong, like?”
I forced a smile. “No, of course not. But... Benjamin wishes us to relocate. He is already in talks of our departure. I believe he wishes for a fresh start after the passing of his father.”
George sighed. “Yes, I understand,” he said, though I noticed how his voice was laced with sadness.
I glanced at Christine. She still hadn’t spoken a single word. Noticing the faraway expression in her eyes, I knelt down in front of her, tilting my head slightly to see around baby Norman on her lap.
“Are you alright?” I whispered.
She nodded woodenly. “I’m sorry, Miss.”
“No, I am the one who owes the apology,” I insisted, clasping her arm. “I wish so solemnly that you could come. But I will do everything within my power to ensure your employment is secured before we leave, I promise that. Who would you go to, now Margaret is out of the picture? Would you like to stay here in Weaver House?”
“Very much, if I may say,” replied George. “You’d honestly do that for us, Miss?”
“It is the least of the debt I owe to you both,” I said, standing up.
Christine slowly followed suit. Her glistening eyes grew wide; then she sprung forward and threw her spare arm around me.
“Sorry, Miss, but this has been comin’ for a long time!” she cried into my shoulder.
I grinned softly and eased her away so I could look at her properly. “I will write to you,” I promised. “Not a week will go by without a letter from me landing on your doorstep, my dear friends.”
“Thanks, Miss,” said Christine. “Oh, I’m gonna miss you so much!”
“And I you,” I said, glancing between the two of them. “More than I can say.”
I let them get back to work after that, and made a mental note to tell Benjamin about arranging for them to remain in the house. I decided to let Christine spend as much time with baby Norman as possible, and took myself to the piano, idly working my way through some of the pieces I had committed to memory. I played Mozart and Bach; then finished off with a complete rendition of Für Elise.
Evening drew on and Benjamin finally came home, just in time for dinner. We spent some time in the parlour, sitting together on the couch by the roaring fire, before my eyes grew heavy and I decided to have an early night.
Benjamin glanced at me. “Are you feeling well?”
“Just a little tired. Why?” I replied, taking a long drink of water.
He watched me drain the glass and then place it down on the sideboard.
“How long has it been since Father last took you out?” he asked in an undertone.
My heart skipped a beat, but I forced myself to count back. “About a month and a half,” I replied eventually. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” Benjamin raised an eyebrow. “You mustn’t become ill.”
“I know that,” I insisted. “But, honestly, I can manage. I will take some soon.”
Relenting, Benjamin nodded and then saw me to the bottom of the stairs, promising to join me shortly. I smiled at him from the landing; then shut the door to our chamber behind me.
As I changed into my nightgown, I threw a glance at the window. Outside was completely black, but that didn’t stop me from striding over and yanking the drapes shut, so nothing could see through the glass.
When I climbed between the sheets, I fell asleep almost immediately, feeling myself melt into the soft down of the pillow. For a moment, I hung suspended, and distantly wondered if I was hovering again. I forced my eyes open, half-expecting to see the canopy curtain inches from my face. But that wasn’t what greeted me.
The night was filled with the sparks of torches; all sound composed of the lyrics of Himnusz. Hattyúpatak spread around me, barely silhouetted against the dark forest. And before me was Alexander Farkas, screaming out his words of banishment.
Then fright shot through my veins. All the villagers were behind him; where I should have been. But now he was facing me.
Dread seized me as I spun on the spot. I was enclosed on all sides by writhing demons, their mouths wide, talon-like fingernails raking the air, fangs bared in fury. Bottomless black eyes glared at me as each being tried to force itself closer to the front, desperate to escape the encroaching border that would spell certain death.
I shrieked – but all that came out was a spitting hiss. I recoiled at the noise, joining the struggle to get free. My heart pounded as I tried to call for help.
“Segítsen!” I yelled. “Zíta, where are you?! Anya!”
There was no response except from Alexander.
“Go away!” he bellowed. “In the name of God, leave us, I command.”
I beat at the invisible barrier with my fists. “Nem! I’m not one of them! I am not like them!”
“Oh, yes, you are,” the dark ones suddenly growled in unison. “You are poison, Éva Kálvin... you are just like us...”
“Lunatic...”
“Liar...”
“Harlot...”
“Murderer...”
I screamed, clamping hands over my ears. But then I felt something hot and wet on my face and snatched away, gasping in horror. My palms were slick with blood. And now, when I looked up, the faces of my old neighbours had morphed into those of all the dead I had witnessed. Their throats were each a ravaged mess; eyes rolling and fingers pointed towards me in accusation.
“Murderer,” they all snarled. “You are all by yourself... there is no-one else...”
I lapsed into tears, covering my head in shame. Then I suddenly felt someone grab hold of me and I propelled myself backwards, yelping as I tumbled off the edge of the mattress.
Blinking rapidly, I squinted as a candle was lit and Benjamin leapt after me, kneeling at my side on the floor. He pulled me into his arms, gently rocking me back and forth.
“Hush, it was only a dream,” he whispered. “It’s alright, you’re safe here with me. Are you hurt?”
I looked anxiously around the room. The sight of the
familiar furniture in its usual places helped to reassure, but I still wrenched my hands before me. The skin was pale and spotless, with not a trace of red in sight.
I hid my face in the front of his nightshirt. “Oh, God, Benjamin,” I cried. “What have I done?”
CHAPTER XXX
The next week was the day we were scheduled to leave for Wales. Benjamin explained we would be staying for three days, claiming that should give more than enough time for him to settle matters at the mines and allow me a taste of the countryside. So I passed word of it to Christine, requesting she care for baby Norman while we were away.
I changed into a dark travelling dress and placed a hat upon my head, before heading down to the foyer. By the door lay two large chests packed with our belongings, and the door was already open to allow them to be loaded onto the roof of the waiting carriage outside.
“Are you all set, Miss?” Christine asked, coming from one of the adjacent rooms. Baby Norman was in her arms, and he fiddled with Mirriam in fascination.
“I think so,” I said, alarmed by how crackly my voice sounded. Christine’s brows lowered in concern.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes,” I muttered, forcing myself to ignore the thought of the blood in her body.
When I was sure of my control, I walked over to stroke my son’s cheek. As though reading my thoughts, Christine held him out for me. I smiled in gratitude, hugging him as tightly as I dared.
“You be a good boy, now,” I whispered into his thickening hair. “No tantrums, do you hear me?”
He gurgled, looking up at me with his wide bright eyes. I kissed him all over his face before handing him back to Christine, though I still kept hold of his hand, tickling the palm with my fingertips.
At that moment, I heard the door to the study closing, and Benjamin appeared with George in tow. Both of them placed hats on their heads; then Benjamin went to the umbrella stand and selected a pale cane. I glimpsed the dark one beside it with a stab of remorse. We hadn’t seen fit to throw away Henry’s belongings yet, but I knew that one object would never even enter into consideration.
“Time to go,” Benjamin said, snapping me from my reverie. He offered his arm. “Are you ready?”
I nodded, taking hold of him, letting my grip on baby Norman fade away. “Thank you, Christine,” I muttered. “See you both in a few days.”
Benjamin himself caressed our son, before leading me down the porch steps and into the carriage. George shut the door behind us and climbed atop the driver’s seat. I pressed my face to the window as we moved away, watching Christine and Norman grow smaller and smaller. I raised my hand in farewell, smiling when I saw her wave his arm in response. Then they disappeared amid the barren hedgerows as we turned onto the road.
Before long, we arrived at the station, and Benjamin took me inside while George arranged for our trunks. As always, the place was mad with activity, and I coughed on the strong smell of coal fumes. Several engines were standing ready by the platforms, belching steam into the air. I glanced at them as Benjamin handed over our papers to the booth.
“Jones, for Penmaenmawr. Six o’ clock,” he said loudly, to be heard over the noise.
“Certainly, Sir,” intoned the man behind the glass, and slid three tickets towards us. Benjamin collected them; guided me through the crowds and along tunnels, until we arrived beside one of the streams of carriages. We stepped through the first class door and were taken to a private compartment. George didn’t join us; Benjamin had arranged for his valet to travel separately.
When we were settled, I took off my hat and laid it on the luggage rack. Then I peered out of the window. We were in the underground part of the station, but I could still imagine the great glass and iron roof arching far overhead. The sky would be darkening early, caught in the grip of winter. There were a few minutes before the train was due to leave, but the journey would last through the night, depositing us at our destination first thing in the morning.
Opposite me, Benjamin groaned and slumped back in his seat.
“I wish there had been a train at midday,” he confessed, working his fingers out of his gloves. “I never sleep well on these things.”
“Don’t stress yourself,” I said. “We will be coming back in the day, won’t we?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “Oh well. At least we’ll be getting there.”
At that moment, the whistle blew from the engine, and we jerked into motion. Almost immediately, darkness enclosed us. Our route would take us through the Mersey Tunnel before turning south along the length of the Wirral peninsula; then west into the hills of Wales.
I smiled, removing my own gloves and coming to sit next to him. He put his arms around me and angled my head so he could press his lips to mine. I closed my eyes, running my fingers along his cheek. I felt his grip on me tighten and the kiss became deeper.
But then I caught the sudden sound of his heartbeat intensifying, sending blood racing through his body. Painful need flared in my throat.
“Stop!” I cried, flinging myself away and turning my face to the wall.
Benjamin wisely didn’t come after me. “Are you alright?”
I nodded, one hand over my mouth. My breathing came hard and fast, and I focused intensely on the pattern of the upholstery to distract myself.
It took a while for the urge to die down, but I managed it eventually and turned back to him. He gave me a knowing glance; then rung for service, requesting water. A member of staff carted some to us immediately, and Benjamin shut the compartment door while I drank, desperate for relief.
“You’ll have to do something tomorrow,” he declared softly. “This could get dangerous if you leave it much longer.”
“I know,” I said. “I will. I just...”
“It’s for the best, Éva. I know you despise doing it, but you must.” Benjamin adjusted one of his cufflinks. “Would you like me to not be next to you? Would that make it easier?”
I gave a regretful smile of confirmation, frustrated at how I couldn’t be close to him. I wanted so much to be able to continue that idyllic kiss.
Deciding to stretch my legs and get away from him for just a little while, I finished off my glass of water and squeezed his hand before slipping out into the corridor. The windows were completely dark and electric lamps had been lit along the walls. There were a few other people milling about, so I turned the other way, heading in the direction of the engine to be as far as possible.
I winced as a spasm of pain coursed through my mouth, and took hold of a compartment’s handle for support. I jumped when it twisted and the door slid open.
“I’m so sorry,” I said quickly for the intrusion, “It was an acci –”
“I’m sure it was.”
Recognition fired inside me. I looked up and drew in a gasp, for before me stood a lean curly-haired figure. My eyes met a penetrating black gaze; then an invisible force clamped around me, pulling me past him and into the compartment. I was stopped just before I could hit the wall, and spun on the spot.
“Don’t you dare scream,” James warned; standing in front of the door so there was no chance of escape.
I surveyed him, trying to keep my fright from showing. He was dressed smartly, in a jacket which I recognised as being part of his police uniform. The mist was flowing out from around his ankles like snakes. His arms were held at his sides in an almost nonchalant manner, but his face writhed in a way I had never seen before: a strange mixture of fury, and something else which I couldn’t name.
He slid the door closed behind him, cutting us off.
“What are you doing here?” I cried. “How did you get in?”
“Shadowing,” he replied, as though it was the most obvious answer in the world. “I thought you might have known better than to travel through the night.”
He took a step forward, and then another. “You betrayed me.”
I gritted my teeth. “No harm has come of it. Henry was trying to find you for long
before he exposed himself to me. I had no hand in that!”
“The reason no harm has come of it, as you say, is because I put an end to him before he could say or do anything against me,” James snarled. He was now within touching distance. I forced myself to not shrink back, but could feel my hands trembling, and hid them in the folds of my skirt.
“And you blackmailed me,” James continued, drawing so close that I could feel his freezing breath on my cheeks.
“How?” I demanded. “I’ve done nothing of the sort!”
“You claimed that child was my son, when you can prove nothing. You don’t know whose he is, do you? Admit it!”
“No, I don’t! But I told you that same fact over a year ago, and you still claimed to let me go!” I shook my head. “He has your hair!”
James scoffed. “Nine out of ten babies are born blonde. And your husband’s colour is only a few shades different from mine. Hardly proof of anything, Éva.”
“But yet it still seemed to affect you!” I snapped. “And you have blackmailed me many times over! You used me as a tool all this time, and you lied to me! You always knew I didn’t have to kill; you knew you could turn me back at coming of age! But you never told me! You never planned to! You would have let me die, wouldn’t you, so I could share that noose-scar you have before the venom finishes me off!”
Overcome with passion, I raised a hand and flung it towards him. But before I could make contact, his will seized me and pushed me back against the window. My arm stayed pinned above my head. I struggled to get free, though to no avail, and James completely closed the distance between us. His eyes were blazing, though not with fire. It looked as though he was struggling to keep tears at bay.
“Jack. Wotton,” he said slowly, leaving notable pauses between the words. “There, Éva. I allow you my lone truth. That is my true name.” He gave me a piercing look. “So use it if you wish. Say it aloud, and cast me into agony. I dare you.”
I stared at him, my mouth agape. He had just given me access to the most vulnerable part of his entire being. But despite all rationality ordering me to yell it at the top of my voice, I couldn’t bring myself to even whisper it.