Sepia and Silver (Tragic Silence Book 3)
Page 33
As I knew they would be, they were spotless, though I knew I’d never wash them completely clean. I thought back on my likening to Lady Macbeth, and how true it had all become in the end. Until the end of my life, I would hold secrets which nobody could ever know. They would belong to that part of me which had been tainted and twisted, which would forever lie inside like a dormant parasite.
It didn’t matter that I was no longer a creature of the night. The ability to do what I had done was realised. I was a killer; I could be cold and calculating and ruthless, and just because I hid it well did not mean it was no longer there. After all, even though she had deserved her fate, it hadn’t been vampirism which led me to cast Margaret off without a second look back.
I managed to repress my haunting for long enough to think clearly, and eventually settled on a story very similar to the one Benjamin had woven to disguise our planned departure. Henry had suffered a fatal heart attack, leaving both of us with no kin in England, so we decided to take a fresh start in my old home, where I did still have blood ties. Armed with my excuse, I headed through the city to my cousin’s address, and knocked nervously on the door.
When he opened it, he was clearly amazed to see me, but the shock only lasted a few seconds before he pulled me into a huge bear hug, laughing in elation. He whisked me inside, not wasting a moment of introducing me to his family. I greeted Anette warmly, congratulating her on finding such a wonderful husband; then turned to the little baby in her arms. He was still quite young; I guessed three or four months, but already he looked remarkably like his father.
“His name’s Peter,” Erik said proudly. “Peter Alexander Farkas.”
I stayed with them for dinner, enjoying a plateful of traditional Hungarian food. As usual, Erik didn’t have a hand in it, but I smiled to myself when I realised that Anette’s cooking was remarkably similar to Zíta’s. I wondered if Erik saw that too.
I was a frequent visitor to their house, and we wasted no time in planning some days where our sons could play together. And while it was harder to sneak inside now that my powers of flight and shadowing were gone, I also made several trips to the cemetery. Sometimes my angel was not there, and I was left to simply stare up at the snowy heavens, hands clasped in prayer for all the people I’d loved and lost. But, occasionally, he did meet me, embracing me fondly, as though not a day had passed where we had not been together. Then he would melt away into mist as soon as the cock crowed, until I was alone once again amid the labyrinth of headstones.
I soon received word from Benjamin that he and baby Norman were due to leave Liverpool. Ecstatic from the news, I sought out a toyshop so I could lavish my little boy with presents. I discovered, working on the date of my husband’s letter, they would unfortunately not reach me by Christmas, but I was not fazed. A new fire sang in my blood at the prospect that there would not be long now before we met again. I counted the days, drawing a circle around the 2nd of January, when their ship was due to arrive.
I celebrated my twenty-second birthday quietly with Erik and Anette, allowing them to only gift me a small cake. I knew that, in Weaver House, the event would hardly have been brushed over like this, but I preferred the modest gathering to any kind of party. I was relieved that those days were behind me, when I would have to play the charming hostess, torturing the guests with my atrocious singing. I acknowledged that I was now an adept pianist, but my ability to carry a tune with my voice would never be realised.
Christmas came and went, followed by New Year, and we entered into 1897. It fleetingly occurred to me that the date would probably be rejoiced vigorously back in England, for it marked the Diamond Jubilee of the Queen: sixty years on the throne, and the longest-reigning monarch in British history. It would surely be a sight to see, and I felt a little unhappy that I wouldn’t witness it. But, I reasoned, I had my own cause to nurture excitement for the coming year: in May, my Norman would reach his first birthday.
The day after the festivities, I pulled on my coat and hired a carriage to take me back to Csepel. I was shaking with anticipation, barely able to contain myself as the vehicle trundled through the streets. The centre of the city disappeared behind me, and I arrived early at the port, hurrying to where I had been told Benjamin’s ship would be drawing in. I was disappointed to find it wasn’t there yet, so I distracted myself by buying a roll from a nearby bakery. I chewed on it impatiently, sitting near the lapping water, eyes fixed on the horizon.
Before long, a steamer came into view, and I leapt to my feet, bouncing up and down with excitement. Not being a cargo vessel like the one which had transported me to these shores, it was considerably larger and grander. My heart fluttered when I saw the name on the prow, recognising it from Benjamin’s correspondence.
By this time, more people had arrived to stand beside me, some holding boards painted with the names of whoever they were meeting. I could hardly hold myself back as the ship was moored; thick ropes securing it in position. After what felt like an entire lifetime, gangplanks were lowered, and the passengers disembarked.
The quayside instantly developed into a frenzy of reuniting and greeting, and I struggled to keep purchase on myself, craning my neck to see over the sea of heads. The deck gradually became less crowded as all those on board exited the vessel. For a moment, I feared I had missed my family, but then I noticed a figure appear at the top of the walkway, an infant held securely in his arms.
I gasped in delight, fighting my way forwards through the throng. Benjamin seemed to see me too, because he hurried down the plank, practically throwing his papers to the officer without a care. Finally, I got free of the horde, tears streaming from my eyes, and ran straight into him, throwing my arms around his back.
I wept freely as he drew me close, grip tighter than ever. I didn’t care; it was amazing to have him with me once again; feel his body heat on my skin; smell his mixture of cologne and tobacco. I grasped his face in my hands and kissed him frantically, never wanting to let go.
Soon, however, we were asked to move along by one of the crew members so the gangplanks could be withdrawn. So we descended back to the ground, and wasted no time encasing ourselves in the other’s arms once more. Benjamin pulled me away from the crowd so we had space to breathe, caressing my hair as though it were made of silken threads.
“Éva,” he muttered into my mouth. “Oh, God. Éva, I missed you so much!”
“I know,” I cried, not bothering to wipe my cheeks. “I know, my darling!”
We held each other firmly, relishing how we were together again. It seemed to me as though an entire age had passed since we had last done this, and I realised truly, for the first time, just how much I did worship this man. The very word ‘love’ seemed immaterial in the light of my adoration for him. Just being away from him for a month and a half had left me with the feeling that my heart had been pierced with a blade. I could not be without him; I needed him with me every single moment.
“I am never leaving you again,” he whispered, as though the same notion had run through his mind. “Never, my dear.”
I nodded. “I know.”
He kissed me again, and I sighed, savouring the touch of his lips. But then he drew back in astonishment, noticing the healing scar on my wrist.
“Éva,” he said, “what is that?”
I smirked. “What do you think?”
His chocolate eyes widened in comprehension. “You’re human again?”
I laughed, unable to help myself. “Yes!”
“What? You found a harmless? Oh, that’s wonderful!” Benjamin exclaimed, causing some nearby people to turn their heads in irritation. I chuckled, quickly taking hold of him in an attempt to calm him down.
“Actually,” I said, quieter now, “it wasn’t a harmless.”
He hesitated, clearly not having been expecting that. “A demon? You cannot be serious.”
“I am,” I insisted. “But we need not talk about it now, my darling. I will tell you later. Let us now just
be together!”
Benjamin gazed at me deeply for a long moment, but then he relented, leaning in once more to kiss me. I could tell our open display of affection was drawing a few disapproving glances from the other English passengers; after all, public intimacy like this was very much frowned upon.
I didn’t care. I could have happily kept my lips locked with his until the end of the world.
After a blissfully long time, Benjamin released me, and held out baby Norman. That brought forth a fresh wave of tears as I lifted my sweet little son into my arms. He gurgled happily as I hugged him to me, cradling his head, running my fingers through his strawberry blonde curls. Wool tickled my chin, and glanced down to find that he had my Mirriam ragdoll clutched in his hand.
I felt as though my skin was the only thing from stopping me flying everywhere at once. Sheer indescribable bliss consumed my entire being. I was with my family again; my beautiful husband and son were right here with me, and we would forever be like this. After all the evil, we finally knew the chance of a happy ending, free of any nightmares and old ghosts. There was nothing for us, save each other, and the promise of life.
I let my eyes rove over the skin on the back of my hand. I had been standing in blazing sun for hours now; and yet not a single blister or hint of rash had risen. There was no impulse to scratch, or hide my face from the light, or bury my teeth in my beloved’s neck.
Filled with new sense of hope for a future that was mine again, I looked up at the sky, and the clouds drifting across its steely ceiling. I imagined I could see tree-sprites fluttering amid the shapes, and the day my darling little Norman would be old enough to hear the stories with the same sense of wonder as me.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
E. C. Hibbs is the author of several novels, including the Tragic Silence series and MIPA Nominated YA fantasy Blindsighted Wanderer. She also runs Elphame Arts; creating unique portraits in both digital fantasy and graphite mediums, as well as book and CD covers. She holds a BSc (Hons) in Animal Behaviour and a Postgraduate Diploma in Wildlife Conservation from the University of Chester.
Besides writing, she reads obsessively, her favourite genres being the classics and all kinds of fantasy. She enjoys Disney and horror films, practising Shotokan karate, archery, hiking up mountains, and playing with her very cheeky cat Millie-Moo. She also models for the UK Alternative Fashion Fest in aid of local charities and S.O.P.H.I.E., and is an avid supporter of WWF.
She resides in Cheshire, North-West England.
www.echibbs.weebly.com
www.facebook.com/echibbs
www.twitter.com/echibbs
www.elphamearts.weebly.com
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TRAGIC SILENCE
BOOK ONE OF THE TRAGIC SILENCE SERIES
When tragedy strikes Bianka Farkas one night in her native Hungary, she loses much more than just a friend and her mobility. Some things are harder to understand. Waking up in a hospital, Bee struggles to remember exactly what happened the night she was attacked and witnessed a brutal murder. Memories of a mysterious figure plague her, as well as bizarre and terrifying changes in herself over the next few years. Facing this new terrifying reality with a surprising ally, Bee finally has the chance to take her revenge, but at what cost?
THE LIBELLE PAPERS
BOOK TWO OF THE TRAGIC SILENCE SERIES
Young German nurse Hanna Bernstein has secretly researched vampirism all her life, carrying on her family's 250 year-old legacy. Along with her father, she is the caretaker of Die Gift: a collection of unpublished theses detailing the most secret and mysterious condition in history. But even she is unprepared for the twisted world of demons which threatens to swallow her.
Risking everything to save the life of an old friend, she is forced to abandon all she knows and go into hiding in Switzerland. But with a powerful enemy on her trail, Hanna's decisions will matter more than ever before.