by Gayla Twist
Mother thought about it for quite some time before saying, “No, there is no way to take her away from my father.” She turned to look me in the eye, her face quite solemn. “If Emily is to be saved from the curse of eternal life, then it is Grandfather who must be removed from us.”
Chapter 9
Colette
“You didn’t like Herschel either?” my sister exclaimed as I walked my bike along side of her. “You’re impossible.”
It was Sunday and I had ridden out to the castle after church to see how things were progressing. I had expected the building site to be quiet, but there was still at least fifty men working, positioning stones and moving lumber into the castle. The second battalion of barges had already arrived and been offloaded. I understood there was to be a third and fourth round of boats on the way, the final of which would contain the castle furniture and family possessions.
I stood at the edge of the worksite, not wanting to be in the way, but still wanting a glimpse of what was happening. Most of the men who had been hired to help with the offloading of the larger stones had completed their work and been sent on their way. Of the men who remained, most must have been from Hungary. None of the conversations I overheard were in English.
The exterior of the castle was looking close to complete, as far as my untrained eye could tell. The structure was much more massive than I had ever imagined. I guessed maybe it was six or eight stories tall. I couldn’t exactly estimate by windows because there weren’t any and I didn’t know how high the ceilings were on each level. The exterior was entirely composed of the large gray stones that we’d seen being unloaded that first day. The castle wasn’t exactly an inviting structure, but historically speaking, I suppose it wasn’t meant to be. I still found the whole idea of a family moving their ancestral home across an ocean and rebuilding it in our small Ohio town incredibly romantic and I longed to know more about the people who were going to live there.
Several of the workers were standing in a cluster close at hand and I noticed that some of the men were glancing in my direction. They were rough-looking and dirty from their labors, but they weren’t regarding me in a way that felt menacing. Still, I thought it was a good idea to be on my way.
As I was turning my bicycle around, I heard someone call out, “You there.”
I didn’t stop. There was no possible reason someone at the worksite would be addressing me.
“Hello! Young lady,” the man called out again. This time I knew he had to be addressing me because there were no other females around.
“Yes?” I asked, while mounting my bicycle and rolling a few feet down the dirt road. I saw no reason to be within grabbing distance, even if my behavior came off as a little rude.
A young man stepped forward. He was covered with grime, but had piercing blue eyes that looked intelligent. “You are from this town?” he asked, waving a hand in the direction of Tiburon. “You live nearby?” He had an accent, but I could understand him easily enough.
“Yes,” I said, rather hesitantly, unsure why he was asking.
“I have seen you here before. You are curious about the castle.” He said it as a statement, rather than a question.
“I’ve never seen a real castle before,” I told him. I wasn’t sure what answer he was expecting.
“It is fine that you look now,” the young man told me, “but when the family is here, you must never come to this place. You must stay away.”
At first I thought he was trying to tease me in some foreign way that I didn’t understand. But his face was so grave; I quickly realized that wasn’t the case. “Why?” I asked. What need could there be for anyone to avoid the castle, beyond annoying the occupants?
“The family, they are…” he said a foreign word that I did not understand.
“They are?” I repeated.
The young man turned to the group of workers he had been chatting with before approaching me. They were all observing our conversation rather closely. My new friend asked them something in whatever language they were all speaking. I assumed it was Hungarian. The men shook their heads. A few called out more words that I could not understand.
Turning back to me, the young man tried again. “They are a cursed family,” he said. “They are…” and then he tried pantomiming out the word he could not translate into English. He began bearing his teeth, which were straight, but yellow. Then he made the action of biting down. “You understand?” he asked. After that he slapped his lean belly a few times. “They must feed.”
“Oh,” I said, doing my best to suppress a laugh. Was he really trying to warn me that the Vanderlind family was gluttons? But he was looking at me with such a serious face. Maybe he meant that vicious dogs guarded the castle and they would bite any trespassers. Yes, that made more sense. He probably thought I might try to sneak onto the castle grounds and would get a bad mauling for my curiosity. “Thank you for telling me,” I said, trying to match his grave manner. “I will be careful. I promise.”
A look of relief spread across the young man’s face. “I am glad you understand,” he told me. “You will tell other people? They will not come here?”
“Yes, I’ll do that,” I assured him, even though I had no intention of doing so. It didn’t seem appropriate for me to wander the streets of Tiburon warning people of the new family’s angry dogs before they’d even set foot in America. Besides, I was quite sure the local police would make the family post a sign or something, if they had animals that were dangerous.
I pondered the young man’s’ warning as I rode my bike home. That’s when I ran across Lilly, walking along the road, so I stopped to walk with her. She immediately brought up my date with Herschel, of course.
“You didn’t like Lev because he talked too much and now you say you don’t like Herschel because he didn’t talk at all. Seriously, Lettie. I can’t figure you out.”
“That’s not exactly true,” I said in my defense. “I didn’t like Lev because…” What could I say? I didn’t like him because he was so very full of himself that there didn’t seem to be any room left for him to care about anyone else. He just didn’t seem like a kind person to me. But I couldn’t exactly say that because he was a good friend of Walter’s. “Because I just didn’t feel we had a connection,” I said, although it sounded like a poor excuse, even to my own ears.
“He thought you had a connection,” my sister observed.
“Yes, but don’t both people have to mutually feel the connection for there to actually be one?” I asked. “If he felt anything, it was probably just hormones.”
“Lettie,” Lilly exclaimed, and then she covered her face with her hands and laughed with embarrassment. “Don’t let Mama and Papa hear you talking like that. They’ll never let you out of the house again.”
Chapter 10
Jessie
It was not ideal for a fledgling vampire to be shunted onto an ocean liner only a few days after being turned. But Grandfather was a man of little compassion for other people’s suffering. Besides, the ship on which we’d booked our passage had all the requirements for a family of vampires to make a successful voyage. The boat didn’t launch until the evening, so if we waited to board until the last minute, then we could go under the cover of darkness. The ship also docked in New York in the late afternoon. We would all have to find excuses for lingering in our cabins, but that obstacle wasn’t insurmountable. Most stewards would be happy to let an ailing passenger spend a few more hours in his bunk if the right amount of currency was exchanged.
We had to make sure that we all had a safe place to spend the daylight hours. Coffins could not be accommodated. — Even a steward on the make would grow suspicious after seeing a coffin in several different cabins. — But overly large steamer trunks were not out of the question. Grandfather had one made for each of the family who was a member of the undead. Steamer trunks were usually put in storage and not left in first class cabins, but it wasn’t such an oddity that it would be remarked upon
with any interest. My mother suggested that each trunk be made by a separate craftsman, so they would all have a distinctive look and not be thought of as purchased together. She was adamant about everyone keeping a separate identity and my grandfather eventually saw the wisdom of this plan, even if he was unwilling to compliment her for such forethought.
In the last decade, crossing the Atlantic had gone from a thirty day ordeal to just a four day voyage. It was a boon for vampires looking to travel to America because it meant no more trying to bring live animals aboard the ship or surviving on rats. Jars of blood, properly sealed, were easily palatable for up to a week, if kept out of the sun.
Our grandfather had always fed traditionally, preferring the blood of beautiful young boys or virile young men. He had enough money and Budapest had enough members of the underclass, that these poor souls could be acquired and disposed of without too much trouble. Every once in awhile, a mother would raise a ruckus, searching for her missing child. But the Vanderlind wealth shielded Grandfather from any real concern about prosecution. There were rumors about our family, but there would always be rumors about us no matter where we lived.
After my mother was turned, she couldn’t stomach the idea of causing another human pain to satisfy her own appetite. She said she’d rather starve than to harm an innocent mortal. So she came up with a plan to keep our family in good supply of the sustenance we needed while actually helping the mortals of the human race. Mother invented another son, Arthur. Poor Arthur was a sickly boy, suffering from a rare blood disease. His malady meant he was in need of multiple blood transfusions each day. Mortals interested in selling their blood were provided with a meal and a generous payment. Soon the castle had more blood than was needed. Other like-minded vampire families began contributing funds so that they too could feed without causing harm. It wasn’t too long before clinics were set up in four neighborhoods of Budapest so that blood could be collected without a direct connection to the Vanderlind family. Many vampires agreed that the voluntary collection of blood was the humane thing to do, but it did little to ease a vampire’s natural instinct to hunt.
As I struggled to control my appetite and adjust to the new life that had been thrust upon me, there was another worry that plagued my mind. It was too late for a change in our cabin arrangements. My sister and I would have cabins that were adjoined by a stateroom. Before I had been transformed, that seemed an ideal pairing. I could keep an eye on her and shield her from any shipboard Romeos or unscrupulous travelers who were toying with the idea of relieving a first class young girl of her purse. But as a vampire, the whole situation made me uneasy. I was too new to the world of the undead to trust myself alone with any mortal. I loved my sister dearly and would have rather walked out into the blazing sun of high noon than harm her, but that didn’t mean my predatory instincts wouldn’t take over in a moment of weakness.
Fortunately, my mother thought of a solution to ease my mind. Mrs. Denkler was crossing on the same ship as us, only her cabin was in third class. Our housekeeper would pose as Emily’s governess and simply stay in the cabin with her. Denkie had nerves of steel and I was convinced she could face down a vampire much more powerful than the likes of me. It felt good to know that my sister would be protected from the evil that lurked in her own home. That would make the crossing less of an ordeal.
We travelled by private train cars to the port city of Drubrovnik on the Adriatic Sea, where the ship that would take us to America was anchored. Our boarding was planned with precision. We family members climbed in our custom steamer trunks while it was only late afternoon and then we were driven to the docks in separate vehicles. That way we could start boarding the boat, one-by-one, immediately after sunset. My sister and Mrs. Denkler came in the car with me. At first I felt claustrophobic in my substitute coffin. Although the trunk was quite large, I felt cramped and had to tuck my legs to fit inside. For several seconds I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Then I remembered that I didn’t have to breathe and I was just being foolish.
“Mama is getting out of her trunk now,” Emily said, tapping on my trunk. She had a pair of opera glasses with her so she could watch the activities of the other family members while remaining inconspicuous. “They’re driving toward the ship now, so I think it’s okay for you to get out,” she said a few minutes later.
All of the trunks had been ingeniously designed so that they could be locked and unlocked from the inside. The visible lock on the outside was really just a decoy to deceive any curious maids or light fingered crewmen. That way there was no chance of someone thrusting open the lid at an inappropriate hour and getting the surprise of his life as a vampire burst into flames and quickly shriveled into a pile of ash. That would have definitely been a story a man could tell his grandchildren from the insane asylum.
I jiggled the lock, was unable to open it, and felt a flash of frustration. Then I realized I had my eyes closed, which was silly because as a member of the undead, I could see perfectly in the dark. With my eyes open, I easily popped the lock and flipped open the lid. Slipping out of the trunk, I crawled into the back seat next to my sister. She gave me a smile, then reached over and straightened my tie.
Even though it was no longer necessary for me to breath, I still took a few moments to gulp in some of the night air. Mortal habits were hard to break. And it was always good to give the impression of breathing. It was smart for a vampire to try to appear as alive as possible.
“Grandfather’s going now,” Emily said, glancing at me and then returning to her opera glasses. Under normal circumstances, Grandfather would have insisted upon going first. But like most bullies, he was a coward at heart. He wanted to make sure that no one tried to stop my mother before he put himself at risk. I wasn’t sure why anyone would stop Mother. She was simply a beautiful young woman travelling first class to the New World.
“Are you sad about leaving Hungary?” Emily asked as we watched the others move closer and closer to the ship.
There had been so many parties in the last few months, and then I had been gravely ill, and then I was abruptly transformed into the undead. With all that going on, I’d hardly had time to reflect on our moving. If I took a moment to think about it, then yes, there was some sadness at leaving the country we had always called home. I had school friends whom I was to be parted from forever. But I would have been parted from them anyway after being turned immortal.
And yet there was another emotion brimming in my chest. It was much more powerful than my sadness, but I concealed it from everyone. In truth, I felt oddly compelled to go to America. My feelings were hard to describe, but I almost felt like my real life was waiting for me there. I didn’t exactly know how to explain it, but part of me was looking forward to the move with eager anticipation.
“Jessie?” Emily prompted me and I realized I had not spoken in several seconds. Her face looked both sad and hopeful. I knew it must have been hard on her to have me turned so young. Neither of us had wanted to follow the family tradition that Grandfather was hell-bent to inflict upon us. We’d sometimes spoken of running away once we were both a little older. Those childhood plans were now gone. If Emily was to run, it would have to be on her own. I could no longer go with her.
I forced a smile to my lips and said, “I think it’s going to be a grand adventure.”
“You know what I think?” she asked, almost shyly.
“What’s that, my little love?” I asked, slipping my arm around her and giving her a squeeze. She was not yet thirteen, so she still sometimes let me cuddle and squeeze her.
“I think it’s going to be like Dorothy.”
“Dorothy?” I asked, giving her a puzzled look.
“From The Wonderful Wizard of Oz,” she explained. It was her favorite book from when she was very little. “Don’t you remember? Dorothy’s whole house is swept up by a cyclone and crashes down in a place that’s filled with magic.” Her eyes were shining with the romance of it.
“Why do you talk suc
h nonsense?” Mrs. Denkler felt the need to interject. She’d been sitting in the front seat next to the driver, glowering at us the whole time. “The castle wasn’t swept up in a cyclone. It was dismantled and moved by hundreds of workmen and at great expense. And America is not a land filled with magic. Far from it. The east coast is supposed to be quite civilized, but the whole middle of the country is filled with savages and Irishmen.”
“Don’t listen to Denkie,” I said, giving Emily another squeeze and shooting our housekeeper a warning look over my sister’s shoulder. “She’s still pouting that we’re not moving to the North Pole.”
“The North Pole?” Emily gave her temporary governess a surprised look.
“Yes, I heard her talking to Grandfather about it. She’s always wanted to move to the North Pole so that she can look for Father Christmas.”
“She never said such a thing,” Emily said with a giggle. “You’re making that up.”
“I might be,” I said, frowning a bit while nodding my head. “But I think you’re right about Dorothy. Maybe our house will land in a magical place.”
Chapter 30
Jessie
Emily peeked through her opera glasses again, directing them at the docks. “Daniel’s in line to go through customs,” she said. “And there are a couple of people behind him.”
We had our chauffeur pull down to the dock so we could unload and prepare to board the ship. By the time we got all of our baggage out of the car, Daniel was already through the line. First class passengers were treated as above reproach. Beyond glancing at our tickets, no one stopped us as we made our way onto the ship. It was that easy, but only because of our Grandfather’s fortune. And our mother’s forethought.
A steward showed us to our cabins. We each had sleeping quarters, and then there was a small stateroom that was set between our cabins. It was actually very charming with wood paneling and brass framed portholes. And the rooms were not nearly as cramped as I’d anticipated. That was another benefit to traveling first class. It afforded a person a lot more breathing room.