William

by Claire Cray

  "They!" I turned to him in surprise, walking sideways for a moment. "The both of them? His wife? A woman?"

  "Ho, that shocks you, does it? Ah, yes—I forgot you left them out of the Constitution.” Ignoring my scowl, he said, “Yes, her name was Greta, and she was his maker."

  "How old were they?"

  "Oh, not very old. He had scarcely lived a century. Greta said she was born in Rome during the Black Death, so she was about as old as I am now. Though she is quite ancient today, if she lives. Slippery old bitch," he added mildly.

  "You don't know if she's alive?" I was fully intrigued. "What about him?"

  "No, he’s dead." Theo paused before he spoke again, more bitterly. "Another damned ship. I have a talent for disasters at sea."

  "But..." I caught myself with difficulty, for it was in poor taste to press too eagerly for the details of another's tragedy.

  "There was a fire. He was trapped and he died. Yes, I sense what you're thinking, but we are not invincible. We have our weaknesses. Perhaps we can't starve to death, or freeze, or suffocate, or bleed out. But we can be burned, or torn to pieces, beheaded or stabbed through the heart, and who knows what else? It’s all rumor until it happens."

  "Is that so!"

  "We’re not immortal.” His hooded head turned toward me, and I could see the white sliver of his smile below the edge of the velvet. “Just exceptional.”

  We were passing the old foundry now, and would soon be within the city proper. I urgently hoped there would be some corner of Jude’s to allow our conversation to continue; otherwise, I would rather keep walking than lose a word. And so it was that Theo always got away with his damned impudence in the end! I simply could not resist his revelations.

  "I'm sorry for your losses," I offered after the moment of silence. "I can’t imagine the grief you must have suffered in those years."

  "Mais oui, I was furious. He was a cold man, but I adored him." There was an aged fondness in his voice, and I could hear his smile. "Merde, but he was magnificent. He never smiled. Always smelled of ice and stone."

  As we stepped at last onto the cobblestones of Church Street, I found myself shaking my head in quiet astonishment. What a life—and I had hardly heard the beginning of it! It made me wonder, too, as I had wondered once or twice before, what a multitude of layers must lie beneath Theo's callous exterior. From his first life, as he put it, to all the lives that had followed, the vast territory of times and places he had traveled surely had made their marks on his character. The scale of experience strained comprehension.

  And all this wonder only aroused my painful yearning for the man whose mysteries still taunted my heart. For Theo, for whatever reason, readily invited me to turn his pages; yet, Merrick! Merrick remained a closed book, a private volume kept under lock and key, a stately and sacred tome I was only allowed to handle on rare occasions—and even then, only the cover, only the spine.

  "And then you met Merrick," I ventured.

  "And then I met Merrick, yes, a few years later. Why do you call him that? Is Silas too intimate for you?”

  Dolt. I called him Merrick because that’s all I knew him by when I fell for him, and Theo could go to Hell. "What was he like then?"

  Theo laughed privately, as though he were toying with what to tell me, and then ignored the question altogether. “At last,” he said, gesturing to the wooden sign for Jude’s just a dozen paces ahead. "I hope they have something potable—I could murder a bottle of brandy."

  How convenient that he should tire of speaking. "All the coffee shops are taverns here. There will be spirits aplenty."

  "Ah, parfait. Then I won't have to suffer what you mongrels call coffee."

  "Yes, what a pity you are not still in France."

  "Bite your tongue, William. If I were still in France..."

  I was glad when he let the sentence die with a flick of his hand. Yes, at least that we both knew: More than any effort on my part, it was Theo's interference that had saved Merrick.

  A cloud moved over the sun as we turned onto Court Street, distinctly darkening the afternoon, and Theo lifted the edge of his hood to peer upward. "Not a moment too soon. Though I don't know why we had to storm out of the house in the first place."

  My sigh was ignored.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I led the way into the coffee shop, where the broad public room was rather lively for the hour. The common board at the center of the chamber hosted a half-dozen men who sat at generous intervals, some speaking amicably in the manner of strangers who recognized strangers of a same class. Thankfully, I did not know a single one of them.

  The coffee-man nodded to us from behind the bar, looking us over with sharp interest. His eyes lit up at the sight of Theo, the perfect image of the wealthy young traveler the establishment sought to milk.

  As Theo shed his cloak I scanned the little booths that lined the walls in the usual fashion. The cloudy weather had prompted the proprietors to light the indoor lamps early, and I spotted an empty place in the back where it was as dim as evening. We settled in there, and Theo promptly hailed the coffee man, who was poised practically on tip-toe to swoop in.

  "A pot of coffee," Theo said in his Virginian drawl. "And a good meal for my friend, here. He's right near famished."

  "Certainly, sir," the man bowed slightly. He was in the middle of his twenties, I guessed, with light brown hair and a good complexion. "And for you, sir?"

  "No food for me." A glint of interest appeared in Theo's eyes, and his lips curved into a smile. "But what else have you got to wet my tongue?"

  I leaned back in my chair, hiding a sigh.

  "We have a good selection of drinks, sir," the man replied. "Imported whiskey and wine—a very fine claret that may suit your tastes. But I must recommend our cherry bounce. We’re on a particularly delectable batch at the moment."

  "Is that right?" Theo's eyes hadn't left him.

  Clearly pleased to have caught the fop’s interest, the man leaned in with a conspiratorial smile. "I've hardly been able to stay out of it."

  "Bring me a gill, then, dear man."

  The man bowed and hopped to it. I watched his departure unhappily, propping my elbow on the table and my cheek on my hand, before I looked back to Theo. His sapphire eyes readily returned my stare, containing, as always, that knowing gleam, as though he anticipated my every thought and word.

  Exasperating. Profoundly exasperating.

  At last he inquired, with the casually demanding note of a child accustomed to indulgence, "Have you always been so gloomy?"

  "Never been accused of such."

  Theo smiled and set his own cheek lightly on his hand, a delicate parody of my own pose. "That isn't true."

  "How would you know?"

  "There's little I don't know about you, William Lacy." Theo shrugged. "I've been following you all over the city for weeks."

  I sat up in shock, then outrage. In a mirror reaction, Theo lifted his cheek from his hand and uncurled his fingers in an innocent gesture, as if he had no idea what had sparked my reaction.

  "Your drink, sir." The bright red cordial appeared between us before I realized the coffee-man had returned—likely the fastest drink yet poured in the nineteenth century. For Christ's sake, he might as well lay flowers at the devil’s feet.

  "Many thanks," Theo said, and raised a hand to keep the man from turning away. "Now, what do you reckon makes your bounce so irresistible?"

  My cheeks and ears were hot with anger. The snake! Stalked me for weeks, had he? Listened in on my conversations? Crept in close to my people? I wanted to strangle him. And how gleefully he stoked my fury, flirting with the coffee-man while I was forced to fume in silence! I closed my eyes and pinched my brow as Theo prattled on about how the cherry excited his tongue, how ripe the taste, how it made his lips tingle.

  God help me. Merrick had not only abandoned me to my doubts, but to this horrible, wretched, scheming, cold-hearted—

  "Your supper will be
brought up shortly, sir, and the coffee is nearly ready."

  "Thank you," I managed, my hand still pressed to my brow.

  "Of course I've kept an eye on you," Theo said once the man had gone. "I couldn’t have you tumbling off that tavern roof, or slashed up by robbers. Too much on the line."

  I sat up and glowered at him, lost for words.

  "Come off it, morsel. It's just good sense. You know what an idiot you can be."

  "Miserable prick."

  Theo gasped. "Sacre bleu! You really aren’t one for polite conversation."

  "Polite conversation!" I burst out, drawing more than a couple of curious looks.

  “Oh!” Theo grinned with sheer delight and cocked his head back toward the center table. "Shall we move to the common board, morsel?" he teased, lifting his cup toward his lips. "Lay the whole matter before Them the People?"

  "Shut up."

  "We are brothers en liberte, after all—"

  "Shut up!" I hissed. "Damn it, be civil for once, you insufferable ass!"

  "Calme-toi! Je comprend." Theo spread his hands and lowered them, as though to quiet an orchestra. "I'm sorry, morsel. I forget we shall soon be equals." He paused, looking upward with an ambivalent grimace. "Well. I use the term loosely."

  I dropped my hat onto my lap and ran my hands through my hair, trying to replenish my patience.

  "I did watch over you," Theo said in the kindly tone one takes with a confused child. "I am not sure why that offends you, but I'll beg your pardon if you like. I simply saw no other choice. You must understand, morsel, you are the last card I have to play." He was suddenly distracted by something over my shoulder. "That man over there has a cigarette! Do you think they sell them?"

  "I don't know," I muttered. My head ached, and so did my stomach. I would be glad for a meal. I hadn't taken one in nearly two days.

  "I'll ask Lunch. Here he comes with the coffee."

  I had to get to Merrick. I had to. Surely the man had no idea what he had left me with. I might even tell him, I thought. Yes, indeed, when all this was over, I might like a damned apology.

  Theo pushed a steaming cup slowly across the table. "Yes, Will-iam, I know I’m terrible."

  "Please tell me something useful," I said plaintively, and seeing the delight flare in his eyes, I hurried to speak over him. "Yes, I'm asking you. I know you know things you think I'd like to know, or you wouldn't have come by today. So I beseech you. Please. Tell me."

  Theo hummed, swirling his little glass of brandy. "Do you know that's my favorite word in English?"

  "Please?"

  "Very well," he said casually, as though that were all he'd wanted. "Where shall we start? The killing?"

  I stared at him until I could feel my dismay overwhelming my features, and then looked down and shook my head.

  “No? You don’t want to talk about the killing?”

  “No,” I said, and with a tortured grimace, “Yes.”

  “There’s nothing to it. You get thirsty, you drink. Well, there is more to it, but it comes with experience.”

  “You don’t just drink,” I hissed quietly. “You murder.”

  Theo laughed, incredulous, and leaned over the table to speak closer. “It’s not murder,” he murmured. “It’s nature. Fish eat flies, men eat fish, tigers eat men. You want to jail the tigers?”

  “A tiger has no conscience.”

  “So? Which is better? A tiger would eat a child. I wouldn’t.” He gave me a pleased look as if to say, There you have it!

  “But you destroy a life for every meal,” I persisted. “Who’s to say you haven’t killed the next Copernicus, or Christ, or…”

  Theo’s eyebrows shot up. “Mon dieu, you do adapt quickly! Already deeming some lives more important than others.”

  “No,” I protested, though I was caught off guard by the remark. Flustered, I shook my head and glanced around the room before I whispered. “The man who’s serving us. You’ve staked him out, haven’t you? What if he’s got a family? Children?”

  The vampire lifted his shoulders again, unmoved. “What if they all die of fever? What if he rapes his housemaid?”

  Just then the doomed coffee-man returned to the table with my trench: a slab of roast beef, stewed carrots and beets, a cabbage salad, some cheese and a hunk of apple pie. Theo’s talk should have stolen my appetite, but I’d missed so many meals it was beyond restraint. My stomach growled as the man poured a large glass of Port and set the jug on the table.

  "I think I want to see this full again, my dear man," Theo said to him, dangling his empty glass playfully between his fingers. When the man was gone, the vampire looked at me with a sparkle in his eye. “Bon appetit.”

  Numbly, I took up my fork and knife. But before I took my first bite, I stopped to beseech him again. “Why not take the rapists, then? Why not the murderers?”

  “Que oui,” he replied laconically, arching a brow. “Know where I can find some?”

  “I know of a few.” I’d heard rumors, at least. Surely the waterfront girls could name a few scoundrels the world would be better off with out.

  “One for each night this week? This year? Don’t be ridiculous.” Theo leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms about his slim torso. “And anyway, is that your idea of justice?” Before I could reply, he scowled and waved a hand. “Never mind. It’s no use trying to explain it philosophically when instinct will do the job. But if you find yourself in knots about it tonight, just trust that you’ll understand soon enough. You’ll be a vampire. You won’t feel the kinship you feel now with these creatures.”

  I shook my head and kept on eating, feeling more lost than ever. Theo had shot down my arguments without batting an eye, but I wasn’t any more comfortable for it.

  “Merde,” Theo sighed. “You are a wreck. I told him to be quick about it. Why does no one ever listen to me?”

  “Why?” I asked simply. “Why won’t he do it?”

  When there was no immediate reply, I looked up from my plate to find Theo frowning at the lamp. In that moment, his unearthly eyes reminded me not of sapphires, but of the blue at the base of a candle flame, vivid and haunting. Then he shook his head and looked at me seriously.

  “You must forgive him,” Theo said. “He has his reasons.”

  “What reasons?” Though the last thing I wanted to do was speak carelessly of Merrick—God forbid I should give Theo cause to question my devotion—I was at the end of my rope, and the words spilled out uncontrollably. “What reasons could he have? I made the choice, I staked my life; it’s as good as done! Why prolong this misery for everyone? Why not get on with it?”

  “He has his reasons,” Theo repeated slowly. “You already know he thinks it immoral.” The vampire’s lips curled on the word as though it tasted sour. “But rest easy. This will transform him as much as you. That’s what he really dreads, you know. The man dreads happiness like the rest of us fear death. You’ve suffered from his eccentricities, I know, but you must forgive him.”

  “I bear no grudge.” I bit my tongue, but couldn’t hold back. “Does he? For forcing this upon him?”

  “Oh, don’t worry.” Theo’s scowl returned. “I get all the blame.”

  “Why?”

  His angelic features darkened further for a moment, but then the haughtiness returned with a dismissive flick of his slender hand. “Take my word for a few things. It’s beyond your comprehension.”

  “Try me.”

  “Right,” Theo scoffed. “And later I’ll read Rousseau to the pigeons.”

  “Fine,” I muttered, and stabbed a chunk of carrot. What was the use? I knew Theo wouldn’t entertain the possibility that we’d done Merrick wrong. And why would I want him to? I didn’t really believe it would have been better to let Merrick kill himself. Maybe we were selfish to keep him alive, but that didn’t mean we were wrong.

  But if he still disagreed after all this, if he still felt betrayed...

  “Ugh, merde, your gloom is contagiou
s.” Theo tossed back his drink and slapped his hands lightly down on either corner of the table, looking at me with the plainest expression I’d yet seen on his porcelain face. “You’re doing a good thing, William Lacy. That’s all I wanted to tell you. This is what he wants. This will save his soul. And you will love—love—this life with him.”

  My heart quivered, and I found myself hanging onto every word. What else was there to do, but to nod with all the certainty I could muster?

  Theo nodded firmly in return, a determined gleam in his eyes. “So march through that door with your sweet little heart on a platter and tell him this is what you want. Tell him and tell him and tell him until he does it. Understand? Enough of this. Enough!”

  “Right.” As his words soaked in, I found myself rather transfixed by the earnest look in his eyes. It was so unlike him, and so penetrating. For a moment I even felt a bond like friendship between us. But then a strange flash of surprise came over his eyes, and shaking his head, he looked down. “Right,” I said again, perplexed by the awkward moment, but more concerned with leaning into what he’d said. The conviction in his words did lift my spirits. “Well, I remain at the ready.”

  “Good.” Theo seemed somewhat reassured, as well. “If that’s the case, this should all be behind us soon.” His eyes drifted over to the coffee-man, who was waiting on another patron, and he yawned lightly. Did vampires yawn? Christ, I was still in the dark.

  The place had grown crowded since we’d walked in, and the air was stifling. I had eaten enough. I reached for my wallet.

  "Please, morsel," Theo said dryly, holding up a hand to stop me. "Allow me the honor."

  I nodded and rose from the table. "Thank you."

  "Is this goodbye?"

  "One can dream," I said, straightening my cuffs.

  Theo smirked. "I suppose I'll see you on the other side, then. I assume you can survive the trip to Boston without me.”

  Boston? I squinted at him and shrugged slightly, not following.

  Theo gave his most theatrical look of surprise, his blue eyes widening as his mouth formed a dainty O. "Oh, how silly of me! Why, I was so swept up in your company I neglected to tell you..." He reached into his jacket. "...I picked this up on the way into the house."