by Lee, Tawnya
“Grand,” Breasal patted her back. “But yer keeping me from me pint. Can we stop the dawdling and get on with it now?”
Moira rolled her eyes. “Sure thing, I think I’ll need a pint if I’m gonna be spending time with you all evening.”
Seara grinned, grabbed them both by the arms, and the blood-drinkers walked through the doors of the Temple Bar pub. “Drink!” she said, exaggerating the roll of the ‘r’.
Moira found even the inside of the pub beautiful. Wood covered nearly every surface. Framed pictures papered the walls. Breasal led her through what felt like a maze until he pointed to an area with red-leather backed seating.
“You two, sit. First round’s on me.” He walked away toward the bar, leaving Moira and Seara to sit down.
“I forgot you hadn’t made it to Ireland yet. So ye’re loving it then?”
“Yes. Oh my God, yes. I knew my family came from Ireland, and I always thought I’d love to see it, but never dreamed I would. I mean, we had nothing. No money. Plane tickets were too expensive. Almost worth becoming a vampire to get to come.”
Seara laughed. “Ya know, when ya grow up here, it’s easy to forget. To take things for granted. Someday soon, we’ll have to give ya a proper tour. Take you down Canal Street, Boyne Valley, County Wicklow is gorgeous, too. Oh, And Dingle. We’ll have to teach you proper Irish, though. Take you to Donegal.”
“I’d love to learn Irish. How do you say ‘Dublin’ in Irish?”
“Baile átha Cliath.”
“Bally ah clee-ah,” Moira repeated slowly.
“Pretty close. Not bad, not bad.” Seara smiled.
“I don’t know why my family would even leave.”
“Do you know about when that happened?” Seara asked.
“It was around 1850, that’s what my gramma told me.”
“Probably the great hunger. Ye’d know it as the potato famine. Lots of history to learn, but so many died, starved, pulled from the homes by British landlords. Sad times, sad times.”
Seara began to sing.
Oh father dear, I oft-times hear you speak of Erin's isle
Her lofty scenes, her valleys green, her mountains rude and wild
They say it is a lovely land wherein a king might dwell
So why did you abandon it, the reason do me tell.
Oh son, I loved my native land with energy and pride
Till a blight came o’er all my crops; my sheep, my cattle died
The rent and taxes were to pay, I could not them redeem
And that's the cruel reason I left old Skibbereen.
At this point, Breasal walked to the table with three pints, set them on the table, and standing, joined in the singing. His baritone voice boomed through the pub. Soon, others around them joined in. The chorus of voices rang out the powerful ballad through Temple Bar.
‘Tis well do I remember that bleak November day
When the bailiff and the landlord came to drive us all away
They set my roof on fire with their cursed English spleen
And that’s another reason I left ol’ Skibbereen.
Your mother too, God rest her soul, lay on the stony ground
She fainted in her anguishing seeing desolation 'round
She never rose but passed away from life to immortal dream
And that’s another reason I left old Skibbereen.
And you were only two years old and feeble was your frame
I could not leave you with my friends for you bore your father's name
I wrapped you in my cóta mór40 in the dead of night unseen
I heaved a sigh and bade goodbye to dear old Skibbereen.
Oh father dear, the day will come when in answer to the call
All Irish men of freedom stern will rally one and all
I'll be the man to lead the band beneath the flag of green
And loud and high we'll raise the cry, Revenge for Skibbereen!
The crowd cheered and whistled, then drifted back to chattering amongst themselves. Breasal sat down, and picked up his pint. “Slainte!”41
“Slainte,” Seara responded, clinking her glass against his. Moira hesitated, then clinked her glass with the other blood-drinkers.
“Breasal, I was just explaining why her family’d be leaving Ireland for America in the 1850s.”
“Yes, someday Moira, I’ll tell ye more. Didn’t I say I’d been following yer family for centuries? But tonight’s not the night for that story. Let’s enjoy our pint then get down to the business of learning how to feed but not kill.”
They each had three more pints before setting off to the hunt. Walking out the pub, they wandered the streets toward Trinity College.
“Now Moira, the secret is restraint and picking the proper victim. Ya can’t bleeding well be drinking off just anybody. Find one who’s isolated or a bit knackered. Someone who won’t properly remember. In time, ye may be able to weld a bit o’ mind control, as it were. Make them want to be your prey. I bet if ye try, ye’d find yerself already able. Ya just don’t know it yet,” Breasal said.
Seara nodded. “You’ll be wanting to sip slowly. Remember your essence? Feel it, breathe it. Imagine yerself casting a net over a person with it. Entice them. Seduce them. Here, watch me first,” she said.
Seara glanced around, and spotted a lone man, outside a pub smoking. She walked toward him, smiling.
“Care to share a wee bit of yer fag with me?” she asked.
The man grinned and handed her the cigarette. Seara took a hit, and then handed it back to him.
“How’s the craic here tonight?” she asked.
“Better now that you’re here.”
“Is a handsome man like yerself alone, then?”
Seara cast her invisble net. The man smiled and moved close to Seara, she pulled him toward her and in the act of kissing him, pierced his neck with her teeth and drank. “Forget me,” she whispered in his ear, as she finished. The man turned as if he’d never seen her, dropped the cigarette and walked back into the pub.
“See?” Seara said. “Easy. Now you try.”
They walked another block before Breasal pointed. “That one. Him there.”
A man sat alone at a Dublin Bus stop. The electric sign above flashed eight minutes till the next arrival. Moira looked at the man, and then back at Breasal. He nodded. Moira walked toward the stop and stood beside the man. She breathed in, feeling her essence, and imagined it as a giant net, scooping the man and drawing him near her. The man appeared startled and turned to look at her. He stood, and walked to Moira.
“Drink me,” he said.
Moira, surprised, pulled him to her and nuzzled his neck. Her incisors snapped out, and plunged just above his collar. The blood rushed through her, electrifying her senses. Just as the man groaned, Breasal shouted out.
“Enough. You don’t need to be killing the man. Not tonight, anyhow.”
Moira stopped, imagining the net releasing him. He took a step back. His eyes wide, he shivered.
“I’m sorry, but did I miss the bus?” he asked.
“No. I think you may have fallen asleep a bit, but the bus hasn’t shown yet.”
Moira walked away, back to her friends.
“He asked me to bite him. What the fuck?”
“Aye, sometimes they will,” Seara said. “Come on, let’s find some more. But this time, just a sip. Don’t get carried away.”
Before the night was over, they ended at the Grand Canal. Moira had drank from five souls that night, her thirst quenched. They were right. It was invigorating. But the memories of pulling the beating heart from her first victim overshadowed the night. It troubled Moira. Was she nothing but a killer? Would anything rival a full conquest? She let the question linger a moment, then shook it off.
“Care for one more pint before we head back?” she asked her companions.
“I’ll never say no to a pint,” Breasal responded.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Where did you get these pictures, Jack?”
Jack, a malicious grin slashed across his face, turned to look at Justan. He snatched the cell phone from Justan’s hands and stood in front of the back window in his greenhouse. Though dawn had set and the need to shield light had gone, the purple curtains were drawn, blocking the view to the outside world. The dragon roared silently above his head.
“I said I have my sources. I get updates on Moira and her boys. Breasal’s kingdom has a leak.”
He laughed as he glanced at pictures of Derek and Tristan with Nanny Piper on his phone. Breasal wasn’t the only one who could play with mind control. Midnight trysts with nannies were usually the fantasy of wayward husbands, but Jack was having a different kind of fun. Over the centuries, Jack had become adept at preying on females to do his bidding. He’d even had Seara spying on the Tribunal for him at one time. But that was long ago. She’d wormed her way back into Breasal’s fold and pissed Jack off in the process. I’ve always wanted to fuck him over for that, he thought to himself. She thinks she fucking redeemed herself, but I know she’s weak. Jack was playing the long game and had Breasal in his sights. Having one of Breasal’s nannies fall for his charm and give him the dirt made it even more delicious. The idea he could do this right under Breasal’s nose made him smile.
“My watchers were surveying Breasal’s and saw two women leave with strollers. Once they let me know he was employing humans to watch her little shitheads, I knew I had an in. I made sure I bumped into one of them yesterday evening. I charmed her over pints of beer and fish and chips. Sweet-talked her, pretended I was interested, and bam! She’s eating out of my hand. A little mind control, and she’s sending me pic updates to my phone, layout of the house, you name it. Her little pea brain was too easy to crack.”
“Wouldn’t it be a gas to turn Moira’s boys into vampires? Wee lil’ ones crawling around biting and drinking from human ankles? Ankle-biters, ha!” Justan said.
“Are you a total bleeding amadan?42 What the fuck good would turning her children into blood suckers be? She’d go mad. Bring down wrath on us? Did your brain get stunted when you turned?”
“Well, I was just saying...”
“You were just saying a load of shite, is what you were just saying. Jaysus, am I surrounded by idjits? Do you need that fucking bridle up there on the wall to keep the shite from flowing out your mouth?”
“No, sir. Sorry. Just a joke.”
“Yer a bleeding arseface is what ya are. Jaysus. These pictures, now we know what her babes look like. We know the inside of house. And I can get updates on what’s going on for as long as I need, if I play my cards right. I have to know what we’re dealing with here. And I’m sitting on this for a while. Never know when it’ll be useful.”
Jack set the phone down on a small table, then opened his liquor cabinet and pulled out a decanter of fresh blood. He opened the bottle, sniffed it, and frowned.
“Kid, if you’re the future of the rebellion, we’re fucked. Pay attention to what I do. Learn something. You may need to know how to be of use someday. What I’ve learned so far is the nannies think Moira has photophobia, a physical reaction to the sun. I’ll say she does. Also, the nannies signed a nondisclosure agreement making it illegal for them to be sharing anything about what happens there or about Moira and her children. But NDAs are no match for good old mind control and telepathy. We have a gold mine of information. And we can use it to play Moira.”
He recanted the flask, put it back into the cabinet, locked the door, and faced Justan.
“Now, let’s get on with it. I’m in the mood for killing tonight. Warm blood on reserve is no fun. I need to hunt.”
“Right, boss. I hear ya. Where ya up to going?” asked Justan.
“Meh, I feel a bit like Edinburgh tonight.”
The pair opened the door of his greenhouse and stepped into the garden.
“Off then, shall we?” Jack said.
Justan nodded, still shaken from the rebuke, and the pair flew into the sky toward the city.
Meanwhile, Moira sat in the nursery, rocking Tristan. Nanny Beckett was at the changing table with Derek, changing his diaper. Moira hummed Skibereen43 softly in Tristan’s ear, smelling the top of his head. She stroked his hair softly, Tristan’s eyes slowly dropping closed. Nanny Piper walked in and smiled.
“Good evening, Moira.”
“Good evening. Thank you for the pictures the other day. I appreciate it so much. You’ll never know.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am. I could take some more for you, each day. Show you how the day went.”
“That’d be great, thank you.”
“I think he’s asleep. Would you like me to put him down for you?” Nanny Piper asked.
“Yes please. And Nanny Beckett, you can hand me Derek. I’ll hold him for a bit and put him down myself.”
“As you wish. Would you like us to stay on call tonight?” Nanny Beckett asked.
“No. I seem to have a bit of insomnia lately. I don’t really sleep through the night anymore. I went out last night with Breasal and Seara. But tonight, I’d like to stay in and be there for the boys just in case they wake up. You can have the night to yourself.”
“Well then, ma’am, I’d like to pop out for a bit, and then come back for a bit of rest me’self,” Piper said. “I got a man friend coming around lately. Think he fancies me. I may pay him a little visit. Iffen I can reach him, that is.”
Moira smiled. “I’m glad you have someone. Sure, go. Have fun. Paint the town red.”
As the nannies walked down the hall, Beckett turned to Piper.
“Don’t stay out late, will ya? And who’s your new man?”
“I won’t. I promise. We should take them down to the park tomorrow. Get ‘em out of the house. I’ll need the rest to be chasing after them, so I won’t be out long. It does them no good to be stuck inside all day. Sometimes this place feels like a mausoleum,” Piper shuddered.
“Aye, it does. But it’s good money, no?”
“That it is. For sure, for sure.”
“And what’s this about a man? Ya didn’t answer that question,” Becket raised her eyebrows at Piper.
“Oh, I don’t know why I even said anything. I only met him a day or so ago. Strangest thing, too. It was like he was following me. And when I questioned him about it, well, he was so charming. I’m not sure why I even suspected anything. He bought me a pint, bit of fish and chips. Only he didn’t eat any. Then brought me back to his place. Nice place in Nairn. He’s very proud of his gnomes,” Piper laughed.
“You went to his place? The first night ya met him? And gnomes? What’s to be proud in that?”
“Yes. But it was innocent. He’s harmless. The only weird thing about him is how crazy he is about the gnomes. I’m not sure why he likes them so much. But he wouldn’t shut up about them. And then, well, I must have had a bit much to drink, because the rest is kind of fuzzy. But I woke up back here, safe and sound. It mustn’t have been too bad.”
“Ah girl. Ya best be careful. Men be putting rufies in women’s drinks, raping and murdering them nowadays.”
“Whisht! His name is Jack. I do remember that. And he was the perfect gentlemen. He only kissed me. A little snogging on the neck, that’s as scandalous as it got. I swear. He’s a good kisser, though.”
“But still. This is a good-paying job. Don’t be ruining it by staying out all night. And don’t bring him back here. You can never be too careful.”
“I won’t. I won’t!”
Piper hugged Beckett as they reached Beckett’s room. She walked to her room just next door, changed clothes, and texted her new friend. Would you like to meet up again? I’m free tonight.
She sat in front of her vanity, powdered her nose and reapplied bright cherry-red lipstick. She smacked her lips together, as she watched her reflection in the mirror, then smiled. The vanity itself was polished oak with heavy baroque lines. It mat
ched her dresser and night stand. The furniture swallowed the room with its heaviness. Too large for the space. However, it was quite sturdy and expensive looking. The oak was polished to a high gleam and was well cared for. The first time she saw the bed, she’d been thrilled. It was queen size with a thick white down comforter. The bedding had a simple gold border around it. The simplicity of it gave an air of wealth Nanny Piper hadn’t experienced before in her 24 years of living. For her, it was like staying in a fine hotel. One of the perks of living in the home was the advantage of a housekeeper cleaning up after her. Nanny Beckett’s room had exactly the same decor. She’d known because she’d snuck a peek before Beckett arrived on their first day of duty.
Within a few minutes of texting, she got a response. Grabbing a bite with a friend tonight. How about tomorrow? Piper frowned, put on her pajamas, and hung her clothes up in the closet. Yes, tomorrow, if I can get the night off work, she texted back. Piper washed her face in the adjoined bathroom, curled up in bed, and snapped the television on. She fell asleep to re-runs of The Great British Bake Off.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Restless
The next evening, Moira walked into Breasal’s room uninvited. It was dark and cavernous, with black silk fabric paneling the walls. Three crow skulls with lit candles inside each skull hung over his bed. On the bed itself was a black silk comforter with a solid red stripe two feet wide, running from the head to the foot of his bed. A raven, wings stretched for flight, was stitched into the center of the stripe. Breasal sat in a silver wing-backed chair facing the fireplace. Over the fireplace hung a framed portrait of a woman. The woman had fierce green eyes, a determined, set expression, and long, black flowing hair. She wore a cloak of what looked to be black feathers. A crow sat on her shoulder. She clutched a staff in her right hand.
Breasal turned to Moira. “Welcome to my room. What can I do for you?”