There was a Lady Fenway and I wondered what she was like. Lady Storeton would tell me she had her own life and suitors. “Theirs is a most remarkable marriage.” She smiled. “Why Lady Fenway enjoys some of the rather unique entertainments underground London is famous for.”
That was the first I heard of underground London. I asked Casca to tell me about it and he did.
“There are brothels and special establishments that offer patrons unique entertainment ... liaisons as well. Lady Fenway goes to one it is said I believe that furnishes werewolves for mating to those inclined, both male and female. I am told she has taken a few such males back to her estate. Apparently she is quite happy.”
How depraved I thought. Was I becoming judgmental? Was I going to assess morals now? Don’t get above yourself, Justine or you may be sorry.
In truth, I was more than sorry, I was miserable. This was a difficult time for me without Gascoyne’s love and I began to feel annoyed. I was jealous of the wenches. I had come to have feelings, for him after all, the closest thing to love a vampire could have. And I was also feeling let down. I had killed Oriani but who was Gascoyne to have condemned me for it?
Didn’t he partake of the recent drainings? He most certainly did for I saw him with my own eyes drain a number of poor wretches. I confronted him finally. It wasn’t in the most dignified of places that he had me speak to him. This he did to humiliate me for he was surrounded by naked wenches. “Yes, what did you wish to discuss?”
“Go to hell!” I cried as I was not willing to humiliate myself any further.
I stormed out with him after me. He was shouting and quite violent. He lashed out and hit me. “You want to know why I am angry? You presumed to kill someone and did not have my approval.”
I couldn’t believe it. “Your approval?!” I shouted. “We have hosts here in case you didn’t know. You are just one of the vampire lackeys, my friend.”
He clouted me for that and drew blood. “That did it! I am finished! Gascoyne. I have had enough!” I cried.
I don’t know what I had intended, whether to leave or not but he grabbed me and threw me in the cellar. “You can stay there until I let you out. If I let you out!”
I was screaming by this time in outrage more than in upset. He left me there for several nights with nothing to eat. There weren’t any rats or mice or anything.
Casca came to speak to me. “It is your own doing, little one. I am sorry...”
I told him I thought Gascoyne different—evil and far more decadent than I knew. Casca sighed and then said something I would never forget. “Evil and sin can be contagious...he is fevered with it now. Give him time.”
But I couldn’t and told him. “Casca!” I cried. “If I ever run away, I want you to come with me!”
He took so long to answer I didn’t think he would but he did finally. “It is too late for me. There is nothing more sad than an elderly vampire, and if that isn’t pathetic, an ancient elderly vampire is even worse.”
I watched him leave and though I shouted for him, he did not answer. It was Gascoyne’s voice I heard next. “I hope you have learned your lesson.”
I made no reply as I felt it better not to say anything. He was solicitous and so polite. I thought he was going to ask for forgiveness. Instead he said he wished me to see something. “We can discuss the other matter later.”
There was something about the way he said it that upset me. Yet there was nothing I could do and I still preferred not to ask him anything. As we continued on toward the great ballroom, I smelled blood. “Not another step further!” I cried.
With that, I was pushed so far, I fell before Lord Storeton. He smiled. “We wish to see you drain this girl.”
I looked to see a young, semi-conscious girl no older than fourteen or so, covered in bite marks and worse. Gascoyne ordered me to finish her. When I just stared at him, Lady Storeton asked in the most refined voice, “Please, do finish her while we watch. It will be a test of your loyalty.”
“But I have already proved myself! Please!”
“You were either in a stupor when you did, or you were in a rage. Now you aren’t. Now it will be a test of loyalty. You must prove yourself because of your ill thought action.”
My anger and outrage drove me on and I sank my teeth into the girl’s neck. I drew mouthful after mouthful of her blood. I cared not for the scant images of her dying life, few because she was so young,
Finally I passed out, a bloated, blood-filled monster—a monster that would leave for the streets as soon as I could. The moment could not come fast enough.
I had no plans other than leaving. I had no destination in mind for I knew nothing of London. All I knew was I had to get out of that horrible place, away from all the evil that was there—but mainly I felt I had to get away as far as possible from Gascoyne. For I hated him so!
CHAPTER 16
A great deal can be said for a vampire’s unusual abilities. There I was, perched on a windowsill. The night was waiting to welcome me and I knew it. Then, with no hesitation, no thought of injury or death—I flew down. Freedom was at hand. There were no goodbyes, no regrets—not one.
I began my journey with at least one lesson learned—if I were going to judge London by Grosvenor Square, I would soon be in for a shock. This I would find out later.
A man did stop me to tell me to run along, as the neighborhood was not suitable for the likes of me he said. Obviously, he figured me for a prostitute. I smiled, thinking if you only knew.
It did occur to me to feed on him, but I was too much in the open. I felt certain I would be seen. So I made no reply but hurried along not having any idea which direction to go in. As it happened, I turned eastward. This, I found interesting because the further east I went, the poorer the area. It didn’t seem as filthy as Paris. But it didn’t miss out by much. And like Paris, there were marked differences between rich and poor—there were beggars and prostitutes all of them quite forward calling, out to any passerby exactly what they would do and how much they charged.
There was constant movement and noise—as well as the stench of unwashed bodies and filth. People were sitting and drinking—others were walking or trying to. The crowds were even greater than in Paris. Many were drunk on cheap gin. They hollered and fought—there were scuffles and fights too, the worst being between women. I had never seen anything like it.
Droves of thieves and pickpockets were about. I could tell by one glance what they were—some came up to me but backed off quickly. They knew a menace worse than themselves when they saw me.
There were also madams known as bawds who waylaid any young girl they saw if they thought she would be good for business. A few started speaking to me. I let them talk. It was fun knowing I could easily get away. One had a man in league with her, quite a rough looking sort he looked too. When I left her side he ran after me. I just stopped and smiled at him. He looked bewildered at first until I threw him against an alley wall.
He screamed in pain. His face bloody, he started to lunge toward me but thought better of it. “What are you?”
I thought wouldn’t want to know but made no reply. That was the first of a number of such encounters. The most violent was from a gang of youths. They rushed at me, thinking they had cornered me in an alley where they began to laugh and tease. When one came too close and tried to touch me, I thought enough was enough. Besides, I was anxious to show them what I could do. I jumped the poor fool, hurling myself at him with such force, I was sure he had cracked his head open.
“Anyone else?” I taunted.
They backed away then although not before one threw a rather large stone at me. I threw it back, it caught him in the groin and he went down. They shouted murderer but I only laughed.
Soon, they stood now as one, threatening me and inching closer, I picked up a rat. Biting its head off, I drained it.
“The next one who comes closer, I shall do the same to him!”
They were gone in an instant.<
br />
There was to be more trouble, more challenges and the worst coming from a man who surprised me. Since he caught me unaware, I was momentarily incapacitated or I’d have sprung into action. I didn’t as I suddenly became aware of a man watching me. He was leaning on a walking stick. “Leave her alone!” he cried.
My attacker laughed at him and moved to attack him. The man was ready for it. He swung the stick quickly, hitting the aggressor on the head. The man cried out in pain.
“That will show you!” my would-be savior yelled.
He asked me if I was alright and I nodded. He moved toward me, speaking as he did. I saw he was quite lame. “Miss, please. You will be safe if you go to Endell Street in St. Giles. I have lodgings there.” I said nothing and he smiled. “It is safe I assure you. I am known throughout this area, for I always help damsels in distress though I may not look the type.”
Something touched me, a memory from when I lived—a feeling of gratitude and admiration too. I told him I would find his home.
He looked pleased. “Yes, well go along now. Give me some time ... I cannot walk too well...”
The vampire and the hero, I thought—what a combination.
I thanked him and hurried to the address he gave me. It was on a tiny street. His house was at the end, number 11a. The door was open. A young girl of eleven or twelve stood in the doorway. She was dressed in rags and had soot marks on her face. “The cripple send you here, did he?”
I said he did.
“Go on then, upstairs, in the back. He’s an artist,” the girl said. “And quite a good one I should say.”
****
I waited in the hall as the door was locked. He at last appeared. I knew it was him as I heard his step, the sound of shuffling and another sound—that of a stick tapping on cobblestones. He smiled when he saw me. “I wasn’t too long, I hope.”
I followed him inside, listening to his polite chatter and answering as best I could. I tried not to smell his blood but I did. It smelled good, fragrant, without the hint of alcohol.
He had me sit. “There is an alcove where you can sleep or you can have my bed. I mean on your own if you like.” He smiled.
Now I took a good look at his face. It was not a handsome face, it was a kindly face. “The streets are so unsafe. It seems things only get worse.”
He glanced at me I think wanting me to tell him why I was out walking. I smiled and said I had to leave my lodgings as they were unsuitable. Goodness knew what he thought of that.
I noticed some paintings scattered about. There was an unfinished one on a makeshift easel. I asked him about it. He told me he was doing it for a client. “Well,” he added. “I am hoping someone will buy it. I make enough for food...”
“I won’t be staying long ...”
“You are welcome to stay as long as you like...?”
“Justine,” I answered.
“Justine. I am Edward. Are you French?”
“Yes.” And I am more than that, I thought. But I will never harm you.
CHAPTER 17
He was staring at me in such a way I began to think he knew what I really was.
“I’m sorry for staring, it’s just you are quite beautiful.”
His compliment hurt. Well if you praise a beast, the beast finds it difficult to accept the praise. I was in a terrible state as I had lately begun to question myself. It seemed a conscience had arisen within me, an awareness of the evil I had eagerly participated in was difficult to deal with for I had come face to face with a person who only wished to save me. I thought he’d have died for me. It was quite a moment.
He realized I looked troubled. “Please sit. I shall make you some tea, if you like. Perhaps...”
I declined so he made the tea for himself, reminding me there was more than enough if I should like any. His lodgings were but a room with a cot, and a chair. Still, he wished me to sit.
“I have a crate...”
I insisted he take the chair. He did. Here he was an artist living in squalor and he was the perfect host. I took him to be educated too. It was the way he spoke and how well-mannered he was. He wished to know things, but did not want to appear intrusive.
“I should imagine you are wondering how I came to be here...no, I am not from here. I am from Greenwich.” He paused then. “It is an old story, I was disabled and not the sort of son my father wished to have around. My younger brother will inherit you see. A cripple...”
I felt sorry for him and began to ask him about his painting. He told me he had developed an interest in art early on. “My mother used to take me to shows...but she died. I left when I was seventeen. I was in University. Still, all that I have learned cannot be taught.”
I imagined not. When I didn’t tell him about myself, he spoke. He began to give me advice. “If you don’t mind me saying so, I don’t think you should be about at night...”
“Yes, you’re right I had to leave my lodgings. There were problems.”
“You can tell me anything you like. I am a good listener. However, I will not press you.”
And he didn’t. We began speaking about his art and how much it meant to him. “There is an agent who sells some of my work. I am certain I am cheated—but have no way of knowing. You are welcome to look at my paintings. That one there, I am doing...it is of a friend...”
I saw the portrait was that of a young woman. “She is beautiful.”
“She is and kind too, understanding if you know what I mean.”
I didn’t. He seemed to realize and continued. “I have never been able to...”
He must have thought I looked horrified because he apologized for being so frank. “No,” I said. “I am not one to be shocked, believe me.”
It wasn’t long before he had opened up completely to me. He told me of his first attempt at a sexual encounter. “The woman took payment, not a lot because I didn’t have a great deal. Nothing happened. She kept coming back regularly to help...not even charging but well it was hopeless. I do thank you for letting me be so honest.”
“Believe me,” I said. “Edward, I am no blushing flower.”
“As for Rachel...she is the woman I am painting.”
An awkward silence followed which I broke with my confession. I began by saying I was certain I could trust him. He was somewhat overcome with emotion. “Yes,” he declared. “You can indeed. I will be your friend. One thing my life has taught me is to recognize...”
“The need in others...”
“You have a need...”
I nearly laughed, albeit bitterly. “You might say that.” How was I to tell him my awful truth? My horrible secret. I either had to tell him or I had to leave.
He looked shocked when I stood. “Oh don’t go. Please. It is so nice to have someone to speak with.”
“You might not think so—if I told you.”
He shook his head. “I am not judgmental. I never have been. Oh do sit down.”
“Edward, I must leave...I really must.”
He begged me not to. “Please. Whatever you want to tell me for I have a feeling there is something preying upon your soul—a darkness...”
Soul? Indeed! How close he had come to guessing the truth amazed me. “There is only darkness.”
Although he looked surprised by that omission he wanted to reassure me that nothing was out of bounds—that he was a man of the world. “An artist.” He smiled humbly. “Yes, and an observer of life...”
“I do not live,” I replied.
At first he laughed. At first.
“Edward, there are worlds beyond this one...”
“And worlds within worlds. You are speaking of ethereal matters. Surreal ideas...”
“No, I am one of the undead...do you understand?”
He grew quite pale. “You live yet do not.”
“I am a vampire. I subsist on blood... I will leave now if you wish. It is the best thing, believe me. Dawn will break soon and if I am to find shelter, I best leave now.”
My hand was on the door knob when he pleaded. “Please don’t leave me. Please I beg you!”
****
If I exist forever I will never forget the tone of that plea. I walked over to him. “I can smell your blood, I did earlier in the alley—and it made me want to feed! Doesn’t that horrify you? It disgusts me!”
He began to ask me about myself then. “Come Justine, please. It is time to dispel any pretense, no falsity—whatever the intention. I cannot be shocked. The world has been hard for me, life has been hard...I wish you to tell me everything.”
He was serious. But more importantly, he was sincere.
I then began to tell him my story. “I was born Justine Bodeau in a poor district of Paris...”
CHAPTER 18
I told him everything—all about my attack and death and how Gascoyne raised me. As I spoke I kept watching his face. It was incredible but I saw no judgment there, just openness and the willingness to hear another’s plight.
He said something about fate shaping our futures. “We are what we are because of it. That applies to everyone...”
Monster and human being I took it to mean.
The only time he looked horrified was when I was speaking of my former lodgings with Lord and Lady Storeton. I treaded carefully there because as understanding as he was, I didn’t want to shock him about the depths I had sunk to what with the draining and debauchery.
Yet, I wanted to tell him things, to unburden myself. “Edward, when I emerged as a vampire...I was changed. I didn’t realize quite how much but I do now. That can happen and often does. I emerged wanton and evil ... a terrible blood beast with a great propensity for violence. I enjoyed partaking in the most beastly of pursuits. Now, something new is happening to me. I feel myself changing again, some semblance of a conscience is emerging where there was none there is now the first stirrings of one.”
He looked touched by that and reached out to take my hand.
“I will be your friend,” he said.
My eyes filled with tears. I could make no reply, only to ask him where I might rest. He showed me a cupboard. It was crammed full of clothes and canvases, all of which we both moved.
“Will you be alright in there?”
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