The Journal of Vincent Du Maurier (Book 1)

by Ambroziak, K. P.

  We are on the ledge of a rock face bordering the sea cliff. Our camp faces the water and is tucked under the rock overhang that serves as our roof. A small opening lies in the rock behind us, but the cavern is surely empty. When we arrived, it took some coaxing to convince Evelina she was safe here. Helgado built her a fire and I offered to fetch her a fresh catch.

  “Don’t go,” she said softly. “Don’t leave me.”

  “I’ll keep you safe, Evie,” he said.

  His effort is in vain, for she only feels safe with me. Her attachment grows by the hour. As I carried her, she clutched at me with both hands. She has a difficult time resisting my aura, and Byron would not be happy with me for making her suffer the mild rejection she experiences every time I leave her. “I promise to return before you wake,” I said.

  Helgado used another Dilo seed for the perimeter, though he protested. We are down to our last two. “If it makes her feel safe,” I said. “You will do it.”

  He did not bother to argue. He would not risk looking stingy or careless. I watched him spray the purple powder on the ground, the ledge and the surrounding rocks before I dove over the cliff into the sea.

  When I returned with a handful of grouper, both of them were asleep and the fire had gone out.

  24 November. — Today was a more memorable day than most and I will do my best to record it. At sunrise this morning, the nomad’s arrival hit me with a blow to the gut.

  “Ce mai faci, Du Maurier?”

  Evelina and Helgado were still asleep when Wallach greeted me on the cliff’s edge. I was not in the most viable position, cornered as I was with two humans. I told him it had been a while or some banality like that. We had never been companions and were barely acquaintances. He was seeking Veronica, no doubt.

  “Not her,” he said.

  He has a gift for reading facial expressions and gestures, even the slightest of ticks can tell him what someone is thinking. “Then who?” I asked.

  He stayed on the perimeter, hovering just outside the powder. I moved toward him, trying to draw his eyes away from Evelina and Helgado. When he looked at the two of them sleeping, I wagged my finger, assuring him they were off limits. He breathed in deeply—I can only assume to take in their aroma.

  “Do not even let it cross your mind,” I said. “They are mine.”

  He grinned, but I could read expressions too and knew he was slightly tortured by the impossibility of having them.

  “I will not hesitate to take off your head,” I said.

  “Mi-e sete,” he said. My Romanian was rusty but he wanted blood, though he did not look too starved. “I’ve eat-en already,” he said. “But … mi-e sete.”

  He was thirsty, despite the blood he had found in the mountains. Animal blood was sufficient for temporary survival, but not as filling as human ichor.

  “Te rog,” he said. Pleeease! It was not beneath him to beg. He leered at Evelina’s swollen belly, I was sure he could smell the baby. Her scent is potent.

  “Nu,” I said, scowling and holding up a hand, talons and all. He could certainly read that.

  “Pardon.” His shoulders dropped and he stopped leering. “Rangu told me about her,” he said.

  “Have you seen him?” I asked.

  “Da,” he said, picking at his teeth.

  “Recently?”

  “Nu,” he said. “Unde este Rangu?”

  He did not know about the vineyards. He could not—he was not there, or I would have sensed him too. I debated telling him about his partner. “I have not seen him since the catacombs at LaDenza,” I said. “He was hungry and I offered him a blood substitute.”

  “Sânge fals?” He marked his scorn with a high-pitched laugh. “He’d sooner drink animal blood.”

  “Like you?”

  It was an insult to openly accuse a vampire of drinking animal blood, but I could smell the family of chamois he had fed on hours earlier.

  “Îmi pare rău,” he said. “We can’t all travel with our own personal blood sack.”

  His volley from Romanian to English made me dizzy. Each time he spoke, it was as if he switched personalities; the English one refined, the Romanian brutish.

  “I have not seen Rangu.” I settled on that, knowing he would not believe me either way.

  “Mincinos.” He repeated the accusation in a low voice, spitting out the word rather than speaking it. His posture shifted as though he made ready to pounce from his haunches. He was crazy to think I would not tear him apart if he attacked. I thought Evelina was awake now, for how could she not be? “Mincinos—mincinos—mincinos!” Liar—liar—liar!

  I stepped forward and pressed my hand up against the seething Wallach. He was smaller than I but had far less to lose. “You killed Rangu!” He screamed.

  I told him that was ridiculous, but my expression betrayed me. He swiped a taloned-hand across my face, nicking the edge of my chin and neck. I threw my head back and leapt up before his second blow scratched across my shins. I landed with a sweep that knocked him off his feet. He sprang back up, kicking me with his heels, and hopped onto a nearby rock after regaining his balance. He was agile, his diet of animal blood giving him strength. But I was faster and stormed the rock he stood on, catching him by the arm. With my talons gripping his wrist, I twirled him around, sending him into a tailspin across the rock face and into its ridge. He slammed into the ledge with the thrust of my force, his head dropping back and colliding with the edge of the rock. The entire wall shook behind him.

  When I saw his face again, it was covered in blood. Vampires do not bleed—the thrust of my hit caused him to disgorge the drink of chamois he had scoffed down in the mountains. As the blood spouted from his mouth, he clenched his throat. “Nenoroc—” He choked on his word, as the crimson fountain spurted without end. When a rumble came from above, I looked up to see the boulders drop from the rock face. I dodged several, leaving the nomad to his fate, as I ran back to Evelina on the ledge of the cavern.

  Imagine my horror when I saw my girl was gone. The rocks came down with a fury and my only escape was into the cavern. The bags had disappeared, and I could only hope the boy had dragged her inside for safety. I headed into the darkness, taking in the air, tasting her on my tongue despite the rankness of damp and death. As I made my way in deeper, the mouth of the cavern closed when a large boulder fell on the ledge and sealed the opening. The light vanished, as my lone voice echoed through the tunnels. “Evelina,” I roared.

  Easy to track, I followed her scent, as I inhaled it—consumed it. Even in moments of danger, my desire for her blood aroused me. She would not get far without light, and I looked for the gleam of the boy’s flashlight. A colony of bats clung to the stalactites above me, their sonorous squeals diverting me for a moment—I hated bats. As I made my way deeper into the cavern, heading into the core of the rock, I could hear the sea in the distance. Water sloshed around my boots, as I cut through the puddles, moving too fast to actually get wet. I breathed in the air, gripping her scent between my teeth. I no longer needed it since I could feel her pulse in me. We were in communion now, her blood coursing through my body, making her a part of me. When I found her, crouching against Helgado in one of the cavern’s small cavities, she could not see me.

  “Stay back,” he said. “I can hear you.” The boy flashed his light in my direction.

  “Vincent.” Her strident voice alerted me to her fright.

  When she tried to come to me, Helgado held her back. “No,” he said. “He’s dangerous.” He shined his light on me and I did not feign dodging its brightness. “Who was that?” His posture was hostile, but nothing like Wallach’s. “Why did he attack you?”

  “He wanted Evelina.” I was calm, finding no threat in this poser of a man.

  “Sick fuck,” he said.

  “A rockslide has sealed the entrance,” I said. “You will not find a way out.”

  A rush of pain—or perhaps pleasure—danced in me when the girl whimpered.

 
“What?” The boy was panicked. “Is that guy in here too?”

  “No,” I said. “Are you all right, Evelina?” I moved toward them and he pulled her closer. She struggled to get out of his grip and into mine. He was a fool for thinking he could keep her from me.

  “She’s fine,” he said.

  “Evelina,” I said. “Are you fine?” I used my voice to entrance her, as she silently awaited my rescue. “I will make us a way out,” I said.

  “How?” The boy flashed his light about the cavern, remarking the inescapable situation in which he found himself.

  “Trust me,” I said.

  I waved them to me and Evelina coaxed Helgado to step forward. I led them back the way I had come, following the smell of the sea this time. I found where the cavern’s wall was wet and offered the tiniest cracks of light. Before putting my fist through the rock to make us an exit right there in the cavern, I placed Helgado and Evelina far enough away to be safe, and where he would not see my enormous strength. “Shut off the flashlight,” I said.

  He was obedient now, realizing he was at my mercy. With the two of them huddled out of sight, I blasted alternating fists into the rock wall. Piece by piece it crumbled, as I whaled into it and tore through the cavern within seconds. When I made enough of an opening, I stepped out to see that I was on the other side of the mountain. The salt air rushed to meet me and I knew we faced the sea. Before me stood an expanse of green, the wild grass caramelized in the morning sun; we had reached the bluff.

  Helgado had started to lead Evelina toward the sunlight when I turned back to them. She pulled one of the bags beside her and I rushed to take it from her. “Thanks,” she said.

  “I’m not even going to ask how you broke the rock,” he said. “Not even going to ask.”

  He walked a little ahead to the center of the greenscape and threw his rucksack on the ground, dropping down beside it and yanking it open. He pulled out a canteen and took a sip before offering some to Evelina. I helped her sit down beside him, but he only moved over a little and rifled through his bag.

  “Can you reach the apricots?” She asked.

  He tilted the bag toward her, making her reach for them herself. She pulled out several other things before finding the fruit.

  “The sea is that way,” I said.

  Helgado got out his map and compared it to the landscape around us. “I think we’re close,” he said. “There’s supposed to be markers in the cliff above it.”

  He got up again and walked toward the edge of the bluff. I stayed with Evelina and perused the surroundings. They were peaceful, empty. The chaos with Wallach was far now, somewhere on the opposite side of the rock.

  When the boy returned, he told me there were three massive rocks jutting out from the center of the water, each one indicating the location of the plants. “We made it,” he said. His hostility had turned to excitement.

  “When Evelina is rested,” I said. “You can show me.”

  “I’m going down,” he said.

  “How?” Evelina looked up at him. “You can’t climb down a cliff.”

  “Oh, and he can?”

  “Better than you,” she said.

  “You will stay and watch over Evelina when I go,” I said.

  The brave fool did not protest since the vertical drop was at least three hundred feet and he would not be able to scale it with or without injuries.

  “The plants are supposed to be blooming at the base of the cliff,” he said.

  “Under the water?” I asked.

  “No,” he said. “In a grotto between two rocks. That’s why you can’t see them from up here. Farouch said it was a small opening marked by a spear that’s been stuck in the rock forever.”

  “Help me up please,” Evelina said. “I want to see this spear.”

  “You probably can’t see it from way up here,” he said.

  I wondered if it was not another one of his tall tales. We left the bags on the grass and walked over to the edge of the bluff together. Evelina used me for support while he went ahead of us. When we reached the edge, I held Evelina, as she leaned over and looked first.

  “In there,” he said.

  “I can’t see anything,” she said. Helgado pointed downward with his good arm, but she failed to see his marker. “I don’t see it,” she said again, stepping back.

  “May I?” I asked.

  She moved to the side and let me take a look. Like her, I saw nothing but sea and foam at the bottom of the bluff. The only indication of a hollow in the rock was the trail of water suctioned into a crack.

  “I know they’re there,” he said. “We just have to figure out how to get you down the wall. I have my gear—”

  “I will not need gear,” I said.

  “What are you like a cliff diver or something?”

  “Something,” I said.

  “Well, are you a strong enough swimmer,” he said, “because it looks lik—”

  “Leave it to me.”

  Helgado looked at me with confusion, if not incredulity, but then resigned himself to the situation. It did not matter how I got down, as long as I came back up with the plants.

  “You should go now,” he said, “before you lose the light.”

  “Tomorrow,” I said.

  “But we—”

  “Tomorrow.”

  I would not leave before setting up a safe place for Evelina to rest, and I wanted to wait the night to make sure no others arrived.

  Later. — As I write this, I sit on the edge of the bluff, looking at the waves below. The sea is rough where it meets the terrain but tomorrow’s climb will be easy. I am high—charged with the boost from her blood. She gave herself to me again hours ago when the boy was already asleep. I barely put up a fight. I wanted it. I needed it. I am no longer ashamed. My vow to Byron was broken the moment he asked me to deny my nature. I have accepted our trade-off, her safety for my survival. The thing that keeps my stone heart beating—for my heart does still beat—is the one thing I will never resist. It is the blood, but also the power—the divinity I am fated to engender. The numbness, the vibrating ecstasy, the fire in my belly, all tell me I am becoming the other.

  When I was finished, she placed her small hand on my cheek then slid it down to the corner of my mouth. She put her slender fingers between my lips and ran them across my front teeth. When she touched the sharp points of my bloody fangs, she withdrew her hand. The spell was broken. She wiped the drops of her own blood on her robe and went back to lie beside the boy. She can never unfasten this yoke between us.

  25 November. — At dusk, the benign presence finally revealed itself.

  I headed down the bluff early this morning, as soon as the sun rose. The two were sleeping, but I did not want to waste time. I thought I would have to make several trips if the plants were in fact in bloom, but I had no idea that the first trip would eat up the entire day. I carried the empty rucksack on my back, as I scaled the side of the bluff. I stole swiftly down the rock and reached the surface of the raging sea, the water exploding with anger only Nereus could muster. It splashed up at me, as if inviting me to sink in and play.

  I used my claws to get to the place where the water was sucked in through the rock. The edge around the opening was slick and I had to grip the stone with my talons to hold myself steady. The splintered tip of what was once a spear marked the spot. The opening was tight, but I was able to slip inside, keeping a grip on the rock. By this time I was soaked and my marble frame was made even heavier. As soon as I got through the crack, the hollow opened up inside and I found myself in a natural grotto with vaulted ceilings. The ground was well below the sea, but I found a small ledge on the inner rock to stand on.

  Raised up from the pool, I inspected the rock walls. The opening was nothing like the cavern, this hollow filled with vegetation. The rocks were vibrant and alive, covered in green and yellow algae—moss grew in abundance, as crabs skidded sideways through the aquatic brush. The overgrowth was so thick I co
uld barely see anything else. With it and the mist from the sea, I wondered if I would have trouble recognizing the plant, until I caught a familiar whiff that evoked a memory so strong I did not feel myself drop in and under the water. I succumbed to a Stygian darkness too impenetrable even for a vampire. Engulfed and floating as though in space, my mind was like a sieve, everything pouring out of it save one ancient memory.

  When I was a boy, I was taken to Mount Pelion to see the sibyl who lived in a cave much like this one. I recalled her damp walls, the dreariness of her hovel decorated with shoots and sprouts. She had frightened me with her crooked looks. She had no teeth, and her cheeks were sunken, framed by matted strands of hair that hung down past her feet. When she petted my face with her ugly fingers, I gagged on their smell of sardines and cloves. “S-s-s-s-alt water—cherries-s-s-s-s kiss—and this-s-s-s,” she said. She held out a clay pot filled with water. A flower with large petals and a thick yellow stigma sticking up out of its center floated inside. Its fragrance was both sweet and savory, like cinnamon and olives. Unforgettable and rare, I had never seen it before or since. “Thetis-s-s-s,” she said, “sótéria.” Her eyes rolled back into her head and her mouth clenched into a tight wire. Her voice was low and sonorous, as she chanted sótéria—Thetis—sótéria—Thetis—sótéria. I recognized my mother’s name but not the other. The foolish sibyl’s words meant nothing to me until now—now they mean everything.

  When light finally reached my eyes, my head was propped up on the ledge of the grotto, my body still submerged beneath the water. I was struck by the serenity and clarity I felt at the memory. I could smell the cinnamon and olives of the flowers in the hollow. I had located the Dilo plants and they were in bloom. Thetis—they were my mother’s flower, the ones that would lead to my salvation—sótéria.

  I pulled my body out of the water. It seemed as though I had lost hours, transfixed by the smell and memory of the sibyl. The sun barely reached the opening, as I made my way along the rock shelf to the flowers, guided by their scent. They were just out of reach and I had to drop into the water to get to them. My body was as heavy for me as a slab of granite is for a human, and I was forced to propel myself up and out of the water with little leaps to prevent from going under again.