The Earl's Daughter (The Viscount's Son Trilogy Book 2)

by Aderyn Wood

  Then he slept for two hours. He would need his energy for the long night ahead. He met Judith at the small bistro not ten minutes’ walk from the Petite Chez, and they both ordered the pizza.

  “It’s different to our last meal together.” When she laughed her eyes sparkled just the way they used to.

  He ate his pizza and attempted awkward conversation with his ex-wife. Judith had already lined up a new job in England. She was serious about moving back home, and Michael tried to stop his pleasure from growing any further. After tonight, he mustn’t meet her ever again.

  Outside he tried to say goodbye, but she took his hand the way a lover would and said, “Let me walk you back to your hotel.”

  He stalled for a moment, then acquiesced all too easily. They walked in silence – their hands touching, bumping each other more than they should. Michael wished they could walk this way forever. Could he really go through life without ever seeing Judith again? Now that she had come into his life once more, he wasn’t so sure.

  They came to the Petite Chez and walked a little further to a dull street lamp in the lane. Michael glanced at his phone. Just past ten. Emma would be here soon. He had to say goodbye to Judith and then get his suitcase and leave.

  “Well, Judith, it’s time.” His voice said the words but his heart pounded against them.

  Judith looked up at him with her beautiful dark eyes and he knew in that instant that despite all she had done, he had never stopped loving her. He could easily wrap his arms around her and hold her close, breathe in her scent and kiss her fully, but he’d been down that path before.

  Tears formed in Judith’s eyes and fell when she blinked. “I’m sorry; it’s just that, this is difficult for me.” She stepped closer and put her arms around his waist, nestling her head on his chest.

  Michael closed his eyes. Her warmth and the smell of her hair brought a flood of memories – the intimate ones, and his heart refused to slow now.

  “Goodbye, Michael.” She looked up at him then and he couldn’t resist any longer. He bent his head, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her, gently at first, her taste bringing back all the old desires. Her hands explored his back and he kissed her harder, losing all sense of time or what he was supposed to be doing. There was only Judith.

  “I love you,” he whispered between kisses. “I love you.”

  He couldn’t stop kissing her – her neck, her ears, her lips. God!

  Then she was gone; torn from his arms. Her scream rang through the night and a chilling growl bounced up the lane. Michael blinked. Shadowy figures lay on the ground further up. He sprinted toward them. “Judith?”

  A pair of eyes flared, cold and silvery like a cat’s. As his own eyes adjusted, he gaped at the sight before him. Emma was somehow changed into a nightmarish horror. Bold blue veins stood stark on her translucent skin. Her wide mouth revealed long sharp fangs dripping with something sticky. In that instant, Michael froze taking in the sight before him; in the next, Emma crouched over Judith’s exposed neck. Emma fed. Blood welled and streamed.

  “Emma, no!” Michael’s paralysis snapped. He shoved her away with all his might. She flew off. He took out his handkerchief and staunched the flow of blood, gushing from Judith’s neck, but it rapidly soaked the linen. He pressed harder, and turned to face Emma. “What have you done?” Anger filled his voice.

  Emma sat on the concrete a few yards over, her back against the side of the building and her head in her hands.

  “Emma!”

  She looked up. Her face had returned to its usual white, the veins and strange skin gone. She scrambled up and ran over to the gutter where Michael held Judith.

  “I’m sorry! It happened so quickly. I couldn’t control it! Michael, I told you, I’m a monster. Is she all right? Please let her be all right.” Emma’s hysteria echoed and bounced down the lane.

  He had to get her to focus. “She will be, just help me get her up to my room.”

  “Yes.” Emma said, and she lifted Judith onto her shoulder as though she were no heavier than a child. Michael fumbled with the keys but finally unlocked the heavy security door to the building. “It’s at the very top.” He looked at Emma “Will you be able to come in or do I have to invite you?”

  Emma frowned. “Step aside.”

  He opened the door and Emma flew up the stairs two at a time. He hurried to catch up, panting when he reached the top. He let them into his room and Emma placed her burden on the bed. Judith groaned softly.

  Michael filled a cup with water, dampened a facecloth, and placed it on Judith’s forehead. “Judith, open your eyes. It’s all right.”

  “What happened?” Judith murmured, her head moving to the side and her eyes fluttering.

  “There was an accident.” Michael lied.

  “My neck hurts.” Her eyes opened and her pupils widened as she registered Emma. Her eyes rolled back and she fainted.

  Michael inspected Judith’s neck. The flow of blood had stopped, that was something, but now they had another problem. Judith knew, and that meant she was in danger. The words from the Foliss Abesse came back to him. The vampyre must go to great lengths to remain hidden, and should seek out and disempower any with the knowledge of their existence. His hands tingled and anger threatened to cloud his thinking. Too many people knew. First Georgette, now Judith. He was doing a bad job of keeping others safe.

  He turned to Emma. “You have to convince her that it was an accident.”

  Emma stared at him, her eyebrows knitted in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “Vampires have powers of the mind; you can influence others. It says so in the Foliss Abesse and the other one.”

  Emma’s eyes focused on Judith. They were bright red. Not the subtle red glow he’d seen after she’d consumed the pig’s blood – no. They were almost as crimson as blood itself.

  “I don’t know how.”

  Michael took a deep breath and brought his hands together as though praying. “Emma, you have to try. Let your instincts in a little; they will guide you.”

  She frowned. “If I let my instincts in I will become a danger. Look what I’ve done tonight!”

  “How are you feeling now?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How’s the guilt?”

  She glanced around. “I need a drink.” She walked to the drinks cabinet but Michael stood in her way.

  “Answer me. How’s the guilt?”

  Her mouth turned down with the corners of her eyes as though she would cry. “It’s bad, I feel so bad. I’m sorry. I’m a monster.” She sat on the bed next to Judith, her head in her palms again.

  “You must hang on to it; the guilt. It is your humanity.” It was the same with demon-possessed victims. Guilt sometimes kept them sane. “But if you consume alcohol now you will dull your instincts and I think you need them to know what to do. You need to convince Judith that she had an accident tonight. And I need you to convince her of something else as well.”

  Emma looked up. “What?”

  Michael made himself say the words. “Convince her she doesn’t love me. That I am nothing to her anymore, merely a mistake in her past.”

  Emma frowned. “What if I lose control again?”

  “You won’t. Not if you hang on to your guilt; use it as an anchor to your humanity.” Michael wasn’t confident he was right, but they had to try something. He wouldn’t have Judith live in danger.

  Emma stood. “All right, we will try it.”

  Michael nodded and sat on the other side of Judith and shook her gently. “Judith,” he cooed. “Judith, wake up now.”

  Her eyes fluttered again and Emma placed her head right above Judith’s. When Judith’s eyes opened, they locked with Emma’s.

  Michael sat back and observed. Judith didn’t move, her eyes remained wide open like a deer’s transfixed by a spotlight.

  “Judith.” Emma’s voice was different, lower, calmer – like the voice of the confessional. “You had an accident
. You were walking after dinner, you tripped and fell, and everything went black. You hurt your neck. You’re not sure how. You will be all right with some rest. And you realised something tonight. You no longer love Michael. He is but a past mistake. You have quite forgotten about him, in fact. He is someone in your distant memory who no longer matters to you, as the Ancients no longer matter to us—”

  “All right, I think that will do it.” Michael’s heart pulled with hurt. He was tempted to have Emma do the same to him so he wouldn’t feel the pain anymore.

  Emma spoke again. “Leave now, go home and rest. Tomorrow will be a better day for you.”

  Judith nodded, and as though in a daze she stood.

  Emma’s arm reached for Judith’s throat. “This will heal soon enough.” She buttoned the top of Judith’s cloak and wrapped her scarf around so that the blood on Judith’s white linen top didn’t show. “Goodbye, Judith.”

  “Goodbye,” Judith replied obediently, and she left without looking back.

  Michael closed his eyes. Judith was finally gone and out of his life, and she was safe.

  Chapter 22

  Michael tidies the bed and takes a last look around the room. “We have to leave; it’s nearly midnight.”

  I nod as I fill a paper bag with the small bottles from the drinks cabinet. Michael doesn’t like it, he says he doesn’t want to make more work for the Madame, but I will need the alcohol soon enough.

  There is blood splattered on my blue shirt. I can still smell it, but it doesn’t drive me wild with hunger, now it makes me sick with guilt. I force my mind back to my task. I cannot dwell on Judith or the paralysis will stall me. I didn’t kill her, so that was something.

  “You need to change.” Michael points to my clothes. “And you should look in the mirror; you’ve blood on your face.”

  I glare at him. “Was that a joke?”

  Michael closes his eyes. Exhaustion seems to weigh him down. “I’m sorry, I forgot about the reflections.”

  “We can go past my apartment. It’s on the way. I’ll change there.”

  Michael nods. “Let’s go.”

  Outside in the lane Michael takes the key out of his pocket and unlocks the car to put his suitcase in the back before stepping to the driver’s side.

  I block him. “I think it would be best if I drive. I know the way and my reflexes are quicker than yours. We’re running out of time, we need to move fast.”

  “I don’t want you to speed, Emma.”

  “I won’t.” I prise the key from him and have the engine rumbling before he can even blink. Sometimes my movements are so swift they even surprise me; I can feel the breeze they make.

  I drive through the city as fast as the speed limit permits. Michael clutches the dashboard at times. Waves of his panic hit me. My sensitivity to his emotions is enhanced. In fact, my senses are more alert to everything – light, colour, sound, smell – the world is sharper now.

  I park outside the pizzeria, which is closed at this late hour. As usual, it has a strange pull on me and I yearn for my old life when I used to eat here every Friday night and I’d chat with Antonio about Florence, but Antonio wouldn’t even recognise me now. Nate had seen to that, to cover his tracks he’d told me, making Antonio believe that he’d never known me. It was a trick of the mind, just as I’d done with Judith earlier. No, don’t think of Judith. The guilt threatens to rise and engulf me, but I swallow it down.

  I move swiftly to the blue door and open it. Inside I check my letterbox. Nothing. I’d cleared it only a few days ago.

  “We must hurry,” Michael says.

  “Yes.” I run up the stairs and open the door with super speed. My blood, muscles and tendons are energized, almost like I could fly. Judith’s blood has invigorated me and despite my guilt, I feel better, physically. I felt this way before – with the men in the alley. And before that with Jeanne. A thread of grief wraps its way through me and I take a breath, a conscious intake of air, and it actually helps for once.

  It’s peculiar. After gorging on human blood, I feel a strange mix of guilt and vitality. When the guilt wanes, it will be the closest I will come to feeling happy. Almost like a drug. And if I continue down that path will I become addicted? Will I lose the guilt? If Michael is right, it also means I’d lose my humanity.

  In my bedroom I open the closet. The scent of eucalyptus greets me. I lift a woollen vest and bury my face in it. Eucalyptus reminds me of sunshine – strong sunshine, and I miss it.

  “Emma, we need to hurry.”

  I nod and open the drawers, digging amongst the wardrobe for my darker clothes. There were too few of them. She always wore light pastels or floral prints. The Emma of the past was a romantic and her clothes matched her personality. But the new Emma was darker.

  I find two black T–shirts, a pair of dark jeans, and a deep blue cardigan. I grab some underwear for good measure and my black leather jacket. All items go in the small carry case I used for travelling to various digs.

  I shut the closet, enjoying the last of the eucalyptus before descending the stairs to wash the blood off my face in the bathroom and then I walk to the bookcase.

  “Are you ready to go?” Michael asks, his face a pattern of worry.

  “One more thing.” I scan the shelves and find the book in less than a second. I pick it up and read the title, “Tess of the D’Urbervilles,” and drop it in my case. “Let’s go.”

  We’re on the autoroute heading south in less than fifteen minutes. It’s well after midnight now. We’ve got six hours at the most before sunrise. I step on the accelerator, but keep the Renault just over the speed limit. We can’t afford to draw the attention of the police.

  I glance at Michael. He watches the road, but I sense he is miles away, deep in thought. Images of Judith flash in my mind, alongside deep regret. He’s brooding.

  “You were married to her, weren’t you?” I ask him. “You were married to Judith.”

  Michael looks at me as he pats his hair down, a habit of his, especially when he’s self-conscious. “Yes, but we got divorced.”

  A painful stab of jealousy emanates from him followed by deep grief, and an image comes to mind of Judith shutting a door, a suitcase in her hand. “She left you for another man, didn’t she?”

  Michael’s eyes widen. “Your mind-reading powers have improved all of the sudden.”

  “Yes, I’ve noticed that happens, as you mentioned once before. My powers – they seem to increase the more human blood I consume.”

  Michael stares ahead again.

  “So it’s true?” I persist.

  “Yes, it’s true. She left me for a Parisian businessman, the CEO of some multi-billion conglomerate. She became infatuated with him in a very short time, and in less than a month, she’d left me. We got a divorce, and she remarried within the year.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “About four years ago.”

  “And you never got over her.”

  He sighs. “I thought I had. I thought I’d forgotten all about her. Got my life on track. But the truth is, as soon as I saw her again all the – memories returned to the surface.”

  It is true. His sorrow fills the space of the car like a dense fog.

  “I’m sorry, Michael. I’m sorry for what I did.” The guilt remains strong within me, although not as bad as before. Interesting, it seems to be receding quicker this time.

  Michael adjusts his glasses. “Why did you do it? Why attack Judith?” His voice is calm, soothing even; he’s not bitter about it.

  I keep my eyes on the autoroute. “I think it was the emotion I felt between the two of you. It triggered the instinct. I saw red and it just took me; it took all of me. Next I knew you had pulled me off her and I was swallowing her blood. I’m sorry, Michael.” The guilt rises again like a suffocating blanket wrapping my heart with fire. What kind of fucked up monster have I become? Nate, you idiot. You’ve become Nate. My jaw clenches and I focus on the road and force myself
to calm my violent thoughts.

  “I could see it wasn’t you. You – changed. Did you know you change physically when it happens?”

  I shrug. “I have a vague idea. I don’t like to think about it.”

  We drive in silence for a moment, but Michael’s despondency continues to fill the space; it is relentless.

  “You know she felt regret, too? Judith was very sorry for what she did to you,” I tell him. The regret in Judith had been so strong it was consuming her. Perhaps if we talk about it, Michael will start to feel better and I won’t have to put up with his misery.

  “I know she did.” Michael’s voice is a whisper.

  “She loved you.”

  He exhales a heavy breath. “Yes, I know that, too. But it is for the best that she will forget me now. I don’t think we’d work out again. She’d only grow bored.” He closes his eyes and I sense his exhaustion.

  “Sleep,” I tell him.

  Michael looks at me. “No, I’m fine.”

  “It’s all right. You can trust me at the moment. The instincts are far away. I almost feel my old self. You’re exhausted and should get some sleep. I’ll wake you when we get there.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I nod. I am sure.

  Michael puts the seat down a little and turns his back, resting his head on his coat. It is not long before sleep takes him. His breath slows to a regular rhythm and his despair eases. The air becomes lighter when his sadness dissipates like morning mist in the rays of the sun. I put the radio on low and change the channel. A song plays—Ella Fitzgerald is singing Somewhere over the Rainbow, and I hum along quietly as we speed through the night.

  Chapter 23

  Excerpt from Michael D’Angelo’s Case Notes – Monday 1st December