Looking to Elizabeth’s face, I see black flakes slough off and pink skin forming underneath. I wrap my hand around hers, and we continue under the cover of the trees west to my house. A red glow grows just over the next hill, and the smell of smoke wafts to my nose. I drop Elizabeth’s fingers and run. At the crest, I stop short and drop to my belly. Only the chimney stands among a pile of embers. The men poke at the ashes. One of them uses a stick to overturn a body. The smell of metal hits my nose, and I bury my face in the grass.
Elizabeth covers my back with her arm and rolls me into her chest. “It’s just you and me, little dove.”
I want to scream and yell for my mother, but my survival instinct is stronger. Peeking out at the scene, I expect to see my parents, siblings rise at any moment. We lie there huddled on the ground waiting for the men to leave. But they don’t. They circle the bodies like birds of prey. I’m overwhelmed with confusion and hatred. How could my family be trapped? Why were the men able to overpower them? A gust of wind brings a new smell to my nostrils. The scent of honey, grain, and flowers surrounds me. I realize the beings are not human men but witches and squirm from Elizabeth’s embrace and ball my hands into fists.
Elizabeth grips my shoulders. “We’re no match for them. We must go.”
Perhaps human children do not comprehend death at the age of two, but vampires do. I’m taught to recognize, even value, the animals I take for food. But these deaths were not like those of the bird or rabbit. What purpose did they serve? A guttural scream forms in my chest, and I yell into the dirt. Red mud forms under me as my bloody tears soak the ground. Elizabeth tugs me from the spot, and the earth cakes under my nails as I fight being separated from my family.
Stronger than me, she snatches me up and tucks me under one arm. I cling to her as she runs, my only sensations the wind in my hair and the smell of her skin. There is a slight pause, and fabric appears around me. Her pulse quickens, and breath comes faster as we climb a ridge and descend again. When her pace slows, I open my eyes to near darkness. A brook gurgles beside me, and Elizabeth lowers me into the stream. Tall trees tower over my head, blocking the sky from my view.
“Wash,” she instructs, splashing water over her pink healing skin.
I slip off the red silk dress and wash and change into a cotton tunic from a clothes line Elizabeth raided. Climbing up a tree, she breaks branches and makes a bed of leaves. “Rest child. I will keep you safe.”
I point to my silk dress, and she hands me the garment. Clutching it to my chest, I climb to the nest and lie down as she instructs. Images of the orange flames engulfing Elizabeth’s home, my cottage, the memory of the heat wafting off the structures, the bitter smell of metal, and the sweet tinge of witches causes bile to rise in my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut and cover my ears with my hands.
“All will be well,” Elizabeth whispers, smoothing my hair.
Spent from the trauma, I drift into a resting slumber. Vampires do not sleep as humans do. We rest more like cats, in a semi-alert state. After some time, bouncing branches jostle me. I lift my head and peer to the ground below. Elizabeth straddles a deer, her teeth dug into the major artery of its neck. Climbing down the trunk, I watch as she gets her fill. As she drinks, sections of skin returns to its tan color, and new hairs, like fuzz of a peach, replace the singed wisps on her head. When full, she offers me the remaining blood from the animal.
We drag the deer downstream for other animals to feed on. Following the water as it winds through the valley, we look for shelter. I love frolicking in the darkness, jumping rocks and fording tree stumps, but not this night. With every step, the image of my burning home replays through my brain.
Finding a cavity a few feet up an embankment, we dig out the back so there’s space for both of us to lie down. I snuggle in beside Elizabeth, the red dress still tight in my arms, realizing my mother will never come for me. Elizabeth rubs my head and kisses my cheek.
“You rest,” I whisper into her ear. She falls into a sleep-like state. Too confused and anxious to be still, I crawl to the opening, watching and listening for any sign of danger.
We spend two days in the cave, waiting for Elizabeth’s skin and hair to heal. During the day, I hunt rabbits and squirrels. At night, we wait in the trees above the stream for deer. The third day, we rouse at first light, wash our clothes in the stream, and hang them in the sun to dry. By midday, we start out.
“We’re going to London, England,” Elizabeth tells me as we find a road. “We’ll travel to the sea and cross to England on a boat. The Catholic Church is not as active there. Being Protestant is tolerated in England, and it will be safe.” I assume we are to be Protestant now. For all the people at the French court, we attended Catholic mass, pretending to practice their religion to avoid persecution. I realize we failed. Witches found us.
Elizabeth trades labor for shoes, food, and rides across the countryside. It takes us ten days to arrive at the port. The seaside city bustles with more people than I’ve ever seen. A horrible stench invades my nostrils as we walk through the streets, and I cover my nose with my sleeve. Elizabeth swats my hand from my face as she pulls me along the cobbled street. Stopping in front of a structure reeking of cooked meat, Elizabeth leads me inside. She inquires about work and serves food to the loud humans gathered there. I hold my skirt over my nostrils to keep the smell of their blood from making me crazed with hunger. Elizabeth's payment is a loaf of bread and some broth. She tears small pieces and dips them in the meat drippings, telling me to go easy so my stomach will adjust to the food. I don’t prefer the taste, but it fills my belly. After nightfall, as the town grows quiet, we creep through the alleys to the docks.
The first ship we board is empty, and we jump to the second. Finding its hull full of supplies, we hide among the boxes. At daybreak, the crew boards, and the ship sets sail. We bounce on the waves, and I hate being unable to tell where we are and how far we’ve traveled. At night, I crouch through empty spaces and find drinking water. When I bring several rats back to Elizabeth for food, she hits them from my hands and kicks the animals away. She uses the water to wash us, and I weave through the boxes again to procure more water and food. I return with a chicken and a mug, and although she doesn’t look happy, she accepts the bird. It is one more day and a night before the ship docks. Again, we wait till it’s dark to make our way to land.
In the town, we find a building where they house animals and make a bed of hay in the loft. The horses and scent of the fresh grass reminds me of home, and my eyes begin to tear.
“There, there, little dove, we’ve had enough tears for a lifetime. Tomorrow, you’ll learn proper English.” Elizabeth hugs me to her chest and sings my lullaby. Falling into a dream-filled slumber, the faces of my family members flash through my mind. Mother in her chateau gown, hasn’t changed since returning from attending her lady, father in his chainmail, Beatrice with her blue bow, Sebastian with soiled shirt, and Mina sewing cloth in her lap, sit around our table, enjoying dinner.
Hearing the rooster crow, I rouse with a start to the unfamiliar surroundings. We wash and I follow Elizabeth through the streets. She teaches me English, pointing to various things and repeating the correct word. We stop at an inn, and she reminds me of my curtsey, which I practice before we enter. I hide behind her skirt as she talks to the innkeeper. We move to two more shops before she finds an owner willing to trade rations for labor. I play beside the hearth as she works, listening to the odd dialect and committing all to memory.
The day affords us more than a meal as she finds transport to London. We rest in the inn’s stable for the night and, at first light, board the back of a cart bound for the great city. As we pass frost-covered fields, Elizabeth continues my language training. We’re at an advantage as vampires, because I’ll remember everything exactly as she teaches me. The carriage bumps over the rocky path for two days before the countryside begins to meld into house-dotted plots and then building-lined streets.
I’m
used to pastures and forest land, and the smell and noise of so many humans, animals, fires, and cooked meats overwhelms my senses as we enter the city. The driver has fish he delivers to inns, and Elizabeth, who I have been instructed to call mother, helps him carry boxes to each customer. Not knowing the dangers of the strange environment, I stay fast on her heels.
A large man with a round belly licks meat drippings from his mouth as we approach a table at the last stop. “Well, what have ye here, Adam?”
“Greetings, Walter, a widow from the coast, looking for work.” Adam motions to Elizabeth.
Walter heaves his large frame to a standing position. “She’s too little for the inn. My brother’s master is looking for kitchen help though.”
Adam looks to Elizabeth who nods. It’s late, and we cannot meet the brother till the next day. Elizabeth and I clean the kitchen and dining room in exchange for a meal and room in his stable. Walter doesn’t include meat with our plates, and watching the chickens strut across the barn, my mouth begins to water.
“Child, come here.” Elizabeth offers me her hand. I follow her to the back door of the inn, where she raps on the weathered wood door.
Walter greets us with a stern look. “What is it, woman?”
“Please, my child’s belly will be empty before dawn without meat.”
I meet Walter’s stare with pleading eyes. A sneer spreads across his face, and he takes a step towards us. “Well, that may require some extra work, woman.” Quicker than I thought he could move, his arm wraps around Elizabeth and grabs her buttocks. My pulse quickens as I witness the scene. I know Elizabeth can defend herself, but I’ve been taught that hiding our nature trumps almost every other response. As he backs her towards the wall, I extend my leg into his path, causing his huge form to come down on the floor with a thud. “Uhhh,” he screams. “What has that child done?”
“Are you hurt?” Elizabeth kneels beside him.
“My head.” His hand moves to his oily hair. Rubbing the back of his head, he produces bloody fingers.
My eyes fix on the red liquid. The hint of metal wafts to my nostrils, and I begin to salivate. I lick my lips and take a step towards the grotesque man, ignoring the smell of rotting hops from his clothes and lard from his skin and hair. I remember the time I bit Finn, Elizabeth’s mate, how his blood tasted better than anything else I’d ever eaten. I stare at the dirty man’s wound.
Elizabeth grabs my arm with a vice-like grip. “Anne, get a clean wet rag from the kitchen. Go, now.”
My trance broken, I run to the sink. Pushing a crate up to the tub, I climb up and reach for the wash cloth we’d used earlier. I use the bowl beside the water bucket to soak the fabric. Walking slowly back to Elizabeth, I hold the rag out to her.
“Good child.” Her eyes are fixed on mine. “Sit by the wall while I tend his wounds.” Apologizing for my clumsiness, she wipes Walter’s head and face. “You have a pretty bad bump there, you should get some rest.”
“I believe it may be for the best that I retire for the evening. Go.” With a booming voice, he shoos us out the door and locks it behind us.
Elizabeth takes my hand as we enter the barn. She lowers herself to the makeshift bed of hay we created. “Good work there, child. I’m proud of you.”
My head cocks to the roof as I hear the coo of a dove. Elizabeth runs her hands down my arms. “Let the birds alone. We’ll have meat tomorrow. The doves are your spirit animal. They will remind you of your family and happy times. When you see a dove, think of your parents and the love they had for you. It will bring you comfort.”
After smelling Walter’s blood, all I want is to drain the animal. Still, I obey Elizabeth and lie down on the soft hay. Even with my eyes closed, I stay alert as I imagine Elizabeth does also. There are too many odd sounds, and I fear Walter will come for her in the night.
With the breaking dawn, I squat behind the barn to relieve myself. The doves coo above my head, and I fight the instinct to climb the roof to them. If nothing else, their eggs would satiate my hunger for a bit.
Elizabeth and I wash in the watering trough. After we’ve cleaned up, she bends down and puts her hands on both my shoulders. “We might see a lot of people today. Remember to call me mother and smile and curtsey as I taught you, okay?”
I nod and follow her into the inn. Walter sweeps past, carrying plates of bread and eggs, and my stomach grumbles. I tug on Elizabeth’s skirt, and she nods and holds up a finger, signaling for me to be patient. Older vampires may go for days without blood or meat, but younglings need more food. Most days I even ate as much as Finn. The thought reminds me of his big smile and how he would chase Elle, Hank, and me about the house. I push out memories of my own father, his square chin, dark beard, how he would rub my head before he left for the castle each day.
“Can I provide help for a meal?” Elizabeth asks Walter as he passes again.
“You’re in luck. My bar maid’s missing. Grab an apron, woman.”
Following Elizabeth to the kitchen, I help as she loads plates, stirs the pots, and washes the used dishes. We work until mid-afternoon when the place clears of patrons.
“Sir?” Elizabeth and I approach Walter. “May I have a meal for my daughter now?”
“Sure woman.” He waves us away.
“And what of your brother? Will you take us to him?”
A gruff laugh erupts from his mouth. “I don’t have a brother. But, as long as I don’t have my maid, you can work for me and sleep in my barn.”
“Perhaps I’ll go out and look for work and be back for supper time.”
“Suit yourself.” He turns his attention to the plate in front of him.
We go to the kitchen, and Elizabeth scrapes the last of the meat on a plate for me. I insist she take half, and we sit on the floor eating our portions that equal half what my meal would have been. The cooked food tastes bland, but it starts to fill my belly. When I reach for a bread roll left on the counter, Elizabeth takes it and breaks a piece off for me.
“Remember, just a bit till your belly adjusts.”
“I know.” Tired of her correcting me, I puff out my bottom lip and fold my arms across my chest.
“I’m sorry, dear.” She pats my head. “I know you’re not like—” She blinks as bloody tears form in her eyes. “Enough rest.” She stands. “I need to wash up and find a decent job.”
“Elizabeth.” I tug at her skirt, regretting causing her sadness. “I’m sorry. I know you miss them.”
“It’s okay.” She squats and kisses my forehead.
Washing in the barn, she instructs me to stay close. We make our way to the busy street. Horse-drawn carts and carriages roll past, causing dust to mill through the air. People line the cobble walks in front of the buildings that rise two and three stories into the sky. At every place of business, pub, shop, office, Elizabeth asks about work. The shopkeeper’s eyes wander from her to me, and each answer is the same. They don’t need any help.
We repeat this day for the next three in different sections of the city. At least our luck holds at Walter’s pub, as his bar maid doesn’t return.
“You’re not bad in the kitchen,” Walter notes the fourth night. “I could clear a room for you upstairs.”
“That’s a nice offer. I’ll think about it,” Elizabeth tells him as she stows her apron on the counter.
With barely two meals, my stomach gnaws at its lining as I lie on the hay. The doves coo above my head, and all I can picture is the red liquid that would flow from their necks and the sweet taste of their eggs. I watch a chicken saunter by and think that tomorrow I’ll eat her if we cannot find better provisions.
Tormented by hunger, the night is long and dark. I rise before the sun, my stomach still in knots. My eyes find the chicken resting on its nest. Moving slow and quiet, I inch towards the bird. Just as I’m about to reach out and grab its neck, Elizabeth snatches me up.
“I’ll find you food today, child,” she whispers in my ear as she hugs me to her
chest. “We haven’t made it to the north side of the city yet. We’ll go there today. But we can’t have a bad reputation following us.”
She sets me on my hay bed and starts to braid my hair. “You remember all your manners and to call me mother?”
“Yes, you know I do.”
“Of course.” Wrapping her arms around me, she squeezes my shoulders. I wonder if I’ve saddened her once more and pledge that I will not remind her again. She presses her lips to my temple, leaving a cool, wet imprint. “I love you, child. All will be well.”
We wash and approach the back door of the pub. It’s quiet inside, and Elizabeth starts the meat and the bread. Standing on a bucket, I copy her actions, kneading the bread as she fetches the eggs from the stable. Every other day she’s asked me to, and I’m disappointed to have lost the chance to steal one. In my next thought, I rebuke myself for lusting after the eggs. I remember the verses Finn used to read to us as we sat by the fire: you shall not kill, you shall not commit adultery. I don’t know what that one means, but the next was you shall not steal, and it continued, you shall not covet your neighbor’s wife, nor his male or female slave, nor his ox or ass, nor anything else that belongs to him.
I hear heavy footsteps on the pub’s floor, and Walter appears in the doorway. “Where’s your mother?”
“She went to fetch some eggs.”
“So, you can speak. I thought you were dumb.”
“No, sir.” I lower my eyes to the flour-covered table.
“There are twice as many eggs today.” Elizabeth materializes behind the broad man.
“Hmm.” Walter steps back to let Elizabeth into the kitchen, his eyes trained on her bottom. “Have you decided if you’re staying?”
The Kingdom Journals Complete Series Box Set Page 74