by Linn Chapel
“Does it have mechanical knights, too?” asked Tressa, relaxing a bit.
“Yes, but they’re on horseback, and they chase each other in a circle when the clock strikes. Whenever I came here as a boy, I would stand below it, waiting for the hour to chime so that the knights would ride.” He added, “It’s strange to see everything in the daylight again. It’s even stranger to hear a clock striking twelve for the hour of noon, instead of midnight.”
Holt remained thoughtful and he spoke very little as they collected Luke from the café. Although Luke’s face was tight with speculation, he would give them no details, saying only that he’d share his findings that evening after he’d scanned everyone with the Bug Catcher.
Soon they were on their way back to Langley in the estate car, with Holt at the wheel. It wasn’t long before he swung the car off the small country highway.
As they entered the unpaved lane that ran through the Langley estate and trundled slowly along, Tressa felt a sudden change in the atmosphere. She’d had the same feeling when they’d arrived on the previous night, and now, in the sunlight, the sensation was even stronger.
Overhead, the gnarled branches of the ancient trees met like benevolent arms. Woodland shrubs grew tall in the shade on either side of the lane and wove their branches into the protective canopy of leaves above. Gazing out the window, Tressa felt as if they were passing through a tunnel of green, dappled light.
The lane curved and a clearing in the trees appeared on the right. Sunshine poured down upon a hedgerow bursting with delicate white flowers. As the lane curved onward, Tressa spotted an even smaller lane branching off to the left. Beyond the woodland undergrowth, Tressa caught a brief glimpse of another clearing.
Then the estate car passed over the little stone bridge she’d noticed the previous night. Below, Tressa could see the waters of Langley’s stream glinting in the sun. Soon Arbor Cottage came into sight on the right, nestled at the bottom of a wooded slope. Pulling the estate car into the driveway, Holt parked next to a lilac hedge that was heavy with fragrant purple blossoms. Even in the car, Tressa could smell their sweet scent.
Peter and Luke lost no time in entering the cottage, hopeful of finding lunch. As Tressa stepped from the car, she glanced cautiously at Holt. He was still in the same thoughtful mood that had come over him in Wells.
“Langley is so beautiful. Has it changed very much since you were a boy?” she asked him softly.
Holt gazed down the little lane with its border of trees and hedgerows. A short distance away, the thatched roof of Cup Cottage rose above a mound of purple and white lilacs. “Langley has always been very lovely in the springtime. It looks much the same as it did two hundred years ago, only it’s emptier now,” he said musingly. “It’s nearly the first of May, and in the past, the lane was filled with children on that happy day.”
“Did you hold the traditional May games?”
“Yes, every year. The games took place near the manor, but bands of children ran up and down the lane, making merry. Or making mischief. My sisters and their friends were always shrieking,” he added, laughing under his breath. “I confess that I was much given to baiting them.”
Tressa smiled. “Were you a hellion?”
Holt shot her a wry look. “I was the heir, Tressa. Naturally, I behaved like a scamp whenever I could. I knew that the weight of responsibility would settle on my shoulders one day. Or so I believed.”
She gazed down the lane, trying to imagine it filled with children. “Why is Langley so empty now?”
Holt said matter-of-factly, “Wars, Tressa, and emigration. And taxes,” he bit out in a harder tone. “The taxes became so burdensome that the estate was nearly parceled out and sold a few decades ago. Fortunately, a plan was made to rent some of the cottages to summer visitors. They’re on the other side of the ridge,” he said with a nod at the wooded slope behind them.
“You were the one who came up with that plan, weren’t you?”
“Yes, and I helped most of the locals to stay on. No one knew my real identity. No one, but for Hugh’s father, who was a descendant of my most trusted retainer. He became the caretaker of the cottages, and when he died about twenty years ago, Hugh stepped into the role.” Holt added, “By the way, if Hugh seems to be acting a bit strangely, pay no attention to him.”
“Why? What’s the matter?” asked Tressa, concerned.
Holt’s voice grew chilly and distant. “Hugh worries about my daytime activities. He wants me to hide away and sleep during the sunlit hours. Poor fellow – he has good intentions.”
“Haven’t you told him about the transition?” Tressa said in surprise.
A shuttered look came over Holt’s face. “I shall do everything in my own time.” He left her standing at the garden gate as he strode abruptly down the lane.
Tressa blinked away the tears that had suddenly filled her eyes. Holt could talk about his boyhood, and even about Langley’s sad decline, but he couldn’t talk about the transition.
As Tressa passed through the gate and walked up to the cottage door, she tried to hide her misery so that Peter and Luke would ask her no questions.
Night was approaching and the two figures of her brothers were no more than dim shapes ahead of Tressa as she trailed behind them on the lane.
Soon Peter and Luke passed through the garden gate and made their way inside Cup Cottage. A light was switched on and the front windows glowed.
She wished that Luke hadn’t made plans for an evening meeting. If only she could go upstairs to her chamber and read one of the books that she’d found on the Langley shelves, or sit quietly by herself – anything, so that she wouldn’t have to see Holt tonight.
She wondered what he would do when he arrived. Would he try to make amends for the way he had stalked off, or would he just stare across the room, never meeting her eyes?
As she walked slowly up to the gate, she took a lingering breath of the cool evening air before joining her brothers. The scent of lilacs was strong, and in the light of the half-moon the blossoms showed as pale splotches amid the mounds of dark foliage.
She opened the garden gate and was just about to enter when she heard her name.
“Tressa.” It was Holt’s voice, calling to her from a distance.
Peering down the lane, she saw him approaching in the moonlight. Tressa’s pulse sped up unevenly as she waited next to the gate, wondering what his mood would be.
But instead of joining her, he stopped and called into the trees, “Come out, Wesley! She won’t be alarmed by your presence.”
Suddenly, a second figure was standing next to Holt. Tressa drew in a startled breath, for such rapid movement could mean only one thing.
As the pair approached Tressa, she noticed that Holt’s companion was slight, almost frail, and that he was wearing a vest and an old-fashioned tweed jacket.
“Tressa, I should like you to meet Wesley Pendleton. He’s not human, as you might have guessed, but I can vouch for his character. He’s just arrived from London.” Holt turned to his friend. “Wesley, allow me to introduce you to Theresa Newman.”
“Miss Newman! I am more honored than you can imagine to make your acquaintance!” Wesley’s gaze darted over Tressa as she stood there in the moonlight, traveling with interest all the way from her face down to her feet. “I’ve already learned the facts of your heritage from John, but he neglected to tell me how lovely you are.” He sent an arch look at Holt, who frowned and glanced away, into the trees.
Wesley stepped a little closer to Tressa. “May I shake your hand?”
Tressa felt safe enough with Wesley, knowing that Holt approved of him. When she clasped the vampire’s hand, his skin was as cool as she had expected. “It’s nice to meet you, Wesley,” she said politely.
Wesley released her hand. Moments passed by in utter silence as he studied her even more closely by the light of the half-moon. Finally, Tressa murmured in a mild voice, “Would you like to bring out a magnifying glass
?”
Wesley gave a flustered laugh. “My dear, I’ve been inexcusably rude,” he apologized. “You must pardon my lack of manners. I know what has been happening to my old friend, you see. Meeting you is like discovering that the ancient alchemists were right after all, and that a common metal can be turned to gold.” He leaned forward. “I intend no disrespect, of course, but could I hold your hand once more?”
She smiled and nodded. Wesley pressed the hand she offered in a gentle, exploratory way with his own fingers, and then he slowly lifted it up to his face. She heard him breathe in.
“Something about you is different. It could be your scent, for it seems cooler than a human’s, almost like mint or evergreens. But if John had not alerted me, I would not have guessed that you’re only half-human.” Wesley released her hand at last.
“I can tell that you want to ask me some questions. What would you like to know?”
“How kind of you, my dear, to indulge my curiosity. Tell me, is your lifespan longer than a human’s years?” he asked.
“No,” she answered.
“But you must be physically stronger,” Wesley said.
“No, I’m not.”
“Are you mentally gifted, then?”
“No, I’m afraid not,” she said with a laugh.
“Hmmm, very curious. But you must require different food and drink,” he stated.
“No, normal food will do.” She smiled at Wesley a bit ruefully. “I’m sorry. I’m really not that fascinating.”
“Please, do not make light of yourself,” Wesley said.
Holt crossed his arms over his chest. “There’s more to being half-Mysterium than she admits. Tressa has never given me a full account, but tonight she will.” Holt’s voice was firm. It was clear that one way or another, Holt meant to have an explanation of her recent brush with a demon.
“Shall we go inside?” Holt swung open the garden gate and gestured for her to enter.
Tressa led the way up the front path with a feeling of trepidation. As she stepped inside the door of Cup Cottage, she was greeted at once by Luke.
“I’ve already scanned Peter with the Bug Catcher, and then he checked me. We’re both clean.” Luke beamed the red light of the Bug Catcher up and down Tressa’s body and then ushered her into the living room with a wave of his hand. “You’re clean, too, Tressa.”
Luke turned next to Holt. But as he lifted the Bug Catcher, he noticed for the first time the slightly-built older man dressed in a tweed jacket who was standing just behind Holt.
Twenty-five
Luke’s eyes widened and he gave a little yelp.
Holt quickly said, “Allow me to introduce you to my friend from London, Wesley Pendleton. I can assure you that he will not be a threat. Wesley, I would like you to meet Luke Newman and his brother Peter.” Holt gave a nod to Peter, who stood nearby.
“I’m honored to meet you,” said Wesley as he stepped through the doorway. He came to stand next to Holt. “How did you guess my true nature so quickly?” he inquired of Luke.
Luke shrank back uncomfortably. “The old clothes. Nobody wears an outfit like that in this century. And your pale skin stands out next to Holt’s. He’s looking very human these days.” He shot Holt a suspicious look. “I didn’t think vampires ever made friends with each other.”
Holt exchanged a brief look with Wesley. “We became friends anyway, and we’ve learned to keep a certain distance to preserve that friendship.”
“I was turned long before John,” Wesley said reminiscently. “When I heard rumors that an author I admired had suffered the same fate as myself, I followed his trail until I found him.”
Holt’s eyes warmed. “Wesley and the books in his London shop were a blessing, the only good fortune in the darkness of my existence. I’m sure he never expected anything to change in either of our lives. But only a few days ago, while we were in London, I let myself into Wesley’s shop so that I could leave him a message. He was sleeping in the back room as I expected, but just as I was leaving, he woke up. Almost instantly he noticed something different about me. I told him about the transition. He came to Langley to learn more about it.”
Luke frowned. “There are some other things, important things, that we need to talk about tonight. I’m afraid we can’t bring him into our discussion. It’s too risky.”
Holt flicked a glance sideways at Wesley. “You’re wrong, Luke. He’s worthy of our trust, and taking him into our confidence will be to our advantage. He can keep a watchful eye on the London scene for us.”
Peter drew the group inside the cottage and closed the door. He turned to the newcomer. “Wesley, are you here because you want to make the transition yourself?”
Wesley’s sunken eyes lit up. “Yes, of course I do. But Holt and I have agreed that I should take no action for the time being. I can be of more help in London if I keep my powers.”
As Peter and Wesley had been talking, Luke had been edging further away from Wesley.
Holt smiled wryly as he noted Luke’s unease. “Fear not! I can vouch for Wesley. He has the same instincts as every other vampire, but he’s more fastidious. It has been many years since he hunted for human prey.”
Wesley’s lingered on Holt. “And many years for you, as well. You followed my ways ever since I found you.” Wesley’s eyes darted around the gathering. “Are you filled with confusion? Then I shall dispel it for you. Ever since I was turned, I have studied any medical treatises that came through my shop, you see. I wondered if there could be some way to undo my fate. I never found one, but I learned about many useful things, such as the devices that could enable a blood transfusion between two humans. I obtained some early syringes and used them to extract the blood I needed from drunkards. It seemed less of a violation than the usual hunt for prey. As the years passed, I learned that experiments were taking place at St. Mary’s Hospital in London in an effort to store human blood for transfusions. I decided to obtain – no, to steal – some of that stored blood at night.” His wrinkled face took on a look of cunning.
Holt shook his head. “Wesley, you were never anything like a criminal mastermind,” he said in a dampening tone. He turned to the rest of the group. “What Wesley didn’t tell you was that the early experiments were not entirely successful and the bottles that we ‘stole’ had already been set aside for disposal. For our needs, though, the blood was adequate.”
Wesley continued with a huff. “I know that you found it tediously simple to enter the hospital at night, John. But for me, the planning and the secrecy were quite invigorating. Then during the Great War the experiments finally succeeded, and the stored blood was sent to the medics’ tents. After that, it became easier and easier to find in any hospital. Did you have any trouble at the American hospitals once you moved away from London, John?”
Holt looked in Tressa’s direction. “Security made it more difficult to enter hospitals over the years, but if I waited, I could always find a way to slip in at night.”
Understanding thrummed through Tressa as he held her gaze for another moment.
Pouches of stored blood – that was why he’d formed the habit of waiting in the dark outside the hospital where she worked. She should have known that Holt had found some way to survive that didn’t involve preying upon human victims year after year, or slaughtering small woodland creatures in the forest. She had never been able to reconcile the gentleness of his touch with either of those alternatives.
But Holt wasn’t always gentle, she reminded herself. He could be dangerous, too. And high-strung. She watched him standing just inside the door, with his arms crossed over his chest, looking irritable and impatient.
“Shall we proceed with our meeting, Luke?” he growled.
Doubt still clouded Luke’s face. “Maybe Tressa should read Wesley’s intentions first, just to be sure.”
“There’s no need to go that far,” Peter interjected. “If Holt trusts him, that’s good enough.”
“Alright.”
Luke nodded, and then turned to Holt and Wesley. “I’ve already scanned everyone here for hidden devices. If you don’t mind, I’ll scan both of you as well, and then we can get down to business.”
He switched on the Bug Catcher and beamed it over Holt, who frowned in annoyance as the red circle of light ran down his black clothing and then swept over his boots.
Wesley stepped up next, giving the metal tube of the Bug Catcher a quizzical look. As Holt quietly explained its purpose, the red circle swept over Wesley’s tweed jacket and old-fashioned waistcoat. The red light then moved on to the small canvas bag that Wesley carried in one hand before traveling down his trim pants and ending on his neat leather shoes.
Satisfied, Luke ushered everyone into the living room. “I’ve already scanned the premises. We can talk freely now.”
Within the room, flickering firelight cast a pattern of light and shadow over the simple country furnishings and the heavy beams overhead. As Luke took up a stance in front of the fireplace, Tressa came to sit on the sofa next to Peter.
On the other side of the hearth, Holt lounged back in an armchair, looking deceptively at ease, much like a panther biding its time until it was ready to spring. Nearby, Wesley had taken a spot in a second armchair. As he perched on the edge of its seat, his sunken eyes moved from one member of the group to another, filled with questions.
Tressa could see Wesley’s features better now that they were indoors. His neatly trimmed hair was mostly gray and his thin face bore the wrinkles of age. The dark circles that lay underneath his eyes contrasted sharply with the pallor of his skin. He would have been about seventy years old when he was turned, Tressa thought.
Wesley turned to Luke. “Forgive me for delaying the start of your meeting, but I am puzzled. What did you mean by reading my intentions?”
“I was just being cautious, Wesley. Did Holt tell you about our Mysterium heritage?”