Excerpt
“And what the dead had
no speech for, when living,
They can tell you,
being dead: the communication
Of the dead is tongued
with fire beyond the language of the living.”
The simple act of speaking to and hugging the man who had
saved me was too much for my poor body.
I had drifted off to sleep in the man’s arms, and when I woke again, I
was alone. It was still night, but for
some reason it was very easy to see.
Everything, all of my belongings, seemed much clearer than they should,
almost as if I was seeing them in daylight.
But I could tell by the sounds from the street, and the bright crescent
moon shining through my curtains, that it was indeed still night. I was puzzled; where had the man gone? I rose hesitantly from my bed, and walked to
the window. Opening it, I felt a breeze
blow past me, and prepared to shiver.
But when the shiver never came, I frowned. The breeze didn’t feel any colder than a June
breeze would, even though it was snowing lightly. A snowy, February night in New York, with the
North wind blowing through my window, and I’m not cold? I looked down, and realized that I was only
wearing my nightgown, and my confusion deepened. I should have been freezing, but I wasn’t.
Then, as I searched the street with my eyes for the man, I
began to notice other things. I
realized that I could see the tiny cracks in the brick paved streets, even here
from my second floor window and in the dark.
I could see the individual blades of grass from Mrs. Malone’s front yard
across the street and down three houses.
I could hear the sounds of carousing from the tavern two blocks away,
and pick out individual voices from inside it.
I could hear an owl hooting somewhere in the park three blocks in the
other direction, and the sounds of mice scurrying across the floor in the attic
above me.
I could smell the scents of trees in the breeze, and even
tell which kinds of trees they were from, though they were deep in their winter
slumber. I could smell the dogs that
wandered the street below, and the agile cats I saw jumping across the
rooftops. I could even detect the musty odor from within the house.
I could feel the grain in the smooth wood of the window sill
as I leaned against it. I felt the
slight indentations where the planning tools had made cuts of different
depths--things that I had never noticed even with my eyes in broad daylight as
I’d sat at the window countless times before.
Now, I could feel them under my fingertips in the dark. What was happening to me? I reeled back from the window, my body
experiencing a sensory overload.
I squeezed my eyes shut and covered my ears, started
breathing through my mouth--anything I could think of to cut off the rush of
unfamiliar sights, sounds, and odors.
But it was no use. The
overwhelming bombardment slowed, but didn’t entirely cease. I stumbled across the room towards the
door. I had to find the man! Where was
he?
That’s when I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I froze a moment, staring at the stranger I
saw reflected there. I gasped, slapping
my hands over my mouth to stop the scream I felt building in my throat. That--that couldn’t be me! My mind wouldn’t allow it, couldn’t handle
it. Whoever she was, she was far too
beautiful to be me. I’d never thought of
myself as vain, but I knew that I was considered by others to be something of a
beauty. My father had been trying
desperately to marry me off, ever since I had turned seventeen a few months
ago. Of course, no one had caught my
fancy, although there had been several men vying for my affections.
But the girl that stared back at me from my mirror...this
girl, she just couldn’t be me! The urge
to scream subsided. I slowly lowered my hands from my mouth, and the girl in
the mirror copied me. Yes, that was
me. I mean, I looked enough like me to
know it was me, but it was different…almost unbearable to look at. My violet eyes were an even deeper shade of
violet, and looked as if they had grown slightly larger, making them more
noticeable. A faint glow seemed to come
from them as well. My light brown hair
had grown deeper brown and longer. My
body had filled out some, and grown curvier, shapelier. I put my hands on my face, feeling the utter
smoothness. I looked closer…not a single
blemish of any kind marred my complexion, which had become very pale, far more
so than my normal fair skin tone.
I couldn’t stand to look at the inhuman beauty I had somehow
been gifted with. Yes, that was the
word--inhuman…too perfect for any human to have. The change in my looks, coupled with the
change in my five senses, overwhelmed me then.
Dear God in Heaven, what was I? What had happened to me? The man--he would know! I had to find the man!
I turned to run from my room, and before I even realized it,
I was on the front steps. I looked down
at my bare feet, which were not chilled in the slightest despite the snow that
stood three inches deep on the ground.
How had I gotten here so quickly, I wondered? I looked back at the house. One second I’d been standing in my room, the
next I was outside on the porch steps.
And how long had I stood staring at myself in the mirror? There had only been a dusting of snow when I
was looking out my window. Now it
covered the ground like a white velvet blanket.
Before I could make sense of any of this, I noticed the
outline of footprints leading to the street, and away down the sidewalk.
Footprints going, but not returning.
They must be the man’s. And he
must have just left recently, since the snow hadn’t covered his footprints
yet. But why had he left? I began to panic. Had he abandoned me? No! I
had to find him! He couldn’t leave me--I
needed him! I became frantic; but
suddenly, I felt dizzy again.
I staggered out into the snow, and followed the footprints
down the street a way. Then I smelled
something--something so wonderfully delicious my mind locked up and focused
only on that scent. Oh, what was
it? It smelled as good as the medicine I
had tasted before. A policeman was
walking towards me, and my mind recovered enough to realize that he was
speaking to me.
“Miss! You shouldn’t
be outside on a night like this! And especially dressed as you are!” His voice changed from a tone of concern to
one of reproach. “Why, that’s indecent,
young lady! Where do you live? I‘ll have to take you home, and have a word
with your parents! Come along now! You‘ll catch your death in this weather!”
“But I’m not cold,” said a sweet, seductive voice that came
from my mouth. “I am hungry,
though. Oh, so hungry!” My voice, but not my voice; just as the girl
in the mirror had been me and yet not me.
I walked toward him, my head slightly lowered. The sweet smell grew as I approached him, and
my mind started to recede again, the dizziness returning. I was only a couple feet away from him
now. His face grew surprised when he saw
me, and his eyes widened. A low growl
reached my ears from somewhere. Probably
one of the stray dogs that roamed around our neighborhood.
“What’s wrong with your eyes, miss?” The policeman
asked. “Are you drunk?” I lurched forward at him, and he caught me
before I could fall.
I must have blacked out again after that, because the next
thing I knew, I was about a block farther down the street. I didn’t know where I was, or why I was
there. I heard footsteps approaching
from around the corner, and then I saw him, and remembered. It was the man, and I had gone out to try and
find him.
“Daddy!” I cried, throwing myself into his arms. His face registered surprise for a moment,
and then he held me at arm’s length, staring at me intently.
“What are you doing out of the house?” He had a worried tone
in his voice. Taking my arm, he hurried me back along the way I had come,
looking furtively left and right the whole time.
“I came looking for you,” I told him in that new, honey
sweet, voice. “I woke up, and you were
gone! I panicked! I-I don‘t want to be alone! What‘s happening, Daddy? What‘s happened to me??”
“Thank the Creator the snow’s keeping most people indoors
tonight,” he muttered. Suddenly he
stopped dead. I had been staring at his
face, memorizing his features and noticing his kind, fear filled eyes. Now they were looking with horror at the
ground in front of us. I looked too, and
gasped.
It was the policeman I had met earlier. But he was lying on the ground, his throat
torn out, his eyes wide and staring up at nothing.
“What happened to him?” I whispered tremulously. “I--I just saw him a little bit ago! We talked.
He was upset that I was out in the cold, but he was fine! Wh-what could have happened?”
Daddy stared at the corpse a few more moments, then looked
at me. He sighed, and rubbed his
eyes. He mumbled something in a language
I didn’t understand, and looked back at me.
I looked down at the body of the policeman, and tried to remember what
had happened when I’d met him. But I
couldn’t. I looked back up at the
man. “Did I do something wrong, Daddy?”
He was busy looking at each and every house along the
street. “No, you didn’t do anything
wrong. I did.” Then he focused his eyes on a particular
house--the one next to Mrs. Malone’s house--and he stiffened. I followed his gaze, and saw a woman looking
out of the front window at us. Her mouth
was hanging open. One of her hands was
over her heart, and with the other she was making strange gestures at us. I
couldn’t make out what they were exactly, but also she kept crossing herself
over and over.
I frowned. “She’s
from Russia or someplace. I don’t like her, she’s weird. Sits on her porch all day, watching people go
by. She’s creepy.”
“Of course. It never fails…stupid superstitious witnesses.
There’s always someone.” Daddy took hold
of my arm then. “Come on.” He hurried me
back into my house. Going to my room, he
looked in my closet and pulled out a carpet bag, tossing it onto the bed. “Get dressed, throw some things in that bag,
and be quick. We’ve got to go!” He moved
to the window and stood to one side staring out into the street.
“Why?” I felt the fear returning. “What’s happening? Where are we going?” I was firing the questions out so fast I’m
surprised he could hear me. Or that I
could talk so fast.
“Listen,” he said softly.
I stopped and did as he told me.
I could hear the old woman yelling in a mixture of English and some
other language. I could hear shouts and
running footsteps, and the frantic blowing of a police whistle.
“Daddy? What is
it? What happened to that man?”
He turned to me.
“What’s your name, kid?” he asked, gruffly but not unkindly.
“It’s--” I started to answer, then stopped, frowning. What was it my mother had called me? “A-Abigail!
My name is Abigail.”
“Well, Abigail, I promise I will answer all your questions,
but not here and not now. Now, we have
to go.”
He helped me into a
coat. “But I’m not cold, daddy,” I
protested. “Why do I need to wear a coat?”
“The First Rule--always keep up appearances,” he said,
smiling.
“What? Which rule?
Keep up what appearances?”
He laughed dryly, and shook his head. “I said I’ll explain later. Here, these too.” He handed me a hat and scarf, and I put them
on.
We descended the front steps, and headed back the way we’d
come. A small crowd had gathered around
the body of the dead policeman, which had been covered up with a blanket. Other police were trying to keep curious
onlookers away. Daddy walked towards the
crowd gathered on the sidewalk. Then for
a moment, he slowed a little. I looked
up and his face registered a mild look of disgust. He was frowning, like he saw something that
he didn’t like. I looked back to the
crowd to see if I could figure out what it was, but nothing looked unusual.
“What is it, Daddy?” I whispered. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” He whispered back. “Keep going.
Act like nothing’s wrong.”
The Russian woman was talking to one of the officers,
gesturing wildly, and babbling in her mix of languages. She kept pointing at my house. Then she saw us heading towards the crowd,
and her yelling got louder. She started
pointing and gesturing towards us, crossing herself over and over again. I narrowed my eyes at her.
One of the policemen saw us and came over. “Evening, folks. Bit late to be out on such a nasty night,
isn’t it? Where you off to?” He eyed the
bag Daddy was carrying suspiciously.
“Ah, don’t you know my great aunt has come down sick?” Daddy
adopted an Irish accent to match the officer’s. His voice hinted at the same sweet tone of
voice that mine had recently acquired.
“I’m a doctor, and so she finds it a comfort to have me come stay with
her when she has these spells. The poor woman
isn’t well atal.” He smiled at the
officer, who frowned and pointed at me.
“And who’s this, then? Your nurse?”
Daddy laughed loudly.
“Faith, no, man! Why, this is me
daughter! She doesn’t like to be left
alone whilst I’m gone at night, so she’s coming along to help mind the house
while me aunt is laid up.” Then Daddy
gestured towards the covered body and the still yelling and pointing old
woman. “What’s all this then, officer?”
The policeman looked at the body and shook his head, his
face hardening. “Terrible thing. One of
our officers was attacked and killed here earlier this evening.” He looked back at Daddy and I. “Did either of you two see or hear anything
tonight, by chance?”
“Sure and we didn’t, that’s a fact! What happened to him, then? Shot?
Bludgeoned?”
The officer shook his head again. “Nope.
Looks like he was attacked by an animal or some such.” He looked at me, and then leaned close to
daddy and whispered softly in his ear.
But I could still hear him clearly.
“His throat was torn out, poor devil.”
A horrified look spread across Daddy’s face. “No! Well, I have seen some stray dogs
roaming around here from time to time.
Never heard of them doing anything like this, though.”
“Yes, but tis strange,” the officer mused. “There was barely any blood around his
body. Can’t seem to find an explanation
for that.”
“Yes!” The old woman yelled in heavily accented
English. The officer and Daddy turned
to stare at her. “Yes! I already give
you explanation!” She pointed right at
me. “That girl! That girl right there! She is evil!
She is of Devil! She drinks his
blood! She is Strigoi, she is--” then
she broke off into a stream of words that I couldn’t really make out. But there was one word amidst all her silly babble
that I managed to understand, and that word was vampire. I wasn’t really sure what it meant, but for
some reason it sent shivers down my spine.
“Ah, hold yer whist, ya mad woman! I’ll have no more o’ that from you!” the
officer called to her.
Daddy slowly turned back to the officer and raised an
eyebrow. “What’s her problem, then? A
wee bit loony, is she?”
The
officer shook his head. “Ah, she’s been
saying that since we got here! Crazy old
Romanian…claims a young girl attacked our man and drank his blood.” He looked down at me and narrowed his
eyes. “Still, your daughter here does
fit the general description she gave us, and she was pointing at your house
when she gave us her statement.” He
looked back at Daddy. His voice was
suddenly brisk and official sounding. “Where
have you both been for the last hour or so?”
Daddy
smiled, and leaned towards the officer slightly, so that their faces were only
a few inches apart. “Oh come now,
Officer Kelly,” he said very softly. I
noticed with a start that Daddy’s voice had lost the Irish accent, and had
fully taken on the same sweet tones that mine now had. He was staring intently into the officer’s
eyes, and the officer was staring back at daddy like a man in a trance. “Surely you don’t think a beautiful, innocent
young girl like this could be capable of something as vile and evil as what
this plainly superstitious woman is babbling about, do you?”
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