Sepia and Silver (Tragic Silence Book 3) Read online

  I turned my eyes back to the mirror, watching as they changed from blue to red. My hand reached out, palm flattening on the silvered glass, and I regarded myself for the first time in what seemed so long. Here I was: the girl who I was born as; not the one everyone thought they knew or expected me to be. She was far from perfect, with the dark mole on the side of her neck, and the scars marring her jugular and forearm.

  Seized by inner fire, I sprung forwards and grabbed a candlestick from my dresser. I spun on my heel and threw it at the mirror, as hard as I could, so it struck directly over my face. The reflection fractured, breaks spreading like a macabre spider-web. I let out a cry, inundated with a confused mixture of grief, remorse, pain and strange apathy; and fell to my knees, weeping before the shell of myself.

  It was like this, many hours later in the dark, that James found me.

  I knew he was there without even having to move a muscle to check. First, I heard the window opening; then the click of my door as he telepathically locked it. His footsteps came close, until I felt him behind me, inches away.

  “Someone’s had a tantrum, I see,” he said, motioning at the mirror.

  “Please don’t,” I replied. “Not tonight.”

  James didn’t speak after that, obviously having heard my tone. Instead, his freezing hand appeared under my arm and eased me to my feet. I instantly recoiled at his touch, having forgotten just how cold it was, but he paid no heed and sat me down in the chair.

  “You’d better change,” he said. “I wouldn’t want you to be out in the streets dressed like that. Even I should know better than to be this close to you in such a state.”

  I looked up at him with a blank expression. “I’m not going anywhere. I can’t.”

  “Why?” asked James. “I see no chains around your ankles.”

  “My cousin has passed away.”

  “All the more reason to come with me.”

  I immediately shook my head. “I told you, I am staying here.”

  James raised an eyebrow. “And now I tell you, I will not let you do that.”

  He went to the armoire and grabbed a pile of clothes from the bottom shelf before tossing them at me. In reflex, I raised my hands to catch them, and my heart skipped a beat when I noticed which ones they were. The plain grey dress which I’d last worn on my journey from Hattyúpatak to Fiume.

  “Why must I come?” I asked in a whisper. “Why won’t you let me stay here?”

  “Because I know you need blood,” James said. “And I don’t want you to get so desperate that you lose control, and we have a repeat of a few months ago to clean up. Depression only makes the body lethargic, Éva, not the thirst. Now put those on quickly. Since you are so melancholy, I won’t keep you long tonight.”

  He turned away from me, to give me some privacy in dressing. In the back of my mind, I found such a notion somewhat ludicrous, since he had already seen me in my underclothes. But I didn’t say anything, and pulled the old garments over my body, letting out a small sigh of comfort to feel the familiar fabric on my skin once more.

  After hearing me tying my boots, James approached again, watching brazenly as I tied my hair into a ponytail. When I was done, he surveyed me and gave a small nod, heading towards the window. Then he held his hand out to me expectantly. I stared for a moment before sliding my fingers into his, and the two of us leapt into the night, the panes pulling shut behind us.

  “What happened to your cousin?” he asked, when we rose to just below the clouds.

  “Consumption,” I said through tight lips. I shot him a glance, waiting for his condolences, but felt only a stab of dismay when none came.

  Suddenly irked by it, I spoke up again. “Don’t you know what it feels like? Have you been so lucky as to never lose anybody, Sir?”

  “Of course I have,” James snapped, hand tightening for a moment.

  “And what happened to them?”

  “What do you think? I have been unchanged for over a century. They were not.”

  I fell quiet as we descended into the slums and James folded down his wings. I followed him through the dim streets, gazing at his back, wondering where the giant limbs could be hidden. There were no bulges beneath his shirt to give away anything of what lay there. I could only suppose that he could make them disappear at will, just as he could move or bind things at will.

  He contained the mist spreading from his ankles well enough, and we didn’t bother wasting energy to hold shadows; instead walking in plain sight. We were exactly as normal, unassuming humans should be. Our clothes were both far from the finery associated with the richer areas, so we blended in fine.

  I cast my eyes about in nervousness when unshaven drunkards leered at me from dark corners, wolf-whistling and grinning wickedly. But James pressed me close behind him, his hand always in mine, and his face was hard as he glared at any passers-by. Despite what we were here to do, I immediately felt safe with him. The safest I had in months.

  When we finally broke free of the main street and could disappear down an alley, James glanced over his shoulder at me, and looked deeply into my eyes. I didn’t break away. He was far from handsome; his strange and angular face held none of the boyish charm of my fiancé’s, and his cavernous jet irises could easily frighten. However there was something fascinating and rather intoxicating about the way he held himself: clearly rife with decades of experiences, yet all contained behind features frozen in time. Now I knew what he was, rather than just a policeman, I could see how finely he walked the line between man and beast; human and phantom, confined to eternal night.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  I frowned. He’d never requested any kind of permission from me before undertaking our grisly activities. But then I nodded in confirmation, feeling my pulse quicken and lips burn with the expectation of blood.

  James turned to the mouth of the alley, blending into the shadows. Almost immediately, he leapt forwards, taking out a passing figure. Mere seconds later, he dragged it towards me, stepping away to reveal an unconscious young woman. I hung back, to allow for him to finish the job, but then he stared straight at me, and I read the expectation in his face like lightning.

  I staggered into the wall, a hand flying to my chest. “You can’t honestly imagine I would –”

  “Do it,” James interrupted. His eyes were firm.

  I swallowed anxiously, bringing myself to look at the girl in front of me. She could barely be a year younger than me; flaxen hair splayed around the low neckline of her red dress. Beneath that exposed skin, I could see a vein.

  “You can’t help her,” James whispered, appearing right next to me. I felt his breath on my neck and shuddered. “And no human can help a vampire except than in this way. So help yourself, and move quickly; don’t think on the act. But do it, Éva. Now.”

  I parted my lips, panting heavily, eyes flickering to the side so I could catch him in my peripheral vision.

  The surroundings shone crimson as my irises transformed into those of the creature within. Then the thirst gave way to my grief and frustration; my want to break free of the confines of this rigid life. Like the ribs of a corset, I could feel the future weighting heavy on me, pressing and suffocating until my own bones were nothing but dust. Benjamin was pushed entirely from my mind, until all that occupied me were the faces of my cousin; my grandfather; the control that had uprooted my being.

  For a few blissful moments, I wanted to be the one in control again. This cruel children’s game would be mine to play.

  I snarled, my passion reaching its peak. I flung myself on the cobblestones; hand on the girl’s stomach, and sank my teeth.

  I all but sighed with delight as the hot blood erupted into my mouth. I closed my eyes, taking huge swallows, letting this queer escapism transport me away from all that was ugly.

  When I’d had enough, I knelt back on my heels, turning my face to the sky. I was aware of the luscious liquid sleeking down my throat; bringing energy to my muscles. Fe
eling instantly renewed, I glanced at my hand; shocked to see the painful rash disappearing. It was actually shrinking before my eyes as the power spread through my body.

  In my heart, morality thrashed against my facade like a whip: how could I find it in myself to commit such evil? Why wasn’t I fighting? How was it that I could derive such perverse satisfaction from taking lives?

  What of Anya? it hissed at me. You are becoming the very thing that stole her from you!

  James smirked at me, stemming the wound with his hand. The other, he placed directly next to mine. I managed a small smile in return, and licked some blood off my lips.

  “Perfect,” he said, “my little murderess.”

  I quickly shook my head. “Don’t call me that. Please.”

  “Why shouldn’t I? It’s the truth.”

  We stared at each other for a long silent moment. I thought hard, trying to come up with some kind of clever response, but I found none. Seized by abrupt dismay, I moved my hand away from James’s and stood, holding it to my forehead. I waited for him to drink his turn, unwilling to look at the body on the floor.

  “I want you to take me home after this,” I said. “I’ve had –”

  “Be quiet!” James suddenly snapped, his palm muffling my words. He snatched me around the middle; then I felt his shoulders flex, the wings unfurl and beat powerfully, taking us into the air. I was too startled to resist, and before I knew it, we were atop the roof of a nearby building, behind a tall chimney.

  After a long and tense moment, James removed his palm from my mouth.

  “What is it?” I breathed, heart thudding in my chest.

  “Someone’s coming,” he replied, every exhale carrying the edge of a hiss.

  Keeping his back pressed against the stack, he stole to the edge and peered around it, in the direction we’d come. I carefully followed suit, but he grabbed me again and pulled me close so I couldn’t step into the open.

  The alley was only about thirty feet away from us, so it was easy to see its activity, which remained scarce. For several minutes, the place was empty of all save the dark form of the girl. I began wondering if James had been mistaken. But then a figure approached from the main road, walking with purpose on swift feet.

  It was a man, dressed surprisingly smartly for the area; a top hat on his head and a cane in his hand. I went to remind myself that some of the bohemian dandies would sometimes come this way to pursue their wants of debauchery. But I was taken with shock when the man bent down beside the corpse.

  He inspected the gash on her throat with no obvious repulsion; glanced around, then abruptly lifted his cane, drawing from its shaft a long thin blade. In a single swift movement, he slashed it across the girl’s throat. Blood spilled into the gutter.

  I drew in a breath to cry out, but James seemed to sense such a reaction and quickly gagged me again. His breathing became hard and incensed.

  “Harmless!” he growled. “Keep absolutely still!”

  I didn’t dare argue. This was the closest to fear that I’d ever seen in him, and that in itself was all I needed to know.

  The man in the alley had now begun looking around, hunched over slightly in a catlike posture that I had sometimes seen James use. He was trying to track us. If his hearing was anywhere near as good as my companion’s, then we would have to make a very quick getaway. I had no doubt that this other vampire would show no qualms in bringing that sword across my flesh either.

  But then he turned, and I caught sight of his face, lit up by the same red eyes as my own. I barely contained a scream.

  It was Henry Jones.

  My panic increased madly. I was relieved when he looked the other way and James snatched the opportunity of escape. Shadowing both of us, he swept me off my feet and fled as fast as he could.

  I clung to him, trembling with fright, unaware of the cityscape as it blurred beneath us. James eventually landed on a new roof, notably further from the river, and set me down on the tiles.

  “Damn it!” he snarled to himself, hands in fists. “I’ve known there was a harmless somewhere in this bloody city, but he’s never gotten that close to me!”

  “Wait... you know him?” I cried. “All this time, you knew?”

  “I was aware of a harmless being here, but I’m ignorant of all concerning his identity.” James shot me a piercing look. “What of it?”

  “That was my future father-in-law!” I clasped my fingers together to stop them from shaking. “He’s... I shall be moving into his home soon! What if he finds out about me? What if he already knows what I am?”

  “Has he said or done anything towards you that would indicate such?” asked James, his brows lowering in attentiveness.

  I shook my head. “No. I don’t think so.”

  “Then I doubt very much that he does. Harmless are known to persecute demons, yes, but they tend to keep to themselves, just as we prefer to save ourselves unnecessary trouble. I have seen the marks of a harmless for several years here: taking little and often rather than a single whole feast. But he has never seen mine, not until tonight.”

  “Do you mean to say that if I hadn’t made the move, he would not have found us?”

  “On the contrary, the carelessness was mine,” said James. “This entire city is my territory, Éva. Liverpool belongs to me, and I have become so used to being unchallenged that tonight I made the mistake of letting slip my high precautions. Do you understand? But do not fear: this is the first time any kind of demonic kill has been found. There is nothing to connect the others with either you or me. I have seen to that.”

  I reached up, clutching at his sleeve. “James, if he finds the truth about me, then he will kill me! I know it!”

  “Stop your fretting!” he snapped, eyes flashing with irate fire. “I told you, he cannot suspect anything. So don’t give him cause to suspect! That is the simple solution, so live by it.”

  He shook me off, only to pull me upright and gather me into his arms. I was silently grateful that he noticed I was too shaken to fly myself, and instinctively curled myself closer to him, putting my hands around his neck. He drew down the shadows to hide us; then took to the air, heading in the direction of Toxteth.

  The wind stirred my eyes, and a single tear crept free. Fear shot through my veins like ice. I couldn’t believe what I’d just seen. Henry, a vampire? Of all people, it was him? Not just Benjamin’s father, Norman’s best friend; but an experienced solider, who would surely know more ways of dealing death than there were stars in the sky?

  Overcome with dread and horror, I turned my face away. I couldn’t escape the raging storm of my own head, constantly screaming at me, trying to bring common sense to the fore. But above it all rang that old unanswerable question:

  What the hell are you doing Éva?

  CHAPTER XVIII

  James didn’t speak another word on the return journey, but I could tell from the occasional glances I took at his face that he was thinking over what had just happened as much as I was. He stepped fluidly down to the balcony of my room, opened the window, and carried me inside. Only once we were away from the street did he make us visible again, and set me on my feet. Then, with only a curt goodbye, he left.

  Over the next month, I exercised a control I never knew I possessed. Countless afternoons were spent between me and Benjamin, some of them at Weaver House, where Henry was present practically all the time. Coming into the great entrance hall, I couldn’t help but observe a dark cane in the umbrella stack, and recognised it as the one he’d used in the alley; the one he’d even been carrying at the Christmas party.

  Even though I’d been a fair distance away from him when he’d used it, I noticed my eyesight had improved dramatically. And beneath the polished wood, now looking harmless in the warm daylight, I could still see the sharpened blade within my mind.

  Sitting in the parlour, a chill ran the length of my spine as I imagined it coming towards my neck like a guillotine.

  “Eva, you don’t
appear yourself today,” Henry remarked, jolting me from my unsettling reverie. He gazed over the rim of his teacup. “Are you unwell?”

  I swallowed. “No, I am fine, Sir. Just... lost in thought, I suppose.”

  Benjamin chuckled to himself. “I have noticed that about you several times, I dare say. You so often seem able to slip into a world of your own. I find it quite extraordinary.”

  I thanked him, quickly taking a scone to cover my awkwardness. Inside, I raged at myself to stop acting this way. I was so vehement about it, sense soon won through, and I controlled myself finely enough to carry on the hour without another stumble.

  “Sirs,” I said finally, unable to contain myself any longer. “With all due respect, all this time, I regret to say that you have been pronouncing my name incorrectly. It is Éva. Please address me by it.”

  *

  The hot tail-end of summer swept across Liverpool, turning the sky a clear crystal blue. Sefton Park erupted with mosaics of colour striking enough to rival even a master artist. I spent some time there with Benjamin, but most of my days were now concerned with the organisation of my wedding trousseau. Margaret whisked me off to a seamstress in the middle of the city, where I was measured and fitted for a fine gown. I stood blankly on a stool, arms raised accordingly as the yards of lace and silk were pinned and layered around me.

  I couldn’t help but turn a cynical smile at the memory of my first new dresses, and how I’d balked at the sheer amount of fabric in them. They were nothing compared to this now. I wasn’t sure how I would even be able to move down the aisle.

  A few weeks later, I sat by myself in the library, taking time to conclude the Le Fanu story. I was alone: Margaret had gone to visit an old acquaintance, while George and Christine spent a day off to have dinner with their mother at their home in Anfield. I was glad for the solitude, but still kept the door to the landing open slightly, so a cool draft could work its way through from the window.