Sepia and Silver (Tragic Silence Book 3) Page 25

  He reached inside his jacket and revealed a white envelope, which he gave to me. I frowned in puzzlement, resting my embroidery on my lap so I could open the paper. Two tickets fell out, crossed with cursive calligraphy.

  “The Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra is proud to present a concert of the music of Johann Strauss II Esquire, at the Philharmonic Hall, Hope Street,” I read out.

  Henry lowered his paper. “It is the least I can do for you, Éva, after all the strife I put you through,” he said. “You and Benjamin deserve to have a proper night’s entertainment together; away from parties and simple walks in the park. So you go to this; pick out your favourite clothes and enjoy yourselves.”

  I grinned, holding a hand to my chest. “Thank you so much, Sir,” I cried. “I can hardly wait!”

  “I thought it would make you happy,” whispered Benjamin, kissing the crown of my head.

  The next week, after dinner, I pushed my way through all my dresses, searching for something I could wear to the concert. Ever since I’d boarded the Persephone in Fiume, I had been lavished with more garments than I could count; many of them worth more than Erik’s wages for an entire year. But even though I was spoiled for choice, my eyes instantly settled on one, which I hadn’t worn in a long time. My decision was instantly made, and I pulled it off the hanger, holding it out in front of me with a tiny smile.

  Half an hour later, I descended the stairs, to where Benjamin was patiently waiting for me in the foyer. He beamed when he saw me, holding out his arms, and I blushed sheepishly. It was the simple dress of white lawn, in which I had taken my first steps on English ground. I had updated it a little with a tailored dark blue jacket and little gloves, and styled my hair in rag curls the night before, so they cascaded around my face.

  “You look beautiful,” Benjamin muttered, grasping my waist.

  “Thank you,” I replied. “You look fine yourself,” I added, looking over his cleanly-pressed suit. He had slicked back his hair, trimmed his sideburns until they were straight and neat, and placed a red carnation through his lapel buttonhole.

  “Come now, you two! You don’t want to be late!” Henry chuckled from the hallway. “Go!”

  “Yes, Father,” smiled Benjamin, collecting his umbrella from the stand. “We shall see you tomorrow.”

  “Have a nice time,” said Henry as we hurried out of the door and down the steps to the carriage. Then the two of us waved to him as we trundled along the driveway and onto the road, until the house disappeared from sight.

  The streets flashed past us, lit by the overhead lamps and their reflections on the wet cobbles. The sandstone slabs of the pavements were dark and saturated with puddles. It didn’t take long to reach Hope Street, and Benjamin pushed open the umbrella, holding it ready for me to step under as we exited outside the Philharmonic Hall.

  It was a huge and beautiful building, but I barely had a chance to survey it before we were ushered inside out of the rain. We handed over our tickets; then were led through the corridors to a private box on the right of the stage. Benjamin sat me down in one of the chairs before positioning himself at my side, his hand instantly sliding into mine.

  We did not have long to wait before the lights dimmed and the curtain was raised, exposing the orchestra. Instantly, the great room was filled with the sound of music; I felt it reverberating through the floor and gilded walls like an otherworldly force. I closed my eyes to listen to it, following the notes in my head as they formed the melodies of The Blue Danube and Tales from the Vienna Woods. I became lost in unconscious thought, letting a thousand abstract images dance through my mind. Amid them all, I imagined myself and Benjamin, performing a waltz on a formless expanse of white crystal.

  I felt his fingers squeeze mine, and a sense of overwhelming contentment washed through me, as though I were sinking into a warm bath. Once again, I was reminded of how much I loved him; how pure my sentiment was for him. When I had first heard the story of Romeo and Juliet, I expressed cynicism that anyone could adore somebody so much, willing to give up anything for the sake of first love. But now I finally understood, and berated myself for being so doubtful.

  It didn’t matter that I had disliked and resisted Benjamin at first. I was older now, and life had worked with him to bless me in ways I never thought possible. And if I were faced with such an ultimatum, I would give up everything for him. Of that, I was absolutely certain.

  *

  By the time the concert drew to a close and we made it to our carriage, the night had truly drawn in, and the streets were practically deserted. Benjamin collected his top hat and umbrella; then we began our journey home. My eyes were heavy with fatigue, so I rested myself against him, and let out a happy sigh when his arm wrapped around my back.

  “Did you enjoy it?” he asked quietly.

  I nodded. “Yes, thank you. Did you?”

  “I enjoy anything when I can do it with you,” was his reply, followed by a kiss. “Do you think baby Norman will have let Christine get any sleep?”

  “I hope so!” I chuckled. Then I adjusted my weight slightly so I could see out of the window. It was still raining, and the glass was still veined with water, distorting the buildings and hedgerows as we rattled past.

  Before long, we turned into the driveway of Weaver House. The steps were lowered, and after Benjamin helped me down, I ambled over to the horses so I could give them an affectionate pat on the neck. Benjamin pulled out his keys, let us through the huge door, and shut it behind him with a practised silence.

  The foyer seemed twice as large with the absence of light and sound. Everybody had retired to bed; the grandfather clock read just after midnight. I found my eyes adjusted almost instantaneously to the surroundings, but Benjamin still lit a candle to help guide us up the stairs. Taking my hand, we walked to the landing, taking care to place our feet carefully so the old floorboards wouldn’t creak.

  As we passed Henry’s room, I threw it a glance. As a full vampire, his hearing was much better than Benjamin’s, or even mine. But I perceived no sound from the other side of the door, so I supposed he was already asleep.

  Once inside our own chamber, I carefully worked my way free of the dress and pulled on my nightgown. As I weaved my hair into a loose plait, Benjamin changed to an old shirt, then came over and drew me close, planting a chaste kiss on my lips.

  “Come now, my darling. You look exhausted,” he whispered.

  “Yes, I am,” I admitted.

  Benjamin smiled, and bent a little so he could sweep an arm under my knees. Lifting me off the floor like a child, he carried me to the bed and set me on the soft mattress; drew the duvet over my legs before crawling over to lie beside me.

  Even though my thirst was completely slaked, I complied with my usual habit of turning my face away from him. But I didn’t shy away when his hand appeared on my arm, stroking gently up and down until I fell into slumber.

  My sleep was deep and dreamless, and it barely felt like I had closed my eyes for a second before I heard a distant thump, and I awoke once again. The pitter-patter of rain was on the window. Groaning with tiredness, I squinted in the darkness, reaching out unsteadily to check the clock on my nightstand. According to the hands, barely an hour had passed.

  I put a hand across my mouth, trying to fight back a yawn. The damask walls seemed to leer at me like troll faces. I looked at them blankly, half-expecting to hear Zíta’s voice telling me some obscure story.

  Was I dreaming after all? I barely felt conscious. My limbs seemed heavier than iron. But then I heard it again: the muffled banging noise.

  My brows slanted in puzzlement. Wakefulness flooded into me and I turned over, shaking Benjamin’s shoulder. He gave a protesting moan into the pillow.

  “Wake up!” I hissed. “Benjamin!”

  “What is it?” he grumbled, raising himself on his elbow and rubbing his eyes.

  “Listen!” I said, and directly on cue, the noise came again.

  That seemed to seize h
is attention, and he flung back the bedclothes, striking a match to a candle wick. Grasping it by the holder’s ring, he crossed to the door and stepped out onto the black landing. I instantly followed, but he held out an arm.

  “Stay here,” he said, not looking at me. I lingered, one hand curled tightly around the banister as I watched Benjamin walk towards the stairs. He suddenly paused outside Henry’s room, listening. The thump sounded once more, and he knocked softly.

  “Father?”

  For a moment, there was nothing. Then I heard something like an ornament smashing, followed by Henry’s voice. It was weak and frantic, the words unintelligible.

  Not waiting another moment, Benjamin threw the door open, and almost dropped the candle in fright. He rushed inside; I hurriedly followed suit, feeling my blood run cold in horror.

  Henry was in a wretched heap on the floor, a hand clutched to his chest. His breaths came in frenzied gasps and his face creased with pain. The room was in shambles: he had obviously stumbled around with panic, knocking over several tables. The shattered pieces of a china jug were strewn across the carpet like jagged confetti.

  “Father!” Benjamin cried, rushing to his side. “Oh, God...”

  The yell alerted the rest of the house. Almost instantly, George appeared on the other side of the landing. Seeing me, he called over.

  “Miss Éva, what’s the matter?”

  “Call for a doctor!” I shouted. “Right now!”

  George did not waste a moment and flew down the stairs towards the telephone, followed by one of the footmen. As he dialled, I ran inside the bedroom, helping Benjamin get Henry into a sitting position.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” Benjamin asked; his eyes wide with fright.

  Henry clutched at him, groaning loudly. His face was bloodless and shining with clammy sweat. I glanced at his hand, claw-like, still pressed against his torso as though trying to reach inside it.

  “My heart,” he wheezed. “It’s... all over the place...”

  “Fetch some water,” snapped Benjamin as he rested Henry’s back against the wall. I nodded and hurried to the sideboard, where a pitcher was standing beside a glass. Grabbing it, I poured so quickly, I almost upended everything.

  “Heart...” Henry whimpered again. “Demon... demon!”

  “What?”

  “Revenant! Demonic will... He’s... here somewhere!”

  Hearing that, I spun around, my mouth agape. Was he serious? Was James really doing this? How could that be?

  I could hear George speaking to an operator in the foyer, demanding help. Benjamin was muttering condolences to his father. I went to return to them and deliver the water, when I caught a fleeting glimpse of a shape through a gap in the drapes. Barely thinking, I looked up, and froze.

  Standing on the balcony was a tall wiry figure; hair pulled straight and dark from the shower of rain. A pair of bottomless black eyes was focused intensely on Henry; then they flickered to me.

  The glass slipped from my grasp and shattered as it hit the floor.

  “Father, hold on,” Benjamin said, completely unaware. “Help will be here soon! I promise! Please!”

  Henry cried out in pain and slumped back onto his side. “Revenant...” he whispered faintly. “Will...”

  I looked at him in terror, realising instantly what was happening. It wasn’t merely a simple heart attack. The same unbreakable mental force which had pinned me in the past was now at work again. Only this time, it was not focused on limbs, but on something deeper, slowly forcing that vital organ to cease its beating.

  “Nem!” I shouted, turning on my heel and bolting for the window. “Nem, James, stop this! Leave him alone!”

  My old companion glared at me. He reached to his own chest, fingers working through a gap between the buttons of his jacket, and withdrew something, which he then let drop to the floor.

  I grabbed the latch and pulled hard so the panes opened wide. The curtains billowed with the wind, sending a blast of cold air and rain into my face. I squinted against it, but when I looked again, he was gone, with only a faint grey mist pooling out through the stone balustrade. Yelling in desperation, I sprang forward, snatching at it in a vain attempt to catch him.

  “Nem!” I screamed. “James!”

  “Where is he?” Benjamin shouted from behind me, not leaving Henry’s side. “Where... no, Father! Father!”

  Trembling violently, I turned around. Henry’s expression was slack and his eyes glazed. The irises fleetingly pulsed red before returning to brown, and a final exhale passed from his lips.

  I observed it all in numb dismay, the rain running over me like tears of heaven, as Benjamin buried his face in his father’s chest. His body heaved with hysterical sobs, while Henry lay limp against the wall, staring out at the nothingness of death.

  Time lost all meaning, and when I heard the front door opening to let in the doctor, I finally found the strength to make the simple movement of looking back over my shoulder. I crouched to retrieve the thing James had left behind.

  My breath caught in my throat. It was a flattened bullet: the one I had shot into him over a year ago.

  Benjamin’s weeping disappeared as I was overcome with horror and grief. The night stretched all around me, and seemed full of its own unblinking eyes. Though none were the demonic ones I knew were still watching me, hidden just out of reach in the shadows.

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  The doctor quickly ruled that the cause of death had been a heart attack, and passed on his condolences to us all before making his leave. We were taken to the parlour, away from the body, and waited for it to be taken away. I hovered in sullen silence, clinging to the high mantelpiece for some kind of stability. I couldn’t cease recalling the expression on Henry’s face; the dark fury in James’s eyes as he stood there on the other side of the glass.

  It was arguably the most inconspicuous demise that could have possibly been dealt. How could anybody see a failing heart as a murder?

  Christine stayed upstairs to keep baby Norman away from all the commotion, while George remained with us, ensuring we were alright. Some of the other staff filtered around too, always on hand to bring a steady stream of tea and warm crumpets.

  Benjamin sat dumbstruck in his chair, staring into space, a lit cigarette slowly smoking away in his fingers. I knelt beside him, rubbing his shoulders in comfort. I could tell he was struggling not to burst into tears again with every breath.

  I closed my eyes, letting my own sorrow flow down my cheeks, and sat resolute with Benjamin until pale dawn broke the horizon. One day slowly bled into another, and my old mourning clothes were discarded to make way for new ones. It was deemed unlucky to wear the same attire for the memory of more than one person, so before I knew it, I was back in black dresses and stiff crepe, looking once more like a bride of death.

  The funeral was soon arranged for the end of October, and as the date rolled around, I stood before the mirror, fixing a hat on my head. Benjamin appeared behind me, a dark band around his left arm and leather gloves over his fingers. I looked at his reflection; then turned to him, cradling his face in my hands. A single tear crept from his eye and I slowly wiped it away with my thumb. Our eyes met in anguished silence as he pulled me into a gentle embrace.

  Like I had with the last memorial service I’d attended, I let it all wash over me, not really paying attention for the sake of my own sanity. For the second time, I knew the deeper reasons as to why we were all sitting in the church, our heads bowed in reverence. I drifted by like a ghost, peering out through the veil drawn over my face, as thoughts of the dark ones ran rampant inside me. I kept my hand in Benjamin’s arm, and every few minutes, I would give his elbow a soft squeeze of reassurance.

  We followed the horse-drawn hearse to the cemetery, eventually arriving in one of the richest areas. I was somewhat surprised when we were led not to a grave, but to an impressive forest of mausoleums and crypts. Stopping outside one, I surveyed it with a strange and ma
cabre wonder. It was larger than my old house in Hattyúpatak, and the entire Jones family was interred inside, sleeping away eternity in a room that would never again see the sun.

  Benjamin and I stood side by side as Henry’s coffin was carried through the huge iron door. I laid my cheek on my husband’s shoulder, wishing I could think of something to say. But nothing came, and despite myself, my mind slipped into a sudden memory. It was in a structure like this, somewhere in the middle of Buda-Pesth, where my Anya lay.

  That diverted my attention yet again, and I saw before me the friendly bearded face of my first victim. My breaths jumped; I longed to reach out and touch him, but I knew he was not there: it was simply my imagination acting wild in the emotion of the day. However, that did not make him appear any less real.

  On the way out of the graveyard, I gently eased myself free of Benjamin and muttered that I would rejoin him in a moment. He frowned a little, but nodded, and waited for me at the gates as I strode back into the maze of headstones.

  Before long, I arrived at my destination: a stone angel with its blank eyes turned in the direction of heaven. I looked up at the plaque it was holding, hands writhing before me as I felt them grow slick with illusory blood.

  Here Lie the Mortal Remains of

  NORMAN J. CALVIN

  1827-1895

  Courageous Soldier,

  Caring Husband,

  Devoted Father and Grandfather

  I lowered my head in disgrace and sorrow, dabbing my tears away with a black handkerchief. In the back of my mind, I suddenly realised that he had been born in the same year of another brave man: my great-uncle, Alexander Farkas.

  Such a comparison stabbed at my heart even more. Both of them had met their end at the teeth of demonic vampires.

  “I’m so sorry, dear Grandfather,” I whispered to the ground. “Please forgive me. Please.”

  As I knew would happen, no reply came. But that seemed even worse than if the entire world had screamed at me for what I had done.

  *

  When Benjamin and I finally arrived home, I went straight upstairs to change into something a little less constricting. I exchanged my layers for a simpler day dress the colour of coal, and took my hair down so I could redo it. Sitting in front of an oval mirror, I combed the long black tresses, braided them, and then wrapped them into my usual bun.