Incarnation (8 page)

Suddenly several hooded figures identical to those I had encountered outside the Lyceum appeared. At once, I stiffened, readying myself to fight once again.

“Is something wrong?” Felix asked.

“Those . . .” I gestured toward the figures, who were clustering around the woman on the couch. “Those things, they—”

“They’re thralls, servants of a sort. They’ll take care of her.” Mistaking the source of my concern, he added, “Thralls are unpleasant to look at, I know, but they’re useful. She’ll be fine, and in the end, she’ll get what she wants.”

I heard him clearly enough but kept my guard up all the same. “What do you mean, what she wants?”

He appeared surprised that I did not know. “To become one of us, of course. It’s what all the supplicants want. That’s why they’re here.”

Despite my own experience, I had not fully grasped the
process by which a human was transformed into a vampire. Now as understanding dawned, I said, “The humans submit themselves to be fed on so that they can become vampires?”

“Why else would they? There was a time when we hunted humans, but only with great restrictions. We knew hunger then, but not any longer. All that is passed now. With the promise of what we can offer, we have more candidates than we need to amply sustain ourselves.”

“What brought about such a great change?”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Therein hangs a tale, but it will have to wait. You were about to tell me what brings you here.”

“I am seeking the one who transformed me.”

It occurred to me that as Felix knew my true identity, he might also know the being responsible for my state. But instead of revealing it, he shot me a look of surprise that was less than credible. I had to conclude that whatever he knew, he was not willing to share it, at least not right then.

“How odd that he is not with you,” Felix said. “That is not at all how things are done.”

“I can’t speak to that. I only know that I would like to find him.”

The hooded figures were carrying the woman away. They had stopped her bleeding. She was unconscious but breathing, as she would until the moment when she passed from life into . . . whatever the strange state was that I found myself in. Not alive, not dead, yet not in any sort of limbo either. In truth, I had never experienced existence so keenly. All my senses were exquisitely alert. I was aware of every sight, sound, smell, and movement around me, but above all, I felt the one who had created me in my new form, calling to me.

“Not to worry,” Felix said. “Your incarnator is bound to show up here eventually. Everyone comes to the Bagatelle.”

I remembered Marco di Orsini’s remark concerning the club but did not speak of it. Felix seemed inclined to befriend me; I would be as foolish not to take advantage of that as I would be to trust him.

“Have you met any of us yet?” he asked.

“You are the first.”

He made a little bow and smiled. “I am honored and I bring good tidings. Lady Blanche would like you to join her for a little tête-à-tête. “

“Lady Blanche?”

My ignorance earned a chiding glance. “Our proprietress. She doesn’t extend herself to newcomers as a rule. You should be flattered.”

So I might have been if it hadn’t occurred to me just then that the proprietress of the Bagatelle might have sent the hooded figures to the Lyceum Theatre. If so, she would be pleased that after eluding them initially, I had walked directly into her lair.

Swallowing my concerns, I found a smile. “I would be delighted to meet her.”

Felix offered his arm. We proceeded toward a set of curving steps at the far back of the room. He gestured for me to go first. Gingerly, not knowing what I was about to encounter, I began my descent into the lower reaches of the Bagatelle.

CHAPTER 5

S
o close to the Thames, I expected the air to be damp, but it was instead dry and pleasantly scented with fresh herbs. The stairs came out into a wide gallery, the stone walls of which were covered with worn but still beautiful tapestries visible in the light of gas lamps set in sconces. Felix and I walked a little way before coming to a wooden door studded with iron. He pressed the latch down and stood aside for me to enter.

The chamber I found myself in was less gaudy than the rooms above, yet it lacked nothing in luxury or elegance. More tapestries lined the walls, depicting medieval lords and ladies at the hunt. Iron braziers set on tripods gave ample light. In the center of the room, seated in a thronelike chair, was a woman of unparalleled beauty. Her hair, the silvered hue of moonlight, tumbled down her back. Unlike the female vampires in the club who seemed to vie with one another in the brightness of their array, she was garbed all in white. A magnificent rope of pearls encircled her lovely neck and looped to below her waist.

She appeared to be studying a ledger on the table before her but looked up as we entered. “Ah, Felix, you found her.”
Her voice was pleasant, soft and melodious. The sort of voice that drew the listener to it.

“I did indeed.” Taking me by the arm, he guided me forward. “Lady Blanche, may I present Miss Lucy Weston.”

A perfectly arched eyebrow rose. “Lucy Weston? How extraordinary. It is said that everyone comes to the Bagatelle but I never expected a fictional character to walk in the door.”

“Clearly, I am not—”

She cut me off with a languid wave of her bejeweled arm. “Of course you aren’t, my dear. I said from the moment that awful book came out that Stoker was up to no good. I did say that, didn’t I, Felix?”

“Repeatedly, my lady and, as usual, you were absolutely right.”

Without taking her eyes from me, she continued to address him. “Darling, leave us alone for a bit, will you? Oh, and tell Chef to send in a plate of nibbles and a bottle of the Veuve Cliquot ’86, would you?”

He bowed, cast me a final look, and departed.

“Sit down,” Lady Blanche invited, waving me into a chair opposite her. “Please believe that I mean it kindly when I say that you appear rather done in.”

She, on the other hand, looked exquisite. The more I gazed at her, the more I was struck by her luminous beauty. Like the pearls she wore, light seemed to glow from inside her. I had never seen a more breathtaking woman.

Lady Blanche smiled as though she guessed my thoughts. “It’s been a very long time, but I still remember how confusing things can be in the beginning.”

How old was she? I would have guessed no more than thirty but for her eyes. In their depths, the wisdom of centuries seemed to lurk.

“Is that how I appear, confused?”

She shrugged. “You appear to be alone, and that is, to say the least, highly unusual. Frankly, it’s enough to raise concern. How long have you been . . . as you are?”

“A few months.”

“And you’ve been on your own all that time?” She looked genuinely appalled.

I nodded. “I’m trying to find the one who . . .” I hesitated, uncertain how much I was prepared to reveal. Clearly, I would have to explain what had happened to me, as best I was able to recollect it, if I were to have any hope of finding
him
.

“The one who transformed you? Yes, I imagine you would want to find him. It’s really quite extraordinary that he left you to your own devices.”

“Is that not how it is usually done?”

“Certainly not. In fact, I don’t believe that I have ever heard of it happening before. But we can hash all that out later. How fortunate that you found us.”

A snake, much smaller than the one earlier on the door, slithered across the desk and twined itself around her wrist. She stroked it absently while keeping her attention firmly on me.

“Yes,” I said, trying not to stare at the snake. “Fortunate indeed.”

She studied me in silence for several moments. I was about to squirm under her scrutiny when a knock at the door saved me. A white-jacketed chef, who but for the extreme pallor of his complexion could have stepped from the kitchens of London’s finest restaurant, appeared. Bowing, he placed a gold platter before Lady Blanche and removed the lid. She nodded her approval.

With an expert hand, he uncorked the champagne and filled a pair of tulip-shaped glasses. Leaving the bottle in its gold ice bucket, he bowed again and, with the merest glance at me, took his leave.

When he was gone, Lady Blanche said, “I stole him from a French baron he’d been with forever. Everyone says he’s a genius.” She nudged the platter toward me. “Tell me what you think.”

The hunger I had fought since leaving Whitby was becoming more than I could bear. With my hands clenched in my lap, I stared at what the chef had brought.

“That is fresh stag heart,” Lady Blanche said. “And that . . . let me see . . . that is the heart of a swan. Both are still warm, of course.”

When I hesitated, she placed the stag heart on a small plate. “I always think this tastes of the deep forest and rushing water. Do you agree?”

I succumbed. The scent of the stag blood was sweet and thick. Already, I could almost taste it. Forgetting myself entirely, I seized the heart and bit clear through it. Blood spurted into my mouth. I groaned in delight. At once, I felt intense relief followed by a desperate need for more. Heedless of my manners, I devoured the stag’s heart greedily, not pausing until it was entirely gone. Only then did I look down at myself in dismay. Blood stained my hands and I could feel it around and in my mouth. In the next instant, I all but gagged.

“Drink,” Lady Blanche ordered and pressed one of the crystal tulips on me.

I took it and drank the contents in a single swallow. The cloying taste of blood eased, but only a little.

Refilling my glass, she said, “Should I take it that you have had some difficulty feeding?”

There seemed no point in attempting to conceal a truth she could learn easily enough. “I cannot feed on humans. I want to . . . I just can’t actually do it.”

She sipped a little champagne and said, “That’s because you haven’t been brought along properly. My first time was . . . messy.”

I scarcely heard her. All my attention was on the swan’s heart still lying on the platter.

“Please,” Lady Blanche said and urged it on me.

I ate with marginally more decorum. When I was done, I cleaned my hands on the linen napkin she handed me and drank more of the champagne she poured.

“It is good to indulge in this sort of thing occasionally,” Lady Blanche said. “But you still must have a proper diet. After all, there is hardly any point in living forever if one doesn’t stay in good health, is there?”

Whether from the nourishment I had devoured or the champagne—or perhaps both—my head was swimming. I stared at her. “Living forever?”

She shook her head in dismay. “Did he tell you nothing, whoever he is? The cad! The villain! Be assured that I will hold him to account for his shameful behavior. But yes, theoretically, we live forever. Not that there aren’t ways that our existences can be ended, but fortunately they are rare.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask her what those ways might be, if only for my own use. But before I could do so, Lady Blanche asked, “Do you have a place to stay?”

I shook my head. “I have only just arrived in London.”

“It will be morning soon. You do understand about sunlight, don’t you?”

“Yes . . . of course . . .” In fact, I did not understand it at all. Since my emergence from the grave, I had been in sunlight often and had suffered no ill effects from it. But I thought it ill-advised to say so lest I raise suspicions about my true nature.

“Only the strongest of us can risk exposure,” Lady Blanche continued, “and then only on a very limited basis. You will have to avoid it entirely until you are a good deal older and more experienced. For now, I think it best that you stay here.”

Given that I had nowhere else to go, I said, “You are very kind.”

She finished her champagne and smiled. “It is agreed then.” She rang a small gold bell. Felix reappeared so quickly that I had to assume he had been listening at the door.

“Lucy has been so good as to agree to stay with us,” Lady Blanche told him. “Do see that she is properly comfortable.”

He inclined his head. “Of course, my lady.”