William (16 page)

"William." Merrick interrupted my train of
thought. "It's time to move on from Boston."

"Oh!"

"Have you given any thought as to where you
might like to go?"

"I'm afraid it slipped my mind, but I'm sure
we'll find the right course. Shall we always move so quickly?"

"It depends. With extreme caution, we may
stay indefinitely. But it's best to leave before our interactions
make a mark on the area."

"Our interactions." I couldn't help
repeating. "I see." Merrick's highly obtuse way of describing our
nightly hunts always stood out to me. There was never any blunt
talk of what it was that we did. Only our activities. Our habits.
Sometimes I was not even sure whether he was speaking in metaphor
or if I had simply lost track of the conversation. "Well, then, I
suppose we ought to stay in the cities."

"Cities are best."

I thought for a while as we walked. To my
surprise, I had no desire yet to depart for Europe. Perhaps Theo's
tales of horror at sea were too fresh in my memory. Where was Theo
now, anyway? It seemed to me that he wouldn’t leave us alone until
he had personally verified that the deed was done. But perhaps
Merrick's letter to me had been enough for him, and he’d be moving
on at last. He had no reason to remain in New York, and had never
seemed particularly fond of New England. Maybe he would head south
to the warm and languid climates of the southern states, or even to
French territories. But after tolerating his presence for so many
months within his reach, it was hard to shake the feeling that he
might pop out of the shadows at any moment.

What would he think of me as a vampire? Would
he treat me differently? It was queer to think of the times we'd
met before my transformation, now that I knew how very literally he
had considered me a different species. Perhaps he’d be less of a
bastard toward me now. Then again, probably not. After all, Merrick
still hated him, or so he had the last time I’d checked...

"Providence, perhaps?"

"Ah, yes," I said, shaking off my thoughts.
"Providence seems a fine choice."

"We'll leave once Mr. Beekman has
finished."

It was only half past nine, and yet at the
thought of Mr. Beekman, my teeth lit up in my mouth and I felt the
urge to yawn. I had to remind myself that he was to make our suits.
That he would not be able to finish our suits if we killed him. I
brushed the sharp tip of a canine with my tongue, careful not to
pierce myself, and was surprised to taste a hint of venom. It
seemed early in the night for my thirst to be advancing so quickly.
I cleared my throat. "Merrick?"

"You're thirsty."

I blinked at him. "Is it so obvious?"

"I sensed it before we stepped outside."
Merrick slowed his pace. "You were quite interested in Mr.
Beekman."

"Ah." I felt my cheeks grow warm, which was
surprising. "Yes, I found him quite charming."

Merrick's voice was very low as we walked in
the dark near Beacon Hill. "Would you like to go back?"

"Back—back to Beekman's?" My teeth tingled,
and I ordered myself not to run my tongue along them again. Merrick
would notice. "Tonight? No, no. I want him to finish our
suits."

"And then?"

And then I wanted to bite him. The answer
seemed far too obvious, and I withheld it a bit warily. "What do
you mean to ask me?"

Merrick slowly came to a halt, and I with
him, on the edge of the broad street. The moon was quite full, and
the oak trees up and down the way made bold, snake-like shadows on
the cobblestones around us. Merrick's eyes always looked loveliest
out of doors at night, and they held me easily now. "I mean to
ask," he said gently, "if you’re attracted to him."

"Well!" I exclaimed, puffing up slightly,
though I was fairly certain Merrick was only using that word as a
stand-in for you want to drink his blood.

"I don't mean to presume."

"Well, yes, I suppose I would like to find a
way to..." Draw him close and suck on his neck. But we did not
speak in such terms, did we? I groped for a delicate phrase of the
kind Merrick preferred. "He is a very talented tailor," I finished
lamely.

"As I said, attraction breeds thirst. You
admired Mr. Beekman, and tonight you'll thirst for him." Merrick
studied me. "You must remember your affection is lethal."

Well, that was harsh. I felt flushed and
restless, and not in a pleasurable way. "Merrick, am I meant to
feel sorry about...about what I am inclined to do?"

Merrick looked down at the ground between us,
silent for a moment. At last he said, "We are creatures of
instinct. We are predators. But we are still people, who were born
and came of age with them. They are still our kin."

"Well, yes." It was a rather loose use of the
word kin, but I thought I understood his meaning. Didn't I still
think warmly of my countrymen? Indeed, I felt very close to these
delightful creatures, and had very fond memories of those I had
known. And I certainly wanted them all to flourish. Of course I
did! Any gardener likes to see the flowers in bloom.

"And we do live among them." Merrick wasn't
finished. "There must be harmony between us."

"Certainly," I said, though rather
uncertainly. How many ways could one define harmony? Things seemed
straightforward enough: We woke, we dallied, we killed under cover
of darkness, we made love, we slept, and we awoke to revel in the
night again. Harmony made itself, no?

Merrick studied me. "We must treat them well,
as a people. We mustn't feed upon them carelessly. Even though we
may be drawn to the best of their societies."

"I see." But I was no less perturbed. While I
had the sense to comprehend this lesson in self-restraint, my
spirit wanted to revolt. I knew that Mr. Beekman was a charming man
who would go on to make many fine suits; unfortunately, I didn't
care about that nearly as much as I wanted to take his lanky body
into my arms and sink my teeth into his throat. There would be
other talented tailors, after all! It wouldn't be the end of the
world if I shared a special moment with this one, would it?

But Merrick was trying to impress a bit of
discipline upon me, and so I grudgingly forced myself back into the
role of the apprentice. "All right. I shall leave him alone."

"If it is not too difficult," Merrick
murmured, and lightly put an arm about my back for a moment to
start us walking again.

I tried not to frown.

That night we drank a pair of sailors, and
for the first time, I felt some disappointment in the act. Sated,
yes, for a drink was a drink, but disappointed nonetheless. As the
seaman slid down my chest and onto the ground, I thought of Mr.
Beekman, his nervous smile, and his clean scent.

Christ, the things I was willing to do for a
good suit.

"You’re not satisfied?" Merrick asked as we
made our way from the harbor.

"I'm satisfied." That was almost a lie, I
realized with vague surprise. I hadn’t intended it that way, but
for some reason, I was decidedly less than eager to discuss my
thirst for the tailor with Merrick.

"Perhaps you'd prefer a woman."

I looked at him in alarm. "What the Devil do
you mean?"

"To drink," Merrick said with a breath of
laughter, and then, gently, "You are fond of women, William, are
you not?"

"I—well! I suppose." Why was Merrick
confounding me so much tonight? "Or I have been on occasion. Or I
was once. I don't know." In fact we had not seen many to speak of.
Unlike in New York, which was more liberal than the rest of New
England in that respect, the good women of Boston stayed mostly
indoors. They were not among the patrons of the upscale coffee
houses and taverns we had frequented most nights, and we had not
interacted much with the bar maids.

"The fixation on Beekman will pass," Merrick
said. "If you give it time, and if you find another way to indulge
your tastes. A charming lady, for example."

"I say, this suddenly seems rather
complicated." I was only half-joking. "Tell me, does Theo exercise
half the restraint you do?"

Merrick's mood darkened at once, a fact I
could hear in his curt reply. "No."

I hesitated but a moment before I prodded,
"Is that why you are at odds?"

"Would I be a fool to ask that you let the
subject rest a while?"

I glanced his way with a frown. "The subject
of Theo?" Had I not let the subject rest for weeks? "You wouldn't
be a fool, no. I will leave it alone, as you wish."

Merrick was silent, and so we walked without
speaking for several blocks. Long after I thought that was the end
of it, he said, "Theo and I see the world differently."

I perked up a little, but tried not to show
it. "How were you ever friends?"

"We’re not like humans. We don't stay the
same for the entirety of our lives. We change."

"So you were different when you met. Was he
not always such a callous bastard?"

"No."

I raised a brow. "No?"

"There was a time when I could tell you many
good things about him."

"And now?"

"Now I will not."

There was no malice in Merrick's voice, but
there was no mercy, either. His clear determination to leave Theo
behind troubled me in a way I couldn’t explain, not even to myself.
It wasn't as if I felt any loyalty toward Theo. Did I? I certainly
wasn't fond of him. But something about their feud continued to nag
me. I just couldn’t leave it alone. "I do believe he hopes you’ll
forgive him, Merrick."

That earned me an inscrutable glance and a
beat of silence before Merrick said, "He has no place in our
lives."

I frowned again, speaking cautiously. "Yet if
it were not for him..."

"That doesn’t matter now."

"Merrick." I could no longer hide my
frustration. Between my unsatisfied thirst for Mr. Beekman and
Merrick's sudden return to secrecy, this wasn’t my favorite evening
so far.

Apparently I wasn’t alone. Merrick sounded
more displeased than I was, asking, "Does he weigh so heavily on
your mind?"

For a moment I shut my mouth. But he asked,
so I’d answer. "Nothing has weighed heavily on my mind these past
two weeks. But the thought of Theo troubles me, yes. I don't
understand the feud, and it troubles me."

We were back at the townhouse now, and
Merrick opened the door to let us in. I followed him to the parlor,
frowning the whole way. Perhaps I’d been spoiled by the loving
splendor that had stretched on since our reunion, but I was quite
disgruntled to feel the mood go dim between us. And on Theo’s
account, no less! Even from a distance, the stupid twit was a pain
in my ass.

Settling down in one of the velvet chairs, I
lit the nearest lamp and watched Merrick sit on the closest end of
the sofa, brooding. He did brood handsomely, his brow furrowed and
his amber eyes smoldering, but it wasn’t as if I could enjoy it.
Particularly when I knew that no one affected him in such a way but
Theo.

With a sigh, I went to the sideboard and
poured us each a glass of claret. "I don't mean to make you
unhappy," I remarked. "I only want to understand. The man is
insufferable, but he does seem to care about you."

Merrick was quiet, staring to his side at the
cold fireplace. "I was not aware he had made such an impression on
you at the cottage."

"At the cottage?” I rounded the sofa to hand
him a glass. “No, I hardly spoke to him there."

Amber eyes slid back to me, sharpening, and
for a moment he was perfectly still, leaving me holding both drinks
in confusion. At last he reached, almost mechanically, for his
glass.

“What’s the matter?” I asked, disarmed.

"May I suggest you have a limited
understanding of his motives?"

"I don't pretend otherwise. But you told me
yourself how he wrote to you all these years, begging you to save
yourself. If he doesn't truly care for you, Merrick, he's a devoted
actor."

"And this is why you would like me to make
peace with him?"

I felt I was being interrogated, and my
patience cracked. How could I answer to matters I knew nothing
about? I was the one with the questions! "How could I ask you to
make peace with him?" I replied. "I don't know what he's done!"

"I assumed you knew enough of his character
not to miss his company. Did he not conspire to have you attacked,
bound, and taken from the city? Did he not force you to his will
with no regard for your wishes?"

"Yes, and I’ve wanted to sock him in the
mouth many times since then. But—"

Merrick interrupted. "Many times since?"

"Of course! I've never met the fellow without
wanting to flatten him. It seems his greatest joy in life is to
needle me until I..." I trailed off as Merrick leaned forward on
the sofa, his jaw tense and his eyes dark with anger. "What?"

"How many times?"

"I don't recall," I stammered, disarmed. "A
handful of occasions. Not half a dozen, I reckon. Why? What's the
matter?"

Merrick's eyes were fixed on mine, and fury
emanated from him like smoke. "Where?"

"In New York, of course," I said warily.
"It's a long walk between Greenwich and the city. We had a few
exchanges along the way, from time to time. I saw him just before I
came here, in fact."

"And you never thought to inform me of these
encounters?"

"Well, no. You go black at the sound of his
name." I watched in alarm as he stood up and turned away. "But it
was no secret, Merrick," I said worriedly, rising to my feet as he
moved to the window. "You knew he was in the city, and he’s a
meddling prick. Did you not think we’d cross paths?"

Merrick was silent, his back rigid as he
stared out into the night. I hadn’t seen him in this state since
the year before, when I’d accidentally poisoned myself in his
cottage and he’d mistaken it for a suicide attempt. Finally he
asked, "Did he ever bite you again?"