William (9 page)

Everything was new! I was giddy as a damn
butterfly.

"You look very well, indeed," Merrick said as
he looked me over once, lingering on my face. "And already, your
eyes."

"There's blue in them," I said, which sounded
so childishly simple I almost laughed at myself, explaining, "I
didn't know the color would change so distinctly."

"There was always a little blue in your
eyes." Merrick seemed somewhat surprised that I had not known this.
"But it does stand out now. And so do you, I'm afraid." His eyes
moved over my suit again, quite pleasantly. "You will attract
attention."

"Surely you jest.” I gave him a look, for
which of the two of us really had the elegant good looks, the
otherworldly charm, the aura of wisdom and mystery? But I wasn't
going to stand there in the study and debate which of us was more
worthy of public interest, for heaven's sake. "Well," I said,
changing direction. "Shall we, then?"

We stepped out into a flurry of life, and for
a moment I was dumbstruck on the portico as Merrick closed the door
behind us. Then I felt his hand on my shoulder, and he leaned to
speak beside my ear. "Don't be alarmed if things are not as you
remember."

"Nothing is as I remember."

"Well, first you must learn this." He took a
step down to stand beside me and look me in the eye. "We do well
not to be noticed, remembered or mentioned. We do well not to be
seen by the same person twice."

"That seems rather difficult."

"It must be learned and practiced." Merrick
stepped down from the portico, inviting me to follow with his eyes,
and then we were on the street. An impressive street, I thought,
with neat stone paths on either side for walking—quite a city,
Boston. I hadn’t expected to find much more of note than the
prestige of its Revolutionary legacy, but I supposed it did compare
to my New York.

"How long has it been since you visited?" I
asked as we headed up Marlborough Street.

"Not since I arrived from Europe. Much has
changed since then. The speed of progress in this age is
tremendous."

"Oh, we are on the cusp," I agreed heartily.
"All this steam and steel. Though I hoped the printed word would
rule the age for a few generations yet. But industry is always our
king, I suppose."

"Yes, but the rise in literacy will have its
effects, I believe. The Millennium has yet to arrive, after
all."

I laughed, surprised. "Are you waiting for
the Millennium too, then?"

Merrick smiled. "No. But the world certainly
is on the cusp. The last of the Old World is disappearing before
our eyes. I don’t suppose there’s been such a chasm between the
past and future since the fall of Rome."

"What an exciting time," I said with great
satisfaction.

"Indeed," Merrick murmured, glancing at me,
and I put my hands in my pockets to refrain from reaching for him.
I wished we could go arm in arm, hand in hand, cheek to cheek,
chest to chest! Now the longing reared its head like a dragon
awoken from slumber. Why hadn’t I kept him in the bedroom? It would
drive me crazy before long, desiring him while I had him so
close.

But then, not even the most passionate
embrace could come close to venting my extreme happiness. Strolling
through Boston with Merrick, talking history, talking life! It was
enough to make my head spin. No, indeed, there wasn’t much to do
but to take the moments as they came, for each was turning out to
be as thrilling as the next.

My attention drifted to a striking man coming
out of a tavern with a pamphlet in hand. He was smoking a pipe as
he squinted to read the contents under the dim light of the lantern
outside, and he had the look of a poet about him—dark tousled hair,
a high collar and cravat, the modern dark suit and boots favored by
traveling aesthetes of a certain artistic bent.

What a pleasant thing he was to look at.
Every twitch of his brow, every purse of his lips and shift of his
shoulders was distinctly curious to me. I felt I could watch him
for a long time yet, but all too quickly he was out of sight.

Not a minute later my glance landed on an
older man about to pass us by. He was clearly a man of the sea,
grizzled and weathered and sharp of eye. No lowly sailor, I
guessed, but an officer, or perhaps even a captain. It had been a
great while since I’d been star-struck by seafarers, but this one
held a sharp appeal. Again I felt I could have watched him for a
long while, but he was soon gone in the crowds.

Once more I had the strange sense that
something had changed about the people around us. Surely there was
nothing so unique about Bostonians—no, I couldn’t chalk it up to
the difference in geography. They were simply not as I recalled.
There was something lighter to them now, something simpler—they
reminded me of birds in flocks, with their flurries of activity,
melodious voices and variety of colors. In fact I got the distinct
feeling that they were quite unlike me, and then I wondered whether
they would even understand me if I spoke, or if they would be
frightened. I felt like some otherworldly creature among them, a
secret stranger in their midst, one who could raise alarm with one
wrong move.

My face went smooth. Oh. Yes. Right.

"I nearly forgot," I murmured.

"You must not forget," Merrick said firmly.
"Any sooner than you would turn your back to the sea in a
storm."

I tore my gaze from a passing group of youths
and looked at him, questioning.

Merrick met my eyes, and I thought I caught a
glimpse of reluctance for a moment before he murmured, "You are not
one of them anymore."

"What am I?" I asked suddenly, and briefly
laid a hand over my own breast, where my heart beat on steadily.
"Not a corpse, I know. Not some demon. What are we?"

"I've wondered the same thing over the
years." Merrick was silent for a spell. When he spoke again, his
tone held a trace of wonder. "I never imagined this would be so
simple. I suppose it’s that strange grace of yours. You always have
a way of looking like you belong exactly where you are."

That pleased me, and I was sure it showed. In
truth, though, 'grace' seemed like such an unlikely term for me
that I could not help but laugh. "That's quite a compliment,
Merrick."

Merrick smiled at me, understanding my
amusement. "You laugh, but it is a rare talent. I’ve always admired
it. And it is such a gift to have you with me again, William. I
hope I'll not disappoint you."

Blast it all, I wanted to backflip over the
moon, hollering for joy. I would have settled for an elegant reply.
Instead I opened my mouth, said nothing, shook my head, and smiled
like a fool before I managed to stammer out, “Nonsense. Never.”

We reached the corner of the teeming public
square. Across the intersection was the old town house of legend,
and on the steps the people were gathered in raucous clumps, just
as they had since the days before our Independence. How wonderful
they looked in their muted jackets, their many shades of hair. I
had an urge to wander into their midst. I imagined they would
scatter at first, like minnows, and then slowly close in around me
again.

My teeth tingled strangely. I lifted a hand,
testing them with my thumb, which caused a curiously pleasant
sensation.

"Do you see that tavern with the balcony?"
Merrick pointed across the public square. "Would you like to share
a bottle of wine there and watch the street for awhile?"

I stopped tonguing my canines and nodded
emphatically. "I would."

"Try to get used to your teeth. They'll feel
strange for some time."

"I see," I said, my curiosity piqued. "Until
they grow sharper?"

"Not only that. They’re much more a part of
you than before. Your venom runs through them, and your thirst will
gather there."

"Fascinating." We set off across the square.
"How do you describe such a metamorphosis, Merrick? You're a
physician—surely you have some ideas."

Merrick glanced at me, arching an eyebrow,
and put a hand to my shoulder in a friendly way. "Stay close."

"Is there anything else like this in the
world? I must admit I don't know much natural history outside of
what you've taught me. Are there other animals like us? I’ve heard
there are bats, down in the jungles—have you heard of them?"

"Such a tireless mind," Merrick laughed,
shaking his head. "Your curiosity promises very interesting years
to come."

"Well,” I frowned. “I don’t suppose anyone in
my place would be without questions."

"Of course." Merrick squeezed my shoulder and
let his hand drop as we climbed the steps to the tavern. "Stay
close," he said again.

The tavern was old and dark, with the air of
any watering hole in the early hours of night. There was still
plenty of space between the tables, though they were well
populated, and the barmaids were moving about with a casual
looseness, having not yet adopted the subtle fighting stances
required of women who worked among drunks at night. The patrons
were a goodly mix of well-dressed merchants, Irish workers and
rougher fellows from humbler walks of life—a scene straight out of
Boston lore that gave me a warm feeling of nostalgia. I had always
wished I'd been born just a few decades earlier, running with Sam
Adams and helping steer history.

Well, there was time yet for such
experiences. Now I could live to see whatever thrills lay ahead for
the human race, even if they were more than a lifetime off. Just as
Merrick had seen civilization chapter by chapter since Henry the
Eighth, I would watch this exciting new century unfold thanks to
the undying vitality I had just inherited.

How long would my life have been, I wondered,
if I were not a vampire? How would I have died? A duel with an
angry husband? A disaster at sea? A nasty infection? I supposed it
might have been old age, but with the way my luck had been going
since I turned eighteen, that was dubious.

There were four tables on the tavern’s narrow
balcony, a rather sophisticated arrangement, and half were taken by
well-to-do gentleman who spoke amongst themselves in the calm
timbres of the upper class. They turned to look when we stepped out
onto the deck, and finding us strangers they nodded politely in
unison. Merrick and I returned the greeting and sat down at the far
end, where our conversation would blend in with the sounds of the
street below.

I watched the barmaid set down a bottle of
claret, and when she stretched her arm across the table to place my
glass before me, her sleeve came up to expose the inside of her
forearm. My mind went blank.

Satin smooth.

Milky white.

Cerulean veins, singing like sirens.

I jerked in surprise when I felt Merrick’s
hand on my shoulder, squeezing hard. I looked at him, eyes wide as
saucers, and instantly realized I’d just lost my senses.

"This will do nicely, won't it?" he asked me,
holding my gaze, and I nodded dumbly as he politely dismissed the
barmaid. Then he covered my hand in his and smiled reassuringly
before reaching to pour the wine himself. "Are you all right?"

For a few moments I could only blink as my
thoughts fell back into place. "Yes," I said, disarmed by my own
response. "Only for a moment I thought, erm, as if I’d seen
something..."

"Arousing." Merrick finished pouring his own
glass and held it up.

Well, there was a word that went well with
his lips. I nodded and tapped my glass to his. "Yes."

"I will try to speak plainly with you,
William." Merrick took a drink and set his glass down. "Though it
has been a long time since I discussed such matters openly."

"You've always been an excellent teacher," I
said, forgetting to drink for myself as I silently prayed that a
landslide of revelations was forthcoming.

Merrick turned the base of his glass on the
table, studying me in that calmly cautious way he had. "This is a
beautiful life,” he said slowly. “Especially in the beginning. And
I can see how well suited you are for it. You’ll be astonished by
the pleasure and beauty that awaits you.”

“I am astonished.”

“And you’ve not yet heard a symphony with
these ears, or read a sonnet with this clarity of mind. It’s almost
like seeing the ocean for the first time, but having never heard of
it before, having never imagined a body of water larger than a
puddle.”

I nodded. That sounded about right. As if I’d
only seen the world through a peephole, and now the door had been
opened wide. And in fact my heightened senses made it seem more
pleasurable every time I took in his handsome features, almost too
pleasurable to keep track of the matter at hand. But I managed
somehow.

“It is a beautiful life,” Merrick said again,
even more cautiously than before, as if he were weighing each
syllable for all its implications before he allowed it passed his
lips. “But it is ruled, completely, by thirst.” The slightest
groove appeared between his brows, the beginnings of a frown.
“There were reasons, William, why I didn’t want to turn you. And I
still…”

“No. No, no.” I shook my head, straightening
in my chair to adjust its position at the table, as if that would
fix the discomfort his words instantly sparked. “You mustn’t regret
it now. I can’t bear to hear that you—”

“Please don’t misunderstand me.” There was
some disappointment in Merrick’s tone. “I understand I’ve given you
doubts, but I pray you’ll have some trust in me now that we’re in
clear waters.”

I was instantly contrite, but just as
dismayed. “It’s not trust that’s the matter, Merrick. It’s the
thought that you never wanted this.” Even to speak it aloud still
made my chest twist strangely, a feeling that, to my displeasure,
was just as amplified now as any other.

“Never wanted this!” Merrick breathed,
incredulous. Leaning forward suddenly, he pinned my hand to the
table with his own. “Are you mad?” he whispered fiercely. “Never
wanted this, William? Is that what you think?”