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Restless, I tromped to my room, pulling from under the metal framed bed a trunk I often carried with me on my journeys. Unlatching the worn lock, I dug through my collection of belongings until I found the map I’d carried with me these last thirty years. Taking it to the settee, I unfolded the wrinkled and faded paper before me on the glossy table. In the beginning I would close my eyes and throw my finger onto the map for my next adventure; though with age, spontaneity was growing tiresome.
Elbows resting on my knees, my fingers thrummed against my lips as I studied the United Kingdom. Hunting seemed to be growing into a tricker business every decade, the more populated the city the better. London sounded like an attractive, booming place to go for one's birthday. The bustle of the city—the Underground could be a fantastic means of finding meals discreetly. And there were the theaters.
London, William’s home at one point.
Why was I thinking of him again? I sighed through my nose, folding the map and placing it back in my trunk. It did not take me long to gather what I had for the trip. Letters to Mother and Father which were piled neatly on the nightstand by my bed sent a tremor of sadness through me. Often I wrote to them of my travels and everything that had happened since I left William but I never dared send them.
Everything was fairly light all packed away in my truck, but I did frequently forget how strong I was as the Undead. Although it drew wandering eyes and was much too cluttered and bulky, I was not sure what I would do without my collection of humanity. I clung to that chest for dear life; even as I quickly made my way to the train station, hidden in the shadows, with it strapped to my back as a sort of pack.
My fellow London travelers and I loaded into the train cars. I tucked myself into a corner at the very end, hopeful to remain solitary on the ride into the city. Such a tightly compacted space for a trip of several hours into the evening would push me over the edge no doubt. Even though I’d lived three decades as a vampyre, I was still comparatively young and inexperienced. My ability to withstand the heat and scent of my prey so close to me could only last for so long, even with the windows open for a constant flow of fresh air.
We arrived earlier than anticipated, the setting sun breaking through the clouds cast crimson across the cityscape. Thankfully I’d spent the time on the train alone, mortals heeding their intuition and steering clear of me. I tried to measure my pace as I stepped from the platform into the city itself. Sounds of the coaches, trollies, the Underground, women, men, and children all shouting and shopping, arguing, eating, chuffing, and clanging. The sounds filled my head with such a roar that I almost screamed.
The smells that were emitting from the area were both mouthwatering and utterly foul. I carried myself along in a more human-like manner as I reached the brick road leading into the heart of the city. Carriages trotted past me without a sideways look despite the trunk I heaved onto my back.
I smiled to myself at the collateral of life within London. A city bustling and bursting with humans in a way I hadn’t known for years. A rush of excitement and possibility was abound in the streets, crawling under my skin and filling my muscles with vigor. People bobbed against one another on the crowded sidewalk toward downtown, growing thicker the deeper I traveled into the city. I was truly a wolf in sheep’s clothing among them all.
Up near Camden, north of the City of London, were sets of freshly built hotels. My eye was caught by a towering red brick building, reaching spires with intricate architecture. The building curved toward the street in a crescent shape and I knew its proximity to the Underground would be perfect.
Inside the hotel, the floors were carpeted in fine floral designs, the wallpaper rich and red with golden filigree. There was a massive crystal chandelier hanging above the staircase which split into two opposite directions from a landing. Bright green fanning plants stood around every table and chair. The whole space was abuzz with men and women of fine dress coming and going. I approached the counter where a short, thin woman was arguing with a man about his bill. Her dark hair was piled on her head in a loose bun, her dress of navy. She shoved the man's papers to him, her voice gruff with irritation.
A bellhop apprehensively approached as I waited.
“Madam… may I relieve you of your cumbersome load?” he inquired. He donned a similar navy uniform with gold trimmings, his skin tanned and brown eyes searching the pack I had forgotten to take from my shoulders. His eyebrows were stitched together in confusion as he pulled a cart toward me.
I laughed, hoping that the edge of nervousness wasn’t evident to him as I swung my trunk from my shoulders and onto the cart he provided.
“Thank you, that trunk will be the death of me!” I replied, smoothing my skirts. The young man opened his mouth but before he could speak the small woman behind the counter began shouting at the patron, drawing the attention of everyone in the vicinity.
Her voice was hard and final, he had yet to pay his three hundred pounds and she would not be renting him another room until he paid. She was adamant he was not leaving the place until he coughed it up. I waited patiently, staring at the ornate carpet, the warm walls, and several women in expensive dresses waiting for their husband's to either take out their bags or bring them in.
“Can I help you, miss?” the woman behind the counter finally asked, exhausted when she pried two hundred pounds from him. I stepped forward, smiling pleasantly.
“I would like a room,” I said. She smiled a little as she continued to release the tension from her shoulders.
“Of course, let me get some information from you.” She gathered my name, ‘nearest contact,’ and wrote my rate in her book before handing over the key to my room. “You must pay for every day you stay,thatmorning.” She shooed me, calling the next person forward. The bellhop waited patiently for me to finish and followed along with the trunk as I made my way toward the stairwell.
I scaled the stairs a little faster than a human would, but honestly, I was desperate for a bath and to become acclimated to the city; the poor thing tried his best to keep up. On the third floor, I found my room, the same floral carpet and rich golden walls as downstairs. The duvet matched effortlessly, the furniture all white with golden detailing. It was ostentatious. I heard a knock on the threshold of the door as I ran my hand down the thick curtain by the window.
“Madam, may I leave this here for you?” asked the worn voice of the bellhop. His cheeks were flushed, his panting breath and beating heart filled my ears. I could not help but smile.
“Yes! I apologize, I know it can be quite the burden.” I walked toward the trunk he had set by the bed, opening it to retrieve his tip. The young man rubbed the back of his neck roughly.
“I can’t imagine a lady carrying that thing on her back as you have.” The stitch of confusion was back in his brows. I chuckled off-handedly, panic starting to bubble in my stomach. How could I mess up already? I placed fifty quid in his hand, his dark brown eyes were pools of gratitude and disbelief.
“Just remember that members of my sex are much more capable than we appear,” I teased. The bellhop nodded woodenly, shoving the bank notes into his pocket. He stuttered a thank you and left.
I emptied my trunk, unsure of how long I could stay in London now.
Inside the bathroom, I filled the clawfoot tub against the wall, pausing to gaze in the mirror above the sink. I undressed, watching in the mirror as every layer fell from my body and my pale skin became exposed to the air. My breasts never had the chance to sag, my flattened stomach which once bore a child bared no memory of it. I splayed my fingers across where my womb lay inside of me, a tomb of memories. What would she have been like? What would our family have been like, would she had aged as I did? I turned off the water to the tub in resignation. It did not do good for me to dwell.
As I stepped into the warm water of the bath, I could almost hear his voice. His dark chuckles filled my ears, his cool fingers traced over my skin. The impression of his lips on mine, unyielding in their passion, burned with the ghost of his touch. The coil tightened in my chest, wound so brutally it could only snap. I cried out, slamming my fists into the water, splashing it about the room.
Sobbing, I sank deeper into the tub until the water covered all of me.
***
The next afternoon I headed out to scope the city in the dreary gray–England was perfect for vampyres, the cloud cover impeccable. There was talk of a brilliant opera at one of the theaters amongst those I passed in the streets. Was there a more lovely way to spend one’s birthday than with the arts? I promptly purchased my ticket.
