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After several hours, when the moon had been eclipsed by the thick clouds, my mother's eyes snapped open and her heart sprinted unevenly. I gripped her hand tightly, watching her eyes search the room. It was eerie, something buzzed in the air that did not feel entirely of this plane. I strained my eyes to see, but there was nothing to me.
“I see him, Rose!” Mother shouted, digging her jagged nail into my skin. “He's calling me!”
Dread enveloped me like an oppressive fiend. I knew exactly who she saw. “I’m sorry mother, for everything.”
“I love you, dear, and so does your father,” she laid back down, her heart slowing. “So does William. Yes, yes. He does most of all.”
“Yes, Mother.” I sobbed, climbing into the bed beside her. I rested my head against her chest to listen to her quiet pulse, tears drenching her nightgown. She was right and I knew she was right.
Could I have let him die? The very thought, even now after these last three decades withered me. Even if he did not want to live a cursed life, could I have been so selfless as to torment my own self for eternity? Is that not what we had experienced in our absences from one another? Torment? Like our souls screamed into the void, hoping to be heard by the other. How had I ignored it for so long, so detached from myself.
When her heart stopped its final glug, I gripped her body and wailed, waiting for her soul to leave. The room grew empty and hollow in the silence and I couldn't stand to be in it another minute. I ran through the house, gathering what goods I could to sell for fare back to London.
My parents were dead.
And I needed to find William.
Chapter Thirteen
Autumn 1900
Sipping my tea, I stared out the window of the small cafe, watching as the blowing rain and wind crashed onto the glass, splattering it like art. The view of London was blurred, melding the city together before my eyes in shades of grays and browns, swirling beautifully into some masterpiece of melancholy.
A man’s umbrella caught, he reached back for it and trekked onward, diligent as if it were a regular occurrence. I sipped the hot, earthy drink again, hoping the caffeine would take the unnecessary thirst away for a little while. It was Halloween tomorrow, possibly my best option for hunting again.
And I had been strung out, my feedings growing father and farther apart as I searched endlessly for William over the summer. After my mother died I went back to New York, selling the jewelry and silver I’d collected from my own estate to book passage back over the ocean. It had been more than enough, thankfully, but my search of England had yielded little. He was nowhere to be found.
Setting the teacup down with a soft clink, I pulled from my novel a folded map of the United Kingdom. Where had I searched? Scotland, Newcastle, Cambridge, and Bath. The last couple of months I had nearly scoured the entirety of London with no sign of him anywhere. None of the businessmen mentioned him, I could find no evidence of a property belonging to him. Nothing, like a ghost. But this was the last place I had confirmation he’d been…
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” a gruff and familiar voice asked from beside me. My whole body lit up at the realization of who it was.
I jumped from my chair to wrap my arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly. Horris chuckled, patting my back, embracing me just as heartily as I breathed in his scent, tobacco and leather. I did not care if anyone watched us, he was exactly what I needed in more ways than one.
“What in the hell are you doing here?” I asked, pulling away to take stock of him. He was, of course, unchanged. His look was only slightly modernized but he was still handsome indeed. His brown eyes crinkled with a smile, and his calloused hand cupped my cheek.
“Well, darling, I visit London from time to time. I thought maybe it was you I saw and needed to know how you were.” I motioned for him to sit, soaking up every note of his southern baritone. “Someone should give you an award for being the most evasive person to exist.”
I chuckled, “I must admit, I thought we’d run into each other before this. It’s so good to see you, it’s been entirely too long. How is Clementine?”
“Has it been long for you? Sometimes time moves differently for me than I suppose it does for”–he motioned toward a man reading the paper–“him. But Clementine… she passed away about ten years ago now.”
“Horris! I don’t understand, the two of you seemed so enamored, I would have assumed you’d have—”
“That is a conversation for another time, my dear,” he interrupted, eyes darting about the cafe. “Tell me how you are, what brings you to London?” Perhaps he was right. I was so tactless to talk openly in public like this about our kind. I resigned my questioning for now. Could he blame me? It was not like I had often held vampyre company.
“I’ve seen better days; I was just in America earlier in the year and my mother passed.” I stirred a spoon in my tea aimlessly, letting that discomfort sit with me. Horris relaxed back in his chair, his face pained.
“Gentle Rosemary, my sincerest condolences for your loss. I know it is a difficult burden to bear. Did you visit with her?”
“I did, actually. It was against my better judgment but it proved a fruitful experience.”
“Oh?” Horris’s gray brows shot up in surprise. “How so?”
I leaned in over the table, my voice hushed, “I’m trying to find William.”
He nearly toppled from his chair, astonishment flickered over his features. Horris pulled from his coat pocket a silver flask which glinted in the warm lamplight of the table. He emptied its contents into one of the teacups, placing the flask back in his pocket as he composed himself.
“That is not at all what I was expecting to hear from you,” he finally replied, taking a long drink from his cup. I straightened, hands in my lap.
