Chapter 4 #2
I no longer had any doubt about which breed of evil ran through Prince Raleigh’s veins. Everyone in Orlfen knew, though we never spoke the truth aloud. To speak of the devil was to summon him, and no one wanted to inadvertently invite the prince into their home.
But some things didn’t need to be spoken.
I’d seen the draping garlands of garlic that had exploded in popularity fourteen years ago.
Watched as, one by one, grieving families turned their back on the church and burned their loved ones rather than risk their return.
I knew what he was. My problem now was that none of us had found a way to reliably defend ourselves against the prince once the sun went down.
Every myth and rumour I’d read or heard ran through my head.
I sifted through them, searching for anything practical I could use to my advantage.
I couldn’t bottle the sun, nor was I certain what would happen if I could, and unless I constructed a fully functioning aqueduct in the next hour I doubted I’d be able to harness any running water to shield me.
The fireplace wasn’t large enough to burn more than logs, and I couldn’t decapitate anyone with the butter knife from dinner.
Which left me, reluctantly, with religion.
The Lord would have to be my saviour, and if He knew I existed, I couldn’t reciprocate. But I had run out of other options.
I moved about the room, uttering made-up prayers under my breath, seeking any pliable, breakable furniture.
I didn’t know if I was doing any of this right.
Our priest had died several years ago, his blood drained after a strange illness claimed his mobility, but even before then I’d never considered Mass to be anything more than a means to improve my Latin.
Father said it was because I read too much, and maybe that was true.
But maybe these efforts would be enough.
If not for Him, then for another, more benevolent spirit.
The aged stool by the dressing table became my chosen sacrifice.
I lay it on its side and jumped on the legs.
To my delight, the wood fractured on the first try, splinters spiralling around me.
I gathered the finest shards together and, using the cord meant for holding back the drapes, bound them into something resembling a cross.
I saved the largest remnant of the stool’s legs for another purpose.
Using the knife from dinner, I tried to refine the end into as sharp a point as I could manage, then hefted it in my hand, testing its weight.
It was clumsy to wield. Father had taught me how to protect myself with a dagger if it was called for, but never a wooden stake.
I would have to have faith that my instinct would be enough to guide my hand.
Exhausted, I took a long drink from the jug at the table, then considered the remaining mouthfuls.
Was it possible to turn water holy without being ordained?
I didn’t know, and I doubted I had enough faith left in me to achieve it regardless.
But I had to try. Words without thought may not go to heaven, but they only had to go as far as the jug.
I cradled it in my lap and began to murmur every prayer I knew into the water.
There was no sign that anything had changed, but I continued until the words lost all meaning and I was bored to death of prayer.
If that wasn’t enough to make water holy, then nothing would.
I dipped my fingers in and started to sprinkle it around the room, by the door, the window, and in a circle around my bed.
‘What on earth are you doing?’
I whipped around, horror coursing through me like poison.
There, leaning by the window, stood the prince.
His posture was casual, arms crossed over his trim, fashionable suit, as though he had been waiting for me to notice him for some time.
He could have ended my life in an instant and I never would have known he was there.
I snatched up my makeshift cross and held it in front of me, cursing my trembling arms. Raleigh regarded it wearily, but I couldn’t tell whether his weariness was born from his fear of God or my fanatic attempts to warn him off.
I took a breath, and then another. Finally, Raleigh’s eyes travelled away from the cross and back to me. His face remained impassive, unreadable. ‘Well, you’ve been busy.’
‘Stay away from me.’
‘I didn’t move.’ He regarded me a moment longer, then cast his gaze around the rest of the room, landing on the makeshift weapon I left on the sofa. ‘Is that supposed to be a stake?’
I didn’t reply.
‘My dear, if you’d like to do some gardening, I’m sure Moira has enough supplies to get you started. You don’t have to butcher the furniture.’ His voice was smooth, dripping with amusement. ‘Or did you think you could kill me?’
I willed myself to stand firm, focusing solely on keeping the cross aloft. For so long all of my fears stemmed from him and him alone. Now we were alone in his castle and my only line of defence was a splintered cross and a cup of water.
‘Could I trouble you to lower that?’ he asked.
I didn’t.
‘Right,’ he said, more to himself than to me. ‘I’m just going to …’ He trailed off, then stepped to his right. Once. Twice.
I followed him with the cross, rotating to ensure he couldn’t attack from behind.
‘For heaven’s sake, put that down.’
‘Do you think me a fool?’ I asked.
‘I didn’t before, but you’re certainly encouraging me to change my mind. Please put it down so we may speak normally.’
‘No.’
‘Drop it, Clara.’
‘I won’t!’ I hurled the holy water at him. It arced in slow motion, the candlelight dancing on the crystal droplets.
Raleigh watched impassively as the Lord’s power skimmed his clothing. And then he was gone.
The water fell with a splatter onto the rug, the cup rolling onto the stone where he had stood moments ago.
Something cold grasped my wrist, squeezing so hard I dropped the cross in my struggle to free myself.
As it clattered to the floor my hand was wrenched at an angle that forced me to spin around to stop my bones from snapping.
And there, once more, was Raleigh. I wondered if he could feel the tremor of my pulse against his fingers.
It was all I could do to stare at his lips and pray that the teeth they hid were blunted.
‘This is a new suit,’ he said. ‘I’d rather you didn’t ruin it so soon.’
‘I wasn’t aiming for your suit,’ I spat.
‘And what exactly did you hope to achieve?’ His voice settled over my skin, seeping into my pores. ‘You need more than a few prayers to make holy water.’
‘How did you—’
‘Lucky guess.’ His lips tilted into a rancid grin. ‘Based on your other, ah, paraphernalia, I can only assume you tried that too.’
Humiliation squirmed in my chest. I tried again to free my hand and to my surprise he let me go.
The propulsion sent me staggering several steps.
While I fought to steady myself, Raleigh nudged my cross with the tip of his boot as though checking for life in a dead snake, then kicked it under the bed, out of sight. Out of reach.
‘Tell me. I’ve not married before, so this is all new to me. Is this sort of amateur woodworking usual for a new bride?’
‘Of course it isn’t.’
‘Then why have you done all this?’
‘You know why.’
‘No, no,’ Raleigh said, stepping towards me once more. ‘I want you to tell me. What do you mean by all this?’
The words felt ridiculous enough to think. Saying them aloud made me want to hurl myself into bed and never emerge.
‘You’re a vampire.’
He was silent for a moment, his long fingers trailing thoughtfully over the thick velvet of my bed’s curtain. ‘What gave it away?’
Confirming my suspicions did not come as a shock; it was more a quiet resignation. I had hoped that there might be some rational explanation, but this, I suppose, was as rational as any other. ‘Did you ever bother to keep it a secret?’
Raleigh hesitated. For the first time I realised that there was capacity for emotion beneath his arrogant shell. He hid it again quickly, but I’d already glimpsed the crack, and from there they seemed to appear everywhere.
‘I didn’t think I needed to.’
I couldn’t tell whether he was joking. His tone suggested it, but the barest hint of nervousness in the way his posture shifted told me something else.
‘What gave it away?’ he repeated.
‘You have no reflection.’
‘Ah. You saw that, did you?’
‘You only come out at night,’ I continued.
‘You drain the blood of your victims, and we burn their bodies so they can’t rise.
You cannot cross running water, and above all else, you’ve been prince for three hundred years.
’ I met his eye, tilting my chin in defiance.
‘I’ve seen your family line. Did it never occur to you someone in Orlfen might look into your history? ’
‘How wise,’ he drawled, evading the question. ‘Then why, pray tell, did you think your homespun trinkets would be enough to hold me back? Surely you didn’t really think that would be enough to kill me.’
‘I’d rather die nobly than live as your plaything.’
I struggled to read his reaction. His expression was cool, his amusement fading fast.
‘My dear, I hope you know I am fully committed to being a good and loyal husband.’
‘Good and loyal?’ I stepped closer to the sofa, closer to him.
This seemed to please him. His eyes raked over me, hand rising as if to cup my elbow, but I stepped around him, circling as I walked.
‘Yann would have been good and loyal.’ Closer again to the sofa.
Ever intent towards the sofa. ‘What could you possibly offer that he cannot?’
‘Nobility, perhaps?’ He gestured around him. ‘A castle? Food?’ He paused. ‘Eternal life?’
My fingers skimmed the velvet of the sofa cushions while I placed my other hand on his chest, dragging his attention away from my true purpose. It felt like putting my hand on a tailor’s doll. There was no warmth beneath my fingers, no heartbeat to suggest he might be alive at all.
‘What about love?’ I asked.
‘I hope that too will come in time,’ Raleigh said, ‘given the chance.’ He spoke with a softness I hadn’t expected, but he was mistaken if he thought I was innocent enough to believe he cared how I felt.
I rose to my toes, our faces now impossibly close. His eyes were on my lips and thankfully not on my fumbling fingers. ‘Can a monster feel love?’
The question made him flinch. He pulled away, but not quickly enough. By then I’d found my grip on the stake I’d left on the sofa and before he could withdraw fully, I plunged it into his chest.
If you’ve ever tried to sharpen a piece of wood, you’ll know how difficult it is to refine the point sharp enough to pierce flesh, let alone sharp enough to pierce several thick layers of clothing.
I’d laboured under the impression that Raleigh’s skin might have putrefied from years of walking the earth as a living corpse, that his flesh might melt away under the pressure and he would fall to dust in my hands. I miscalculated.
My aim struck true: the stake landed just over his heart.
But there it stopped. The point crumpled under the pressure, and I was left with nothing more than a broken stick, not even sharp enough to work its way through the embroidery on Raleigh’s jacket.
He stared at the stake in shock, then tore it from my grip and threw it to the other side of the room.
The cold fury rippling over his face sent a new terror surging through me.
‘If I didn’t know any better I’d say that was a serious attempt on my life.’
‘You mustn’t know better, then.’
He stared at me a moment longer, then sighed and sidestepped around me, keeping his back to the wall as he made his way towards the door. ‘I think I sense some animosity from you.’
‘Some?’ I scoffed. ‘Do I need to explain myself? Surely you’re not completely oblivious to everything you’ve done.’
Raleigh’s lips tightened. ‘Not remotely.’
‘Good,’ I said. ‘Then tell me what you did to Yann. Where is he?’
‘The baker?’ Raleigh asked. He seemed surprised I would care.
‘Nothing.’ He paused, clearly remembering the events of last night, before correcting himself.
‘You saw everything. I told you I’d spare him, and I’m a man of my word.
Besides, I was too busy bringing you back here before sunrise to bother any more with him. ’
This was of little comfort. ‘You left him in the woods with a broken hand?’
‘Hand, not foot. He was quite capable of walking home – you didn’t exactly go very far. I’m sure he’s having supper as we speak.’
I didn’t believe him. ‘Let me see him.’
Raleigh barked a laugh. ‘Good God, no. Write to him if you don’t believe me, but you’re not going back to Orlfen in this state.’
I wasn’t deluded enough to think he’d let me back to Orlfen in any state, but the idea that I could send a letter home stunned me into silence. Trapped as I was on this mountain, I might not have to be entirely alone.
He sighed. ‘I can see we’re making no progress. I’ll give you some time to adjust to your new accommodations. Perhaps you’ll be more amiable tomorrow evening.’
I glared at him. How he expected me to have a moment’s rest with him prowling the halls I had no idea.
But I wasn’t going to argue with him, not when he was finally moving to leave.
As he reached the door, he stooped to pick up the stake and rolled it across his fingers, his hooded eyes giving nothing away.
As if sensing my gaze upon him, he pointed the stake in my direction.
‘By the by, Clara,’ he said with a lilting smile, ‘you need silver to kill a vampire.’
With that, he was gone, and I was once again powerless to defend myself.