2. Shemaiah
SHEMAIAH
Ishouldn’t be watching her like an animal observing its prey.
Even if I am a predator. When I left the manor, my intention was to distance myself from the human women, not stalk one of them.
But this close to the new moon, it’s more challenging to control my hunger, and I hadn’t anticipated Pippa standing by the lake with only a green shawl to keep her warm.
It may not be snowing, but the biting wind whipping off the water is treacherous.
Hidden by the trees, my keen eyesight takes in her precarious position at the end of the dock and the way she grips the boat mooring to keep herself steady.
She seems weaker today than she was yesterday.
It’s clear she’s been out here too long, but her gaze remains fixed on the horizon.
Inhaling, I search for her scent, but the wind blows it away from me.
I move silently from one tree to the next, closer, a thrill running up my spine.
My hearts pound against my ribs. The urge to track her runs in my veins like the swell of a tide.
She looks so fragile against the backdrop of the crimson lake.
With slow, steady movements, I ease forward, alert to my surroundings, attuned to each twitch of her body as the dock sways.
She turns, looking in this direction, and I move back. Silent. Still. Hidden.
I shake my head, trying to clear it. This is ridiculous.
I should go to her, give her my coat, and stop acting like a fucking animal.
I take a step out from behind the tree, intent on doing just that, but laughter cuts past the wind.
Our other guests emerge from the house, and I slink into the darkness, returning to the shadows.
I have no desire to engage with Anna and Kay right now.
All they do is flirt. In contrast, Pippa’s indifference is exactly what makes her tolerable to be around.
Once she heard what would need to happen in order to save her from her illness, and the unlikelihood of it, her attention shifted solely to her son.
“If there’s a chance I could spend my remaining time with him… I’ll take it.”
She asked for my help in finding the boy and bringing him to Roan Island, and though I don’t think the manor is a proper place for a young child, I couldn’t fault her for her desire to be with her son.
Despite my misgivings, it’s not my place to say whether she can or cannot see him in the time she has left.
My family has the means to make that happen, and I’ll see it through.
I picture her coming into the library a week ago, asking for her son to be brought to the island, and the way awareness gripped me that day.
Her hair was pulled into a bun, and I had the urge to undo it and see how far it fell down her back.
At that moment, lust climbed into my body like an unwelcome bedfellow. I thought it would wane. It hasn’t.
I won’t let myself have her, but I sent for her son.
It was the least I could do after she, and the other women from The Sanatorium, helped us rid the world of Hammish Roan, one of them even losing their life in the effort.
I’m actually surprised Pippa’s son isn’t already here. It’s been a week since I wrote to The New Essik Family Group at her request, inviting him to come stay at the Roan Estate as my temporary ward.
To the people of New Essik, the Roan family is rich, with a great deal of power in the colonies.
They don’t know what we really are, the threat we really pose.
Still, it’s odd that the orphanage would risk ignoring my request. If the child isn’t on the boat this evening, I’ll have to write again, making it clear this is not a suggestion, but a demand.
A healthy donation should have been enough incentive.
The sound of the women’s voices comes in stops and starts. I can’t hear them as well as I’d like because of the wind.
Pippa’s shawl dips down her shoulder, her arms crossed over her chest, and even from this distance I can see that she’s shivering. She shouldn’t be out here in the cold in her condition. They shouldn’t be out in the cold.
The boat won’t be here for hours. It’ll come later today, bringing guests for the New Moon Party.
I wonder if Pippa will join us. She shouldn’t. No, they shouldn’t. The activities of the night would be a detriment to the women’s health and only speed up their decline. Being out here in the cold will do that, too. I should escort her back. Them back.
I stay rooted to the earth, planted between the leafless trees whose twisted branches are a barrier to the truth of my voyeurism.
I’m still vacillating about insisting that Pippa—all of them—return to the house when Anna and Kay turn, headed back the way they came.
Pippa lingers. Strands of her blond hair pull from her bun and lash about in the cold wind.
She’s not my responsibility.
She’s already dying, and if she wants to speed up that process, I have no right to stop her. I take two deep breaths, three, before resuming my hike through the woods, toward the meadow and the only grave on this goddess-forsaken island. I barely make it two steps before I hear my brother’s voice.
“And where are you off to?” Jafeth leans against a tree between me and the manor, casually studying the black leather of his gloved hand. “Hiding?”
I glare at him before turning away and continuing on my path. My brother follows, keeping pace with my steps like a shadow I can’t shake. Jafeth has always taken delight in pushing people, like a happy little puppy who nips at your feet until kicked, then smiles at the abuse.
The wind isn’t as energetic among the trees where I’m walking, making it easier for my keen ears to pick up the beat of my brother’s hearts, the snap of sharp branches underfoot, the rustle of a creature far in the distance, the sap trickling through winter trees.
Sounds more comforting and familiar than the noises that have filled the manor lately.
“Why visit the dead when you can delight in the living?” Jafeth asks, no doubt finally realizing where I’m headed. “Lunch will be served soon. And then the revelers will arrive.”
“Then you should return. You can share your winning personality at lunch and be the one to greet the guests.” I wave a hand and keep on walking. I don’t need company where I’m going.
In a burst of movement, faster than human eyes can detect, Jafeth’s in front of me, palm against my chest, his usual playful demeanor more subdued. His dark eyes—eyes just like mine—are serious for once. “You need to stop martyring yourself to her.”
My body revs up with barely contained annoyance. The nearness of the new moon and the hollowness in my belly make it hard to maintain my composure. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You do. Vivienne was a fucking bitch,” he growls. My jokester brother’s vehemence freezes me in place. “She deserved what happened to her.”
My teeth bare down, clenching like every coiled muscle in my body. But I smile just short of a snarl. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I can see Jafeth wants to hold his ground, to push until he gets a reaction out of me, but he takes a step back, shaking his head.
He shoves his hands into the pockets of his dark jacket.
“I know you don’t want to believe it, but…
” A derisive laugh splits his mouth. “No, you know what, believe whatever the fuck you want, brother. You can wallow out in that meadow for all I care. I’d rather enjoy the delights back at the estate. ”
Fists clenched in my pockets, I fight to maintain my usual indifference, but I can’t stop the image that jumps into my mind. Jafeth feeding on Pippa.
“Get out of my way, Jafeth.” The warning is low and calm, but clear.
“You’re being stubborn. Surprise. Surprise.” He steps to the side.
“A characteristic you know well, I’d say.” I start up the hill past him.
He doesn’t follow this time. “Just think about what I said. You’ve already grieved Vivienne more than she deserved.”
My feet carry me forward. Jafeth is wrong about why I go to Vivienne’s grave. It’s not grief that drives me. Not anymore. I go for the reminder. Love lies. Love hurts. Love is rarely offered to monsters. And that’s what I am.
I don’t bemoan my nature like Noah. Or celebrate it like Jafeth. It just is.
When I reach the crest of the meadow that overlooks the southern shore of the island, I stop at the grave marker.
We don’t bury our dead. But Vivienne wasn’t one of us.
She was human, no matter how much she wanted to be something more.
So when she died, I carried her here, and laid her to rest, along with my heart.
Let others make fools of themselves in love.
I’m not a fool.
I’m a monster.
I’m Mavarri.