Coming To America by Ligeia
Conversations with the delightful Maggie became the highlight of Angelus's final few nights aboard ship. He actually came to enjoy spending the evening hours with her and her friends, who were equally charmed with his drawings of them. He had begun to feel that perhaps this voyage might prove to be the route to a new existence for him after all. Maybe leaving Darla half a world away might just be far enough.
Heading back towards the First Class accommodations after taking his leave of Maggie, he was halted by a soft throaty laugh coming from under a wide external stairway leading to the crew area above.
'Angelus.'
A female vampire stepped out of the darkness under the stairs, delicately wiping away a little trail of blood with one red-lacquered fingernail, flicking the drops up with her tongue. Behind her, Angelus could just make out the white-clad figure of one of the First Class stewards. The man groaned as he leaned against the bulkhead, holding a hand against his throat.
Recognition dawned on him. This was Nerida, one of Lorenzo's 'angels'. He spoke her name.
'I'm so pleased that you remember me,' she purred.
'How could I ever forget?'
She was, indeed, a memorable vision; tall and slim, with raven hair and eyes like polished jet - heavy, dark and cold. Not European; the cheekbones too high, eyes a little too feline. Something more exotic, probably – or more ancient. This night she wore the latest in Parisian fashion, yellow silk with matching kid gloves, now being slipped back onto long pale hands, and a dainty hat. Not a drop of blood marked silk or skin. The last time he had seen her, she had worn considerably less.
Nerida stepped forward and kissed him. Tasting the blood on her lips, in his own mouth, after so long without it, Angelus felt himself begin to change. He dropped the sketch pad and put his hands up to push her away.
'I don't remember you being so ... fastidious ... before, Angelus.'
'And I don't remember you being so ...' he pulled away and resumed his 'human' face, rubbing a hand across his suddenly-warm cheeks, '... clothed.'
The vampire Lorenzo kept a mansion in Venice that Angelus had visited some decades before; a casino on an island in the bay that for several centuries provided a haven of sorts for vampires and a Mecca for humans ... of a certain persuasion. Notable among the guests were such worthies as the Marquis de Sade, Lord Byron and other men and women with a penchant for new sensations. It was, Lorenzo said, a 'free house' where nothing was forbidden; no perversion of the mind, no abomination of the body was foreign to those gilded and perfumed halls. The richly decorated bedrooms and rooftop gardens nightly rang with the indistinguishable sounds of pleasure and pain.
The one rule of the house was – no killing.
Darla and Angelus's welcome there was soon eroded.
A sound from the shadowed stairwell drew their attention; a slight scuffle then a muffled exclamation, followed by silence. From out of the dark appeared another, more familiar figure. Robin stepped out, wiping blood from his moustaches with a white silk handkerchief.
'Ill met by moonlight and all that, eh, old fellow?' Robin ran a hand through his red-blond hair, cut short now and curling thickly over the ears and at the neck, and pointedly adjusted his cravat and jacket.
'What the hell are you doing aboard?'
Could Robin have been on the Celtic all this time without him knowing? Angelus was stunned. Of course he could. Angelus spent almost no time among the passengers in his own area of the ship, while Robin and his companion had no reason to stalk the Third Class cabins; people were so tightly packed in there that night predations would not go unnoticed. Apparently, not all the recent illness amongst the wealthier travellers could be blamed on seasickness.
'Now, is that any way to greet your only surviving sibling?' Robin asked, seeming genuinely surprised at the lack of welcome from his erstwhile clan- mate. 'We are brothers after all ... under the skin.'
'You're no brother of mine, you bastard!' Angelus lunged at Robin but Nerida, still gripping his arm and strong from her recent meal, easily held him back.
'Why so peeved, old chap?' Robin continued, brazenly. 'I thought you'd be pleased to see a familiar face so far from home.'
'We had to leave Paris because of you.'
'Oh dear. Still not out of sorts with me over that little incident, are you? Good God, old man, that was just a prank!'
'A prank? We were almost lynched! Not that you stayed around to find out.'
'How is the little family, by the way?' Robin continued cheerfully. 'I hear our sweet William bagged himself a Slayer. Who'd have thought he'd have the bottle to pull that off, eh? Not me, certainly. Still, I'm very impressed. You must be so proud. And our dear Mama; how is the lovely Darla?' He raised a pale eyebrow. 'The two of you not travelling together these days?'
Angelus said nothing, but a low growl rumbled deep in his chest.
'Oh–ho! Don't tell me! Is it over now? You found the balls to leave her at last! Good show, old boy! That'll teach her!' he snickered. 'Or was it her idea after all? Hmm? Did Mama tell you that you weren't her favourite any more? Did she make you cry? Shatter your illusions of love?'
Angelus took another swing, taking Nerida by surprise and catching Robin sharply on the chin. He staggered back against the stairs, stumbled, swore, then tripped over something in the dark, revealing the white-trousered legs of the crewman, now dead. Robin righted himself then stepped forward to grasp Angelus by both lapels.
'Steady on, old fellow.' Robin's voice was low and menacing now, all affectations dropped. 'Calm down, won't you? It wouldn't do to be found here with the left-overs, in flagrante dilecto, as it were, now would it?' He stepped back, smoothing Angelus's rumpled collar. 'We'll be landing in Manhattan tomorrow. Why not let bygones be bygones, eh? Come with us.'
Not waiting for an answer, Robin walked back into the space under the stairs. 'I'd better get this unfortunate fellow somewhere less public.' Then to Nerida. 'Do be a brick and try to talk some sense into him, will you, old girl?' adding in a stage whisper, 'Whatever it takes, duckie; you know what I mean.' He looked thoughtfully at Angelus for a moment and sighed. 'Ain't she just the prettiest little whore you've ever seen?' He moved off into the blackness, the steward's lower limbs following him into the void.
Angelus, momentarily tempted by the vision of a new family, considered what unlife with these two would be like. He could see himself with the exotic and cultured Nerida, but Robin, never ... it would end in the death of one of them.
'He's a fool,' Nerida muttered once Robin was out of earshot.
'Then why do you stay with him?'
'Even in this brave new century, a woman travelling alone attracts too much attention. And besides, Robin can be quite charming when the mood takes him ... and quite playful. He does knows such delicious games!'
Picking up the sketchpad from where it lay face down on the deck, Nerida saw that it had fallen open at one of the portraits Angelus had made of Maggie.
'Pretty little thing ... but it's a dangerous game you're playing ... and not only for the girl. If you care at all, you should keep well away from her. He'll kill her if he thinks it would hurt you.'
Nerida reached up to touch his face. He's so beautiful, she thought, especially when he's suffering. It made her smile.
'For what it's worth, I think you did the right thing. Leaving Darla, I mean. It doesn't do to let anyone have too much power over you. Rulers make bad lovers,' she offered. 'I should know, I've had many in my time.'
He knew it was true. But it was such a painful truth to admit. Darla had been queen of his nights for so long ...
'But maybe Robin is right about this,' Nerida continued. 'You can't be a part of their world any more; they won't let you. And a vampire alone is vulnerable. In a way, it's worse for you; you're neither one thing nor entirely the other. I can sense it. You are still changing. Can't you feel it? You have to make a choice ... and soon.' She paused for a moment. 'I'll tell him you'll see him ashore.' She smiled and turned to go. 'I'll miss you.'
As she walked away, Angelus tore the sketches from his book, one by one, and tossed them into the sea, watching the white swell of the ship's wake buoy the pages up for a moment, then pull them under.
To be continued...
Once again, thanks for the reviews. If you liked this chapter, why not post a review and let me know?