William (7 page)

“I always knew you’d fly off,” she said,
laying her hand on my cheek like I was still a boy. “I knew it the
day you were born. You’ll be gone a long while, William, won’t
you?”

I nodded, choked by tears, and put my hand
over hers. “Will you be careful?” I begged. “And stay as you always
are—don’t let any fools in your house while I’m gone. I’ll send
money, and if you have any trouble you must write to me, and then
go straight for this idiot. He’ll do whatever I’d do.”

My mother laughed softly. I wished I could
see her shining black hair one last time. I wished I didn’t know
I’d never be with her again in the quiet of the evening, reading by
firelight as she did her mending and made her pretty things by
needlepoint, singing he own mother’s old songs all the way. My wise
and tender mother, of course she knew I’d fly off. In fact I had a
feeling she already knew I’d not be coming back. She seemed to have
made her peace with it enough to comfort me now.

“You must write to me,” she said. “Long, long
letters all about your travels. I’ll share them with this princely
young man you’ve left me with.” She said that loudly enough for
Jeremy to hear where he’d stepped off to give us a moment, and I
heard him snort softly behind me.

“I will,” I said, trying my damndest not to
let my lips tremble.

“Don’t cry, my darling,” she whispered, and
pulled my close again. “Don’t cry. You were born for a wild
journey, and now it’s time to set sail. I’m so proud of you,
William.”

“Thank you,” I choked out, and squeezed her
tight. There was nothing more either of us could say, and I took
comfort in knowing our hearts were open enough that we didn’t need
the words at all. Finally letting her go, I kissed her cheek and
took one last look at her shining face. “Farewell, mother.”

“Farewell, William.” She smoothed my hair,
her eyes brimmed with tears. And then, with a final gentle smile,
she nudged me on my way.

Jeremy fell in step with me again as we went
on down Fulton, giving me a bit of silence to collect myself.
Within moments we were in view of South Street, the wide promenade
teeming with shouting men, tumbling crates, and gentlemanly
passengers searching for their vessels.

“I’ve got to ask, Lacy.”

I turned to look at him fondly.

Jeremy raised his eyebrows, cocking his head.
“You never thought me handsome?”

For a second I only gaped at him, and then I
doubled over in laughter.

“A simple ‘no’ would suffice, you dumb
cod.”

“Oh, God!” I wiped my eyes, shaking my head.
“What if I had?”

“Guess you won’t find out,” he grinned.

I grabbed him in a bear hug. “Take care. Take
care, Jeremy. Don’t forget me.”

“Forget my son-in-law?” he said, hugging me
harder. “Shame you’ll miss the wedding.”

“Take care, lad.” I pulled back to look at
him.

“You take care, Will.” He socked me in the
chest. “Remember me.”

And so my last farewell was behind me. I made
off alone down South Street, beneath the jutting bowsprits of the
ships, and found my vessel. Within the hour I was watching New York
fade into the distance, the ships and the skyline dark and lovely
against the burning sunset. There was no telling when, or if, I’d
ever return, but I took comfort in my mother’s words, as always. I
could only hope it was true. For whether or not I was born for a
wild journey, I was on it anyway.

I did not dwell on the mark of exhaustion on
his face, for the heat in his eyes when he saw me was beautiful
beyond words. He had appeared in the hall before me almost as soon
as I set foot in the house, his solemn face made vulnerable by the
whirlpools of emotion in his eyes: relief, wariness, concern,
hope.

Hunger.

I let my bag slide off of my shoulder and
onto the floor so I could unfasten my jacket. I hung it on the hook
without looking away from him. He was staring at me in silence; and
Lord, the house was dark, and his eyes were burning hot as embers.
I drank in the sculpted planes of his face and figure, finding the
shapes of his arms through his fine shirtsleeves, the trim lines of
his body—Christ, the man could wear a waistcoat.

No, he could not doubt my conviction. He
would not sense a hint of fear in me now.

Make me a vampire, then, if that was the
price. I’d pay double, triple, a hundred times over. Whatever I had
to do, I would do it, for there was nothing in the world that could
smother the fire Merrick had lit in my heart. What else was I to
feel? He was kind and enlightened. He smelled of cedar and mint. He
knew healing magic and treated the poor and sick. He was handsome
as the devil—and I loved him in every last goddamned intimate sense
of the word.

And Merrick loved me! This man loved me. What
were the odds of such a union? How was I to turn my back on a
fortune so rare, so intriguing? To Hell with humanity, morality. To
Hell with it all. I crossed the chamber swiftly and embraced him,
hard.

For months Merrick had held me at a distance.
But now he wrapped his arms around me at once.

"Merrick," I groaned, sliding one hand into
his hair and letting my lips brush his ear. " I’ve longed for you.
I’ve been sick with it. Let me be with you now."

Merrick exhaled softly, his hands moving up
my back.

"Please—"

"Shhh." Merrick covered my lips with his
thumb, turned my chin, and pressed a kiss to my mouth.

I wound my arms around his neck, taking it
hungrily. How long? How long since the last kiss? Months! My heart
raced as I held him close, shuddering each time his tongue slid
against mine.

"William, William," he breathed at last, and
smoothed my hair with a cool hand. His fingertips trailed down the
side of my throat, tracing my vein.

Somewhere far below my haze of lust, the same
old questions echoed faintly: Would it hurt? Would my heart stop
beating? How long would it take? It didn't matter now—I would find
out.

Merrick rested his cheek upon mine for a
moment, his fingers still tenderly playing at my throat, and then
he lowered his head and pressed his lips below my ear.

"Yes," I breathed, closing my eyes. We were
still standing, which I guessed was not ideal, but the matter had
left my hands—and good riddance! I was content to watch all my
doubts and duties float away as I surrendered at last to Fate,
tipping over the edge of no return.

"William." Merrick lifted his head and
cradled my face, smoothing the pad of his thumb over my cheek as I
gazed up at him in a stupor. His amber eyes had never held more
heat, and he'd never looked at me with such intent. But there was a
calm center in that storm of hunger, and his voice trembled only
slightly when he asked, "Do you want this?"

I knew now that my answer mattered. The last
time we met, I had been frustrated by his asking if I'd changed my
mind. But now I understood that Merrick was asking me seriously:
Did I still want to be a vampire with him? If I said no, I thought
it very possible that he would kill me. After all this time
thinking it over, if I had decided I could not bear the thought of
life as a vampire, if I could not stomach the killing, if I would
rather die than live without the humanity I was born with, then
perhaps Merrick would give me the choice I’d taken from him.
Perhaps he would grant me the option of death.

Or perhaps not. What did I know? And what did
he want? I tightened my grip on his waistcoat. What do you want,
Merrick? But he would not say, and I could not guess. I already
knew I would simply have to find out for myself.

"Yes," I said without guile. "I want it.” And
I thought of Theo, of how fiercely he’d told me to say it until it
was done. “I want to be with you,” I said. “I want you to make me a
vampire. I want you to do it now. I beg you to do it now."

Merrick closed his eyes and pressed his
forehead to mine. His hands framed my face, then slowly moved down
to my neck.

I watched his face as his fingers undid the
knot of my cravat. His eyes were lowered to the task, his soft lips
faintly pursed, and a thick lock of ebony hair had fallen over his
brow. When I reached up to brush it aside, his fingers paused at my
throat and he turned his head to sweep his lips against my wrist.
Then he hooked a loop of my untied cravat and pulled, slowly,
dragging the strip of linen from my collar, teasing the sensitive
skin of my throat.

"How I missed you," I said without quite
meaning to, and tilted my head up to kiss the edge of his jaw. I
felt his soft sigh against my ear, and another loop of my cravat
sliding free.

"My thirst for you has driven me to the brink
of madness."

"I've dreamt of your bite."

Merrick pressed his lips to the corner of my
mouth, and I kissed him tenderly. No matter what, my last moments
as a human would be well spent. I felt the last inch of my cravat
finally fall from my neck, felt him tuck it into my pocket. His
fingers slipped beneath my collar, turning it back to bare his
target. I could hear my own pulse pounding there like a drum; his
coppery gold eyes were fastened to it.

So close. It was
so close
. I wound my
arms about his shoulders as he lowered his head, moaned as he
opened his mouth against my fluttering vein and pressed his teeth
into my skin. The first nip made me gasp. His glass-sharp teeth
broke the skin, but sank no further; he dragged his tongue over the
little wound, making me shiver and lean against him.

Merrick groaned softly, a low and needful
sound that turned my knees to butter. Cradling my head with one
hand, he wound his other arm about my waist to hold me securely.
And then, once more, I felt the edge of his teeth.

"Ah," I gasped as I felt them begin to
penetrate my skin. "Merrick!"

There was venom in a vampire’s bite, and I
was already familiar with the strange and thrilling effects. But I
had never felt them so intensely. Merrick’s bite sent spears of
dark pleasure and delirium shooting through me, taking over my body
at once, possessing me to arch against him in wanton surrender.

And then he drank.

I could feel his lips working gently against
my skin, his arms holding me securely against him. I shifted
unconsciously every time he swallowed, moaning in bliss, languid as
a strand of willow leaves floating aloft in a steady breeze.

Merrick drank and drank, easily supporting me
as I grew limp. My moans tapered off into whispers; I felt as if I
were drifting into a pleasant dream. I knew nothing but peaceful
surrender and Merrick's steady embrace. I could still feel him
against me, though my hands had slid from his shoulders and wilted,
somewhere, I did not know. Gradually my body grew detached from my
senses except for the point that was joined to his teeth, and even
that was taking on the soft haze of a memory.

The darkness behind my eyelids was a curtain
of black velvet, tangible before me. I began to float backward from
it, back and back, and out through the top of my skull.

And then I saw myself from above, as though I
were some specter floating over us in that dark entry hall. I saw
myself hanging in his arms, limp as a piece of silk, my upturned
face awash with contentment. My pale brown skin had grown pallid,
my lips colorless, so that my wood-colored hair appeared much
darker than usual.

At first Merrick's face was hidden in my
neck, but then he unfastened his lips from my throat and let out a
long, shuddering breath. He planted a tender kiss upon my cheek.
Then, in one smooth motion, he swept my feet off of the floor and
carried me toward the stairwell at the back of the hallway.

I floated behind us without a thought,
watching Merrick climb the stairs, watching my own legs and boots
dangling over his elbow. We entered another dark hallway, and then
a bedroom lit only by the last traces of dusk and the flicker of
lanterns on the balcony outside. Merrick laid me down upon the bed,
straightening my clothes before moving down to pull off my boots. I
was perfectly still, a look of bliss still painted on my
features.

Merrick set my boots on the floor and sat
down on the bed beside me, reaching down to brush the hair from my
forehead with a look of almost painful fondness. Then he lifted his
own wrist to his mouth.

There was a confusing moment of darkness, as
though my eyes had fallen shut, and when I opened them I found
myself back in my body. Merrick was holding his wrist against my
lips, and his sweet blood was blooming over my tongue.

"There you are," he murmured.

I blinked at him drowsily; my hand had
covered his wrist to hold it close. I swallowed my first sip of
that strange elixir, and then, with a stifled moan, I closed my
eyes and began to drink.

"Yes," Merrick whispered, leaning over me
with one elbow beside my head, his free hand stroking my hair.
"That's it."

My God, why hadn't he told me it was
delicious? No, delicious was not the word for it. No words existed
for such a liquor. It was rushing up and down my limbs in sparkling
cascades, making me shiver. I moaned again, sharply, and wrapped
both hands greedily around his forearm.

Merrick exhaled and flexed his fingers.
"That's it. You're almost there."

Yes, I was filling up; I could feel it
reaching its zenith. My entire being was abuzz with it, my soul
spread open to accommodate every last drop of bliss he could spill.
And then, just when I felt quite nourished, the thirst disappeared
with a clean, delightful snap.

I broke free of his wrist with a gasp, going
stiff for a moment. The last few drops went down with a shower of
satisfaction surpassing any I’d ever felt, blanketing my soul in a
wonderful languor. I relaxed into the bedding, which felt
impossibly plush and inviting beneath me, and slowly opened my
eyes.