Eleisha

Eleisha Clevon was born May 19, 1822, in Glamorgan, Wales, near the shores of Cardiff on the Bristol Channel. Icy wind blowing against cold flesh was the most vivid memory of her childhood, besides hunger. She considered the kitchen of Cliffbracken to be her home until the age of six—upon being informed by a cook that she and her mother only slept in the pantry through someone else’s charity. After that, the concept of “home” simply didn’t matter, even though she grew up within the confines of Lord William Ashton and Lady Katherine’s walls.

Her mother’s beauty faded early from hard work, malnutrition, and sorrow. Her father remained a mystery. Gossips of the manor hinted he’d been a French soldier who once served under Napoleon. Others said he was a traveling merchant, but Eleisha never knew what to believe and her mother refused to tell.

As a child, Eleisha discovered that the most worthwhile talent a little bastard kitchen wench can achieve is invisibility. The less the cooks saw her, the safer and healthier she remained. Lord William’s enormous stone manor struck her as damp and cheerless, but filled with wonderful places to hide. Richly dressed people discussing private matters often walked right past her, never realizing she was there. By the age of eleven, flitting about the house became far preferable to scrubbing pots in the kitchen while watching her mother stare for hours into space, dreaming of something no one else could see.

Eleisha had been wearing the same brown dress for three years on the day she finally met Lady Katherine. Cliffbracken bustled with life. Apparently, young Master Julian, Lord William’s son, was home after being away on business for several years. Eleisha found all the wild activity disconcerting. Why all this commotion?

She was making a poor pretense of dusting the banister when animated voices rose up the staircase, accompanied by sounds of light-clicking heels.

“What do you mean, ‘she’s disappeared’?”

“I can’t understand it, my lady. We’ve searched everywhere.” This voice was masculine: the house steward, Mr. Shevonshire.

Eleisha slipped quickly behind a large red vase on the first landing. Who had vanished?

“Well, you’ll simply have to replace her. There are twenty people on the guest list, and Marion cannot serve dinner alone.”

“What do you suggest, my lady?” the steward asked dryly. “That we set up interviews in the study? We have three hours.”

“Serving girls are not my concern. Why you can’t deal with these trivial matters yourself has never ceased to—” The female voice stopped. “Come out of there.”

When Eleisha realized she’d been noticed, she stopped breathing. But survival instincts took over, and she stepped into view.

“What were you doing back there?” demanded a tall, auburn-haired lady with dark circles under her eyes.

“Dusting,” Eleisha answered with downcast eyes.

“Who are you?”

“Eleisha Clevon. My mother helps in the kitchen.”

The lady stared at her for a moment, taking in her hair and thin stature. “How old are you?”

“Twelve.”

Tossing her head as though having made a decision, the woman turned to sweep back down the stairs. “Put her in a uniform,” she said offhandedly to Mr. Shevonshire. “And have Marion give her the course list. She’ll have to do.”

Eleisha found herself standing alone with the angry house steward. They expected her to serve a formal dinner?

“Oh, no,” she said. “I can’t hold trays for proper ladies and gentlemen. I wouldn’t know which one to bring out first.”

“Be quiet.” The expression on his face suggested he’d rather drop her down the stairwell, but he sighed and headed for the salaried servants’ quarters. “Come with me.”

Marion, the head serving maid, turned out to be so glad at the prospect of help she actually smiled and went over the menu several times, explaining carefully when each dish would be served. “Don’t be worrying. You just follow what I do and keep your eyes down.”

Eleisha’s fear faded slightly at Marion’s calm manner. She’d never been in one of the hired servants’ rooms before. White walls and a little four-poster bed made the atmosphere pleasant.

“Did the girl I’m replacing really disappear?”

“Got shipped off more likely.” Marion frowned. “Some of these girls what keep flirting with their betters deserves it, I say. Pretty face and a round bum, and they think some squire will lose his head and forget who he is.”

Such stories sounded romantic to Eleisha. “Who was she flirting with?”

“Who? Master Julian, that’s who.” Marion’s frown relaxed into a thoughtful, distant look. “You mind my words and stay away from him. Something ain’t right with him.” She trailed off, and then smiled again. “But you’re a good girl. I can tell. Let’s find a uniform, and I’ll pin up your hair.”

Serving dinner turned out far differently than Eleisha expected. The house and its inhabitants had never seemed so alive. Lord William, dressed in a handsome black suit, laughed amidst gold-rimmed champagne glasses, and toasted his son’s return. All the guests, dressed in exquisite splendor, grew intoxicated by his mood, and cheerful voices emanated from the great dining hall.

In her short life, Eleisha had known several girls who dreamed of being noble and wealthy, of drinking champagne and wearing silk gowns. Although she herself had no such aspirations, the silver trays and crystal chandeliers gave the evening a magical, almost unreal glow. Only one thing dampened her impression of the glorious dinner: Master Julian himself.

Sitting near his father, Julian neither smiled nor raised his glass. Taking in the sight of them together, Eleisha thought it nearly impossible that two men with such similar features could still appear so strikingly different. She wouldn’t have placed them as father and son. Despite its fine tailoring, Julian’s suit brought him no elegance. His dark hair had outgrown its cut and hung at uneven angles around a solid chin. Nearly black eyes glittered coldly in his pale face. Over six feet in height, he actually seemed taller but expressed arrogance rather than pride. While he did not partake in his father’s exuberance, he did not appear bored either, and talked at length with several of the guests.

“You’re right about the young master,” she whispered to Marion while they refilled soup tureens. “He’s odd.”

“Look at the few people he’ll actually chat with,” Marion whispered back. “Only blue bloods. He won’t even look at Lady Eleanor Endor. She married into her title, and he don’t consider her to be one of them.”

Julian’s obsession with noble bloodlines meant nothing to Eleisha on that first night. She only sensed that he was a creature of few or deeply hidden feelings—someone to be avoided.

His dim shadow passed when he left a week later, and Eleisha was offered a real position with a moderate wage as Marion’s assistant. She and her mother were assigned a small, whitewashed room in the east wing. For the first time in Eleisha’s memory, they had a space of their own.

Time passed. Eleisha began taking a strange satisfaction in her work, quite different from before. The prospect of setting out lovely breakfast trays for Lord William (especially when somebody else had to do the washing up) evoked a nurturing instinct. If he had been anyone else, her feelings might have been different. But on her second morning of service, she forgot her place briefly and smiled at him when he walked in for tea. Instead of having her chastised or dismissed, he smiled back.

Their surface relationship never developed beyond small things—her extra care in setting his place, the occasional newspaper next to his plate, preparing his tea with the right amount of milk—but he made it clear she was to stay in the dining room until he had finished, and two weeks later her wages doubled. She grew to like his hunting jackets, his quiet manner, and the thin structure of his aging face. Something sad drifted behind his gray eyes, distant and lonely.

Lady Katherine never came down to breakfast or luncheon.

As with that first animated dinner party, dark spots in Eleisha’s life occurred only with Julian’s infrequent visits. One night in 1836, he burst unannounced through the great front doors, two guests in tow.

“Father! Come look,” he called as though drunk. “You’ll never guess whom I’ve brought.”

Both Lord William and his wife were in the study, sipping brandy after supper. Eleisha followed them out to see Julian and the guests.

Julian stood laughing in the entryway, his cape covered in mud, his mouth smeared with streaks of blood. On one side of him stood a handsome, similarly mud-covered man. But all eyes turned to his other side. Even the eerie laughter, even the red smears on his lips, could not hold attention in light of his second guest.

Rather than pale, her skin glowed a soft ivory. Perfect features, framed by a mass of chocolate-black hair, almost detracted from the low-cut, red velvet gown she wore.

Eleisha decided later that it was not mere beauty, but something more, something exotic that drew such stunned and wordless stares.

“You all remember Miss Margaritte Latour? Maggie?” Julian bowed low in mock chivalry. “Philip’s whore fiancée? You must ask her to tea sometime, Mother.”

Lady Katherine’s eyes clouded in anger. Perhaps she was the source of her son’s belief in dominant nobility. Perhaps she was simply jealous of Maggie’s overwhelming attraction. Perhaps both.

“Philip, my boy,” Lord William said, walking over to clasp Julian’s other guest in a quick embrace. “Good to see you. How are the vineyards?”

“Julian, wash your face,” Lady Katherine hissed while the others fell into speaking French. “Eleisha, go fetch a washbasin and pitcher.”

Only too happy to leave this macabre scene, Eleisha hurried down the hallway. Were they all half blind? Julian had blood all over his mouth and openly insulted one of his companions. Why did no one react? Why did no one ask him where he’d been?

She quickly returned with the water basin, and then fled the study before anyone noticed her. There was something else, something terrible in the room. Fear. It had been slight in the entryway, but grew stronger each moment he was home. A sickening, uncontrollable fear flowed from Julian and filled her with a panic she’d never experienced.

Locking her bedroom door for the first time, she crawled under the covers with her sleeping mother and passed a restless night. The previous evening’s events felt like a bad dream the next morning while she set out trays of breakfast choices for Lord William.

“Will Master Julian be joining you for lunch?” she asked timidly.

“No.” His gaze drifted into space. “He’s gone back to Yorkshire.”

Relief like tart water flooded into her mouth. Good. Let him stay there.

The following year, Eleisha turned fifteen, her mother passed away quietly, and Lord William began to forget things. Small things at first, like where he’d left his hunting jacket—while he was wearing it—and the names of books he’d just read. As he was well into his early sixties, these spells seemed simply a part of growing older. But then his actions grew puzzling. One afternoon scarcely an hour past lunch, he walked in and sat down at the table.

“Are you hungry, sir?” Marion asked.

“Hasn’t my lunch been prepared?”

“Yes, sir. You’ve already eaten. Poached sole and greens.”

His eyebrows knitted, and he looked at the mantel clock. “Oh, yes, of course . . .” He seemed about to say more, but then stood up and left abruptly. No one talked about it afterward.

Slight changes began taking place. Fewer and fewer dinner guests were invited. Lord William forgot the names of people who had just been introduced and kept asking them the same questions over and over. Marion stopped going over the menus with him and began giving the cooks lists of dishes he’d always liked. Lady Katherine stopped having brandy with him in the study after supper.

One morning at breakfast he spilled his tea and cringed with embarrassment.

“Oh, this is nothing,” Eleisha said, toweling up hot liquid. “Last week I tripped over a bucket of mop water in the upstairs hall. That was a true mess.”

“Would you read me the paper?”

The question surprised her. But why should it? People’s eyes often gave them trouble at Lord William’s age.

“All right, but I’ll have to spell out the long words, and you can tell me what they mean.”

Lady Katherine might have fallen into a fit if she had walked in right then to see Eleisha sitting at the dining table reading her master his morning paper. Five minutes after she read one column, he asked her to read it again.

Marion peeked in once to see if the silver breakfast trays had been cleared away. After listening for a few moments, she cleared them away herself.

When he was done hearing the morning paper, Lord William said, “Come pheasant hunting. Good hunting by the pond.”

Eleisha’s duties did not include going hunting with the manor lord. But Marion’s head suddenly poked back in. “Go on, child. I can take care of setting up lunch.”

It occurred to Eleisha that everyone else, including Marion, seemed to be avoiding Lord William. Did his condition distress them? Was it frightening or merely an annoyance?

She found some old boots and spent the entire morning tromping through the trees looking for pheasants. Lord William forgot to bring his gun, but that hardly mattered. They talked of senseless pleasantries like food and the manor gardens and then sat for a while by the pond pointing fish out to each other before she reminded him it was time for lunch.

While donning her nightdress for bed that night, she heard a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

To her shock, Lady Katherine—quite striking as usual in a deep blue satin gown—walked in with a stiff, unreadable expression. “Good evening. Were you retiring?”

The question itself stunned Eleisha speechless. In the three years since their first encounter, those were the first words beyond instructions or commands she’d heard from her mistress.

“I am sorry to disturb you,” Katherine went on without waiting for an answer, “but I couldn’t help watching you today with Lord William. I have a good view of the fields from my window.”

“Oh, forgive me, my lady. If you would prefer I remained at my normal duties . . .”

“No, it isn’t that.” She paused as though searching for words. “I’ve been thinking for some time about hiring a companion, someone to watch over my husband during the day. But the right sort of person is difficult to . . .” Her face clouded. “No matter how it may seem, I love my husband very much, and I won’t have someone patronizing him, even if I can’t stand to be in the same room with him myself.”

The raw, messy emotion Katherine displayed to a mere servant embarrassed Eleisha. “Of course, my lady.”

“You care for him, don’t you? Not just as your lord, but you seem to truly care for him.”

“Yes, he is a kind man.”

“He is.” Katherine’s eyes flashed with pride, perhaps of days long past. “Women of my state have little say in whom we marry. I was more fortunate than most.” She paused, this time for several long moments. “I owe him something. Your position has changed. You will be his nurse, his companion. But only if it pleases you. Do you accept?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Your wage will be increased accordingly. I’ll have you fitted for appropriate outdoor clothing. Lord William is happiest outdoors.”

“Yes, I know, my lady.”

“I think you do.” She stared at Eleisha. “Doesn’t it bother you to answer the same question fourteen times and watch the pain on his face as he spills his brandy?”

“No. I spill things all the time.”

Eleisha added no title onto her last answer. Katherine’s face fell into defeat, despair, as she walked out the door. “You will begin tomorrow. Marion doesn’t need you anymore.”

No, Marion didn’t need her anymore because the house was declared officially dead. No more parties. No more dinner guests. People like Katherine couldn’t be publicly embarrassed by a doddering old husband. Eleisha’s feelings remained mixed for some time. She later found this to be the most tragic stage of William’s illness. His manners and grace were famous about Wales. Cliffbracken was known and admired for its fine food, good company, and pheasant hunting. But now the festivities were ended, and Lord William was still mentally intact enough to be aware. He noticed Lady Katherine’s discomfort. He knew the servants avoided him.

Over the next year, Eleisha’s importance changed slowly, gradually, until she became indispensable. William often got lost in the house and believed himself to be a boy in Sussex again with his grandmother. Instead of correcting him, Eleisha often played the part of whatever past relation he believed her to be, and soon he’d slip back into reality without knowing he had ever slipped out. She fed him all three meals and was silently given license to go anywhere in the manor. She was allowed to take him out in the carriage—indeed, encouraged to do so. No one called her too bold. No one insinuated she was living above her station. No one envied her at all. They simply prayed she would continue to occupy Lord William’s days and be the one to deal with his illness.

When he ceased sleeping through the night and began to wake, crying and lost, she moved a cot into his bedroom and slept there. No one said a word.

Lady Katherine kept to her rooms, but she and Eleisha avoided each other. Something behind the mistress’s calm face began to grow: hatred. It waxed clear that she hated herself and hated Eleisha even more. The need—to need anyone as much as she needed Eleisha—drove the proud woman to malice. Her revulsion toward William induced guilt that became obvious.

“You look out for yourself after the poor master passes on,” Marion whispered one night. “She’ll send you off, she will. No one’s to blame, but she’s got hard feelings for you.”

“Why? I’m doing what she wants and being paid more than Mr. Shevonshire.”

“’Cause she needs you. Every waking minute she’s afraid you’ll have enough of him and leave her to be the one.”

“That’s ridiculous. I’m not leaving.”

“’Course you ain’t. But she don’t understand.” Marion paused. “None of us do. How you spend nearly every waking moment wiping his chin and telling him where he is again. It’s uncanny. It’s odd. You make her feel a sorry excuse for a wife and in the same thought she’s frightened you’ll leave. Do you hear my meaning?”

“No.”

Eleisha found them all pathetic. William was simply ill, not repulsive, not a threat.

When Eleisha turned seventeen, Lady Katherine began to show signs of age herself. Guilt turned to agitation, and she appeared to be waiting wildly for something. But what? When the servants began to avoid her more than William, Cliffbracken became a lonely, frightening place. Only Eleisha seemed to thrive.

One late night in November, she sat reading parts of The Iliad to William while he gazed into the study’s burning hearth. They both jumped when Lady Katherine fell through the door, smiling madly, her satin dress torn at the waist, wine stains on her skirt, and wisping strands of red-gray hair floating about her face.

“He’s here, darling,” she said to William. “He’s come back to help you.”

“Who’s here?” Eleisha asked.

Katherine’s eyes narrowed. “You may retire.”

Servant-master relations long forgotten, Eleisha was about to question her mistress further when a cold, dimly familiar essence floated into the room. Fear. “Master Julian’s home?” she asked.

“Get out, you insolent bitch.”

Gasping in spite of herself, Eleisha turned toward the voice to see Julian’s tall, dirty form standing in the doorway. To get out, she’d have to slip under his arm.

But William drew his attention, and he entered the room, giving her a space to bolt. She stopped short outside. What was he doing here?

“I knew you’d come.” Katherine’s voice drifted out.

“After twenty-seven messages, you grew difficult to ignore.”

“Help him. Save him.”

“You ask the impossible, Mother.” Julian’s tone softened. “Let him die quietly. Remember him as he was. It’s a kindness.”

“But he isn’t dying! Just fading away like some mad circus clown. Every day a little worse until the sight of him sickens me. Bring back his dignity. You can. I know you can.”

“I can’t.”

“Then you never loved him. You never loved me! What good is your immortality if it gives nothing to those who gave life to you?”

“And then what? Then what, Mother? Do you want to see him feeding on the stableboys? Living forever with a young mind and aged body? Without peace? Without rest? He isn’t like me. He was always better than me. Killing to live would only hurt him. Don’t ask me to do this.”

While their exact words made no sense, Eleisha did grasp one surprising thing from this argument. Julian loved his father, understood the psychology of William far better than she ever imagined he could.

“Help him,” Katherine whimpered. “For God’s sake.”

“No.”

“Eleisha!” A ringing bell and screaming mistress brought Eleisha flying back into the room.

“Yes, my lady?”

“Take your master up to bed. He is tired.”

The expression of profound relief on William’s face at the sight of his young companion was not lost on anyone, least of all Julian.

“Eleisha, child,” William said. “It’s time to sleep.”

“Yes, quite late,” she said, smiling. “We won’t dream tonight.”

 
Toward the wee hours of early dawn, fear crawled into Eleisha’s slumber, and her eyes opened to see Julian’s nearly black ones directly above.

“Don’t,” he whispered before she could move or cry out. “No one will come.”

Angry words gathered in her mouth. Terror overwhelmed them, driving them back down her throat.

“What’s wrong with my father?” Julian asked.

His question threw her, and then she noticed the worried lines across his pale forehead. He must be desperate, or he wouldn’t have lowered himself to speak to her in the first place.

“Age, illness. That’s all.”

“Don’t patronize me,” he spat. “It’s more than age. I’ve seen old age.”

“Why are you asking me?”

His hand jerked back to strike her, and then he stopped, breathing in harsh, shallow gasps. “I want no part of this . . . My mother’s words say nothing. She’s mad. A cold bitch at heart. Not like him.”

Unlike Lady Katherine’s emotional deluges, Julian’s evoked pity. “He was a good father, wasn’t he?” Eleisha asked. “Kind? Understanding?”

Julian lowered his hand. He walked over to the sleeping form of Lord William. “Yes, a good father. Wouldn’t hear of a riding master. Taught me himself. Never pushed me or asked for more than I could give.”

“You were fortunate.”

“And look how splendidly things turned out,” he rasped. “He deserves more. Mother and I deserve less.”

Part of Eleisha wanted to stop him, to urge his secrets away. These words were born of exhaustion and sorrow. Right now he needed someone to talk to. Tomorrow he would despise her for knowing his weakness.

Suddenly, that didn’t matter.

“Things don’t always work out the way we plan,” she said. “Your father is proud of you. He always has been. Don’t you remember his laughter at your party? Not false or forced—a happy night.”

“Does he remember me? Does he know who I am?”

“Of course.”

“How long have you been sleeping in here?”

“Two years. He has trouble sleeping. Bad dreams.”

Eleisha watched Julian’s tall form as he stood for a long while beside William’s bed. Then, without a word, he turned to the door.

“Sir?” she said quietly.

“What?”

“Tomorrow I won’t remember any of this. I won’t remember you were here.”

He stared at her briefly and then walked out.

 
“Heartless thing!” Katherine wailed. “Cold and cruel, like a lake in December.”

Why Julian didn’t simply leave remained a mystery to the servants. Each night, his mother’s railing grew worse. She hounded him in the halls, cried to him in the study. His face betrayed obvious horror, but he seemed unable to escape. Some invisible force held him at Cliffbracken, refusing to let go. He ate nothing, slept all day, and sat staring at Lord William most of the night. Eleisha grew accustomed to his presence and even slept well. A bizarre scene. Scandalous. A young lord, an old lord, and a serving girl spending each night in the same room. But no one said a word.

“It will be my fault if he dies,” Julian whispered through the dark.

“Of course it won’t,” she whispered back. “Don’t talk like that.”

“No, it will be. Mother’s right about that part at least.”

This obsession grew worse, and Lady Katherine sensed it. “Why don’t you help him? Why don’t you save him?” she cried at dinner the next evening. Neither of them ate a bite.

The pressure built. The storm gathered for weeks before exploding into a nightmare. Eleisha heard Julian cry out from the study, and then the sound of books being thrown.

“All right! All right, Mother. But this is your doing. Your wish. If he hates me afterward, I’ll kill you myself.”

What was he going to do?

Fear closed Eleisha’s throat. Julian swept into Lord William’s room, eyes gone red. “Get out,” he snarled at her.

“What are you going to do? I could hear you shouting from here.”

Without answering, he grabbed her arm and threw her out the door. His hand felt cold. She hit the hallway wall and fell, scraping her elbow. Lady Katherine climbed up the last step on all fours, wispy hair hanging loose, an insane, triumphant look on her face.

“What is he doing?” Eleisha asked. “You’ve got to stop him.”

“It’ll be fine now, dear,” Katherine whispered. “Just fine. Go to your room and stay there.”

For reasons beyond logic, beyond fear, Eleisha got up quietly and did as she was told.

 
The next day, Lady Katherine did not emerge from her private quarters, and Lord William had vanished.

“Where could they have taken him?” Eleisha asked a sniffing Marion.

“I don’t know. It’s a loony house, it is. What with them shouting through supper ’bout God knows what.”

“Lady Katherine’s mad.”

“’Course she’s mad! They’re all mad. You just noticing that now?”

The day passed silently. Several cooks and servants slipped away without collecting wages. No one blamed them. Julian’s habit of emerging in the evenings made Eleisha wonder if she shouldn’t follow suit and disappear before dusk.

But what about William? She couldn’t leave him. And what if she interfered? Julian would kill her. That much seemed certain. If it had been anyone but Julian, her courage might have won.

Knowing she could not pack up and run, she simply went to her room before sundown and locked the door. Perhaps events would work themselves out. She would just wait. Despite Marion’s outburst, Eleisha knew Julian hadn’t lost his mind. To the contrary, if anyone had control of this terrible situation, he did.

The screaming began shortly after dark. Eerie, keening wails from Lady Katherine swirled up through the floorboards. She wailed on and on until nearly ten o’clock. Eleisha pulled a comforter off the bed and crouched down inside the closet. Around midnight, she had just drifted off when a loud, smashing sound jerked her awake.

“Where are you?” Julian shouted.

He was in her room. Sounds of the bed being jerked amidst gasping snarls terrified her into silence. Maybe he wouldn’t think of the closet. Maybe he’d just go away.

The fragile whitewashed door flew back as its hinges were ripped out. Julian’s hand closed over her wrist, his eyes bloodshot, his breath stinking of something stale and sweet.

“Please, please don’t . . .” Fear drove every other thought away. In all her life, Eleisha had never begged for anything—not food, not money, not mercy, not pity. But she begged now, like a frightened, kicked dog. Her fingers clawed at his. “Please, let go.”

“Quiet.”

He yanked her up and toward the door. By the time they reached the hall, she was sobbing. A familiar face peered out from the opposite room.

“Marion, help me!”

No one answered. Marion couldn’t stop Julian. Nothing could.

He dragged Eleisha straight to the end of the hallway and slapped the end wall with his free hand. To her amazement, it opened up to a black stairwell. Turning, he picked her up with one arm and descended the stairs rapidly. She stopped fighting and clung to his neck, too numb to think.

Soft light emanated ahead. Julian ducked his head below a beam and entered a glowing open space with stone walls decorated by four torches. Lady Katherine sat in a heap on the floor.

Dead center of the far wall stood a door. Dead center of the door was a two-foot barred window. Julian carried her over to it.

“Look inside,” he whispered.

Barely discernible muttering drew her attention before she made out the room’s occupant. William paced back and forth in a ceaseless flow of motion, talking to himself.

“Lord William.”

The sound of her voice caused him to whip his head around. She grasped the bars in helpless frustration, but then pulled back when he rushed up to her. His prominent wrinkles had deepened to dried creases, his flesh looked chalk-white, and dried blood covered his hair and cheeks.

“What have you done to him?”

“This place used to be a prison,” Julian said. “Not a legal prison, but a place where my grandfather locked away troublesome servants and relatives. I used to play here as a child, pretending the cells were full of people. Father always hated it here.”

“What did you do to him?”

“Made him immortal.”

“No, you failed!” Lady Katherine cried from the floor.

Julian’s body shook slightly, and for a moment Eleisha thought he might begin screaming himself. But his voice went on in low, controlled tones. “He is an abomination now, not what was intended. I worried about his reaction, his morality, trapping his once-sharp mind in an aged body, but never this. His illness is forever now. I’ve damned him to eternal senility.”

Julian’s white shirt was soiled and stale. He smelled of mold and something sickly sweet. Waves of fear washed through Eleisha.

“Please, put me down,” she said.

“No. My father must leave this place. I can’t bring myself to kill him, but he has no place here.”

“You want me to take him away?” Her heart rose slightly. Julian might have slipped over the edge with his mother, but he might let her take William and run. That was almost too much to hope for. “I’ll take him far away, as far as you like. Just unlock the door and let him out.”

“It isn’t that simple,” he whispered. His jaw twitched. “You’ll die in one lifetime, and then what happens to him?”

He walked over against the wall and slid down, holding Eleisha in his lap with one tightened arm. “Whether you believe me or not, I find this regrettable. You aren’t the right type any more than he is.”

She sobbed once and tried pushing him away as he grasped a handful of loose hair to pull her head back. “I’m weak and tired,” he whispered. “This will hurt.”

The world exploded into white. Awareness waxed dull, and memories grew dim. Eleisha didn’t feel his teeth, but thought his lips were burning, crisping the flesh on her neck. Pushing at his chest, too lost to cry, she grew light and faint until the ceiling seemed inches away. Perhaps it was.

Her eyelids fluttered. His white face looked down from directly above, teeth ripping at his own wrist. He forced it into her mouth. “Take it back. All of it.”

Warm.

Rich.

Liquid flowed freely into her mouth, and when it stopped flowing, she bit down to draw more. Heaviness filled her again, then darkness.

 
Eleisha woke up in the crook of Julian’s arm, lying on the dirt floor, stunned to find she had both wet and soiled her nightdress. Lady Katherine was gone. William whimpered from his cell. How much time had passed?

When she sat up, Julian stirred. She stared at him. “Your wrist is still bleeding.”

“Get cleaned up and pack a bag. Then do the same for my father.”

“Where are we going?”

“Just do it.”

An hour later, the three of them were traveling in a carriage at top speed down the coast road. Eleisha feared Julian was going to kill the horses.

“You’re driving them too hard.”

“Quiet.”

“Where are you taking us?”

“I’ve booked two tickets on a ship to America. It’s an old cargo ship, and you can’t feed on the sailors. Don’t try to eat any real food, or you’ll be no good to anyone. Just manage by draining rats or whatever else is available. I’ve heard we can last up to three months like that if necessary. You’ll have to hunt for my father as well. Stay out of the sun completely, or you’ll die. Are you listening to me?”

“Julian, I don’t know what—”

“Just do as I say!”

She clutched tightly to William’s shivering form and remained silent for the next two hours. When they pulled into a small wharf town, Julian hid the carriage in an alley and jumped out. “Stay here no matter what happens. I have to hunt.”

Eleisha lost track of time. She sat, comforting William and waiting in terrified confusion. She almost sighed in relief when Julian’s tall form slipped around the alley corner, and he climbed back up beside her. His face looked fuller, healthier.

“You have to feed before boarding. At least once.” Using his own teeth, he tore at his wrist again. “Here, drink this.”

“No.”

He grabbed her head and forced his wrist in again. The warmth grew overwhelming. A hunger touched her mind, and she bit down again, this time consciously hating his closeness but unable to stop. He finally pushed her away.

“What am I?” she asked without emotion.

He didn’t answer, but turned instead to William. “Open your mouth, Father.”

William tried feeding, but spat and choked blood on the carriage seat.

Eleisha grasped his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Julian answered, troubled, confused, but perhaps beyond caring. “That is your concern now. Besides sending you money, I wash my hands of this. He is your charge, your responsibility.” He pushed a velvet bag into her hands. “This should see you to America. My banker will open an account for you in New York.”

“I don’t know anything about banks . . . I don’t know anything about America.”

“Come with me.”

Helping William, she followed Julian down to the dock. A stocky man dressed in a blue uniform awaited them. “Yes, sir,” he said nervously. “I’ve prepared a space in the hold, as you asked.”

“The old man has a skin condition,” Julian said. “He’s not to be out during the day. His maid will stay with him at all times.”

“Very good, sir.”

Julian handed the man a pouch of money and walked away. He never looked back.

Three nights later, hunger struck. It was faint, uncomfortable at first. They had no rooms to speak of, only blankets laid on the ship’s floor in the windowless cargo hold. William crawled around, sniffing the blankets like an animal.

“Lunchtime, yes, it is. Must be lunchtime.”

Remembering Julian’s last words, Eleisha cornered and caught a squealing rat, amazed at how swiftly her body worked and how easily she had sniffed the creature out.

“Here,” she murmured through cracked lips. “Bite down on this and suck.”

William snapped down as though the rat were a juicy bit of fruit. She watched in dull horror as he drained every last drop of blood and fell back in exhaustion without choking or spitting as he had with Julian.

Wanting to vomit, but finding herself unable, Eleisha lay on the floor and stared into darkness.

“What am I?”