I had a dream that she would leave before I woke, but when dawn broke she was still there, asleep in my arms, delicate and fair and achingly lovely. Before I left, I kissed her forehead and whispered that I loved her…This morning feels like a lifetime ago as I sit on the floor of an empty room, watching the clock tick vacant minutes. I found the ring abandoned on the windowsill, far too plain for her finger. Brushing my own lips, I know that the sweet taste of Cecilia will linger there for all the days of my life…She never loved me; I knew it this morning as well as I know it now…No one should be alone in Paris.
~From the diary of William Wells; January 16th, 1681
~*~
Another girl wore this garment. Perhaps she stitched it herself, or maybe it was purchased for her in one of the larger settlements near the bay. At one time this soft fabric had clung to her skin and kept her warm at night. She slept in this gown and lived in this cabin before she died. Elizabeth traced her fingers gingerly over the Brussels’s lace at the collar—far too ornate for wear in Wethersfield. Exhaustion finally overpowered her, and she slowly slipped into unconsciousness in someone else’s bed.
--
Everything hurt. Elizabeth woke unpleasantly to aching muscles and a painfully stiff lower back. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up slowly and almost called out to Dawn to ask whose turn it was to make porridge. Reality did not hit her fully until she blinked several times and ascertained that the foreign surroundings were not part of a waking dream. She remembered everything in a flash—riding on the horse, the graveyard, the cabin, the dead girl’s gown…Someone had draped a quilt around the open side of the staircase, creating a miniature room around the small cot in which she slept. For that she was grateful. Outside her simple sanctuary, booted footsteps creaked and thudded over the floorboards, and pots occasionally clanged together from the general direction of the makeshift kitchen.
Elizabeth hoped that it was Mr. Giles she heard. Maybe he would take her home before sunset, after he had the opportunity to explain their secret. She did not care what it was now; she would just agree to never tell a soul and then be on her way. Before she moved the curtain aside, she’d already rehearsed the beginning of the conversation in her mind.
“Mr. Giles, I want you to know that whatever it is you’re going to share with me, I promise that I will--“
“Just me, pet.”
She froze when she saw William stirring something that boiled over a tiny fire. The temptation to hide behind the stairs grew awfully enticing. He glanced at her with those piercing blue eyes and smug expression as if he were anticipating a retort.
“Where is Mr. Giles?” she asked coolly, choosing to look out the side window instead of meeting his gaze.
“Rupes traveled up north to the trading post ‘cause we needed some supplies that uh—well you can’t find ‘em in Wethersfield. Sorry to disappoint, but it looks like you’re stuck with me for the time being, princess.”
“I told you not to call me that.”
“It’s what you are, in’t it? Royalty from the islands with scores of servants to wait on your every whim?”
Here he was, a stranger, and yet never before had someone possessed the ability to so easily infuriate her like he did.
She seethed, cheeks burning, “How dare you presume to speak as though you know me. When will Mr. Giles return to take me home?”
“Least a day or two. Maybe longer. Listen…” Something about him seemed to drop, deflate, and she glimpsed a peek of sad vulnerability behind the invisible mask he wore. “I’m sorry, all right? For last night, I didn’t intend to hurt you.”
“Oh you did not intend it. My, you are a gentleman—kidnapping me, bringing me up here, tying and beating me—“
“Hey now pet, I believe it was you that threw the first swing. If I take a hit that throws me off guard, I’m gonna react. Instinct’s what it is.”
“And you have no qualms with striking a woman, I take it?”
“Your colony has a law says it’s a man’s right to beat on a woman if he chooses.”
“This is not my colony.”
“Neither is it mine…Truth is I’ve known women with strength so far beyond my own they coulda beat me to a bloody pulp if they wanted. Don’t make me any less of a man to admit it.”
“Why do you speak so oddly?” she asked, keeping her tone an icy neutral.
“That’s cause I’m not a sodding colonial like the rest of you lot. I was brought up in London.”
“Surprising as it may seem, I have known several Londoners. Not one of them spoke as you do. None of them used such uncouth language.”
“Well I doubt we’d run in the same circles, luv. I was brought up in the bad side of London—streets of Whitechapel. Heard of it?
“Yes, actually. Isn’t that where the—well, the uh—“
“Prostitutes—ladies of the night—meet their wealthy clientele? You’re too dainty to say it, aren’t you? How typical. Yeah that was my home, jumping between boarding houses; my mum worked the rooms. I never knew a father and neither did my sister. She was the strongest, noblest person I ever knew, my mum, and I was never ashamed of her. So you can take that pretty blush outta your cheeks.”
“What happened to her?”
“Cupid’s disease, the black lion, took her just like the rest of ‘em that lived off the streets of Chapel. Susan and me were just kids.”
Elizabeth stiffened. He is only telling me this for empathy. He is a criminal—not to be trusted, she assured herself. Though for a fleeting moment, the pain in his eyes made her uncertain.
“I’m sorry,” she said haltingly, “My mother died some months ago. It’s the reason I came to live in Wethersfield. My father was killed a number of years back, and—and there was no one else.” Elizabeth bit her lip in surprise, shocked that she’d easily shared something so personal with a despicable stranger.
When he looked at her, she saw that expression again—the soft, gentler one that made her uneasy. She had expected some snappy comeback about how a little rich girl could never know suffering, but instead he remained silent for a long moment.
“It’s never easy,” he murmured, “Being alone.” And with that he turned his back to her and busied himself by fiddling with meal preparations.
“How did you come to live with Mr. Giles?” she asked, quickly changing the subject.
“He took us in, Susan and me, after we’d lost everything. And now here we are…Do you want something to eat? All we got’s some meat broth and a bit of stale bread.”
“I suppose,” she glanced down at the gown she wore. Does it hurt him to see me wearing it? “So…are you ever going to explain what you were doing the other night? I know what I saw, no matter how relentlessly I deny it to myself. You stabbed that man—that thing—and it disappeared. What are you, some kind of magician?”
William chuckled as he placed a loaf of bread on the table. He gestured for her to sit.
“I’m not much of anything, really. My sister was the Slayer. I just help out when I can.”
“What’s a slayer?” she asked before tearing off a piece of bread and shoving it hungrily into her mouth.
--
“Hey sorry again ‘bout the ties, but I can’t trust you outside. Not yet, anyway.”
Wearing a borrowed pale pink gown and cloak, Elizabeth rolled her eyes and huffed in response. Did it not occur to him that she could run just as easily with her wrists bound? He was proving himself an inept abductor, which gave him a decidedly less threatening heir. She chose not to run, however, because first of all, she likely would not get far without knowledge of the land; and secondly, it surely would not be much longer before she was found.
“My family is searching for me by now, you realize.”
Elizabeth walked briskly down the forest path to keep up with William’s swift pace. He obviously knew the terrain well and easily breezed through every root and ditch, while she struggled to keep her footing on the rough trail. After their meager lunch, he’d offered to show her around the land that surrounded the pond so she could get her bearings—as long as he kept a rope knotted pointlessly around her wrists.
“You sure about that?” he asked over his shoulder.
“What do you mean—of course I am sure!”
“Are they really your family?” William asked, his voice hollow, more distant, “Do they even know you?”
“That’s absurd. Yes they—well, my cousin, I…she is my family. I love her.”
“Right, and it ain’t like you’ll never see her again—but have you not listened to anything I’ve been explaining to you?”
Elizabeth sighed, resigning herself to placating him for the time being.
“Fine. Let me see if I understand this correctly: a demonic creature that takes a person’s body after death and feeds on the blood of the living?”
“Yeah. Vampires—you pretty much got it straight. Garlic, holy water, crosses, stake through the heart, beheading. That’s all you gotta know.”
“Beheading, lovely,” she muttered before raising her voice, “Do you have any idea how unbelievably insane all of this sounds? And good lord, can you slow down for half a minute?!”
“I do,” he answered, not slowing his pace in the least, nor bothering to look back as he spoke. “Seems like forever ago, but I remember hearing it for the first time. I mean I never even believed in God and then all of a sudden I find out the world is controlled by light and dark powers. Demons and slayers…Sounds like a bunch of rubbish, eh?”
“And your sister—Susan—she was destined to fight these things?”
“More like chosen. She was spotted as a potential by the Watcher’s Council early on. They sent Rupert out to Whitechapel to track her, and then when Mum died he took both of us and started givin’ her lessons. Those ponces told him to leave me behind—I was just a worthless kid, good for nothing. But Rupes brought me along and taught me to fight. I didn’t have her power, her gifts, but I proved myself useful enough.”
“Watch the what? Never mind. So you were trained in Europe?”
“Yep, and all over. Asia too. Romania, India, China…we didn’t stay in one place for more than a fortnight, it seemed. Then Susan got called—she received the power—and we were warned of some mystical upheaval in the New World; and hence, I’m now stuck here outside a town full of morons, battling evil eternally for nothing.”
“Surely it isn’t for nothing.”
“Right. Every night I defend their borders from demons, and what do they do? They call me a witch.”
Before Elizabeth had a chance to ask him sardonically if witches were real too, she became startled to see that they’d somehow stepped out of the forest. Trees, brush, and undergrowth which had been so abundant just a second before now laid way to barren waste. The expanse of land beneath her feet was the size of a large cornfield, and yet not a speck of weed or grass sprang from it. The soil hardly seemed like earth at all; it was too thin and grey, like ash. Everything here felt wrong, heavy, like nothing belonged. Even the air grew thinner, yet stifling, as though it threatened to suffocate anything that walked and breathed.
“What is this place?” Elizabeth asked in wonder, her voice falling flat in the oppressive atmosphere.
For the first time since they’d stepped into the cool afternoon sunshine, William stopped and turned toward her, hands stuffed in the pockets of his long, weather-worn cloak. He only stood a few feet away, though this place made her feel as if she were completely alone.
“I had to show you…I figured you wouldn’t believe the vampire bit, no one does, but once you set foot on this place—it’ll get to ya. Evil. It’s real. Can you feel it?”
“Yes,” she murmured, her brow wrinkled in perplexity, “I can’t explain, but I believe you…What--?”
“The Pequot people knew. Sukáyuw—Bitter land, they called it. The legend goes further back than that, though. Ever heard the phrase, “From beneath you, it devours?”
Gooseflesh crept up Elizabeth’s arms, and the skin on the back of her neck tingled. She had never heard those words before, but they were familiar nonetheless. Like the ghost of a nightmare, slipping from someone’s lips in a wordless cry…
“No,” she answered quickly, “What does it mean?”
“Something bad was here once, and it left traces of itself behind. Everything’s bitter: the air, the land, what lies beneath it. Now it’s a place of power. Dark things are born from it, feed on it. It infects all it touches and breeds the same evil that gave birth to it.”
“Wow. Could you please get a little more poetically vague for me?”
He let a quick smile slip at her sarcasm. Blue-grey eyes sparkling, his features softened as he watched her; and Elizabeth felt both surprised and troubled at the flood of warmth that the seldom-revealed smile released in her belly. Quickly clenching his jaw, the stony, angular face of her captor returned abruptly. “That’s all you need to know. Just don’t come around here, yeah?”
“Stay away from the evil, bitter grey field. I think I understand. Well I won’t say understand. How about I just agree to comply? Now can we get out of here?”
He raised a scarred eyebrow and shook his head. “Sure,” he replied, leading the way back into the forest.
Throwing one last glance at the wasteland behind her, Elizabeth shivered. It was so much simpler not to believe.
--
“Where do these…vampire things come from?” Elizabeth asked once they’d returned to the land surrounding the pond.
“I already explained that in a process called siring—“ William began, still walking ahead of her.
“No. I just mean where are they…around here?”
“They got lairs in the woods. Other places…the grave yard definitely, and the field I showed you. But no worries, pet, as long as you’re inside after dark they can’t get you unless you let ‘em in.”
“How comforting…” she mumbled as her eyes drifted to the water, “My hands are covered in dirt, and I’d like to wash in the pond. Will you remove this rope?”
He folded his arms, frowning. “Well that all depends. You gonna bite me?”
She glared at him icily until he relented, and to her amusement, approached with caution and a look of…could it be slight apprehension? When he loosened the knot, his hands were gentle. After hurling the rope into his chest and turning away, she rubbed at her sore wrists.
Elizabeth knelt on the bank of the pond and peered into the inky surface of the water. She gazed at patches of her reflection glittering back at her. The beginnings of an ugly bruise stood out just above her swollen lip. Brushing her fingers across the mark, she wished it would disappear, making her skin flawless and smooth once more. Immediately she berated herself for the desire. Oh honestly, this is no time for vanity.
Dipping her fingers into the chilly water, she rinsed some of the grime from her hands and forearms. The reflection of an angular, handsome face appeared rippling in the water just above her own.
“Why do they call it Raven Pond?” she asked, speaking to the face in the water.
“Blackbirds come around in the spring. There’s some children’s legend about the pond being made outta their feathers.”
“That’s sort of romantic…Can you swim in it?”
“Now? Are you bloody nuts, it’s freezing!”
“No not now. I mean, have you ever?”
“Yeah. It’s nice in the summertime.”
She glanced up over her shoulder. His expression seemed distant, as though he saw something she couldn’t reach. An odd sensation overcame her then. She wondered what it would be like to live here instead of in that horrible, stifling town; and what it would be like to wake with the golden dawn in mid July and bathe in the refreshing dark water, birds and crickets chirping all around. For a moment she envied Susan and the free, exciting life she must’ve led. Well, except for the whole vampire thing…and the dying thing.
“Do you?” William asked.
“Hmm?” Lost in her own thoughts, she’d missed his question.
“Do you swim?” he repeated.
Elizabeth stood, smiling longingly. “It was once my favorite thing. In Bermuda, I used to sea bathe every day. Mother and I would—“
William’s eyes met hers, his brow creased. Tentatively, awkwardly, he reached his arm out toward her. He hesitated before resting his hand on her shoulder and patted her gently before stuffing his hands back into his pockets. She accepted the odd comfort he tried to offer.
“Well, I suppose I’ll never be able to swim here. It’s a sign of witchcraft, you know,” she said once she’d found her voice again.
William chuckled, his laughter infectious. “Sodding Puritans. God, we need to get outta here.”
Elizabeth looked at him curiously, wondering at his choice in pronouns.
“Sun’s gonna be settin’ soon. Time to get inside,” he said, his words clipped.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
My beta calls this "the Shadows of the Past" chapter. If you've read Lord of the Rings you'll get what she means. : ) I'm out of town for the week, so this might be the last update for a while...Thank you all so much for the comments and reviews! They really are better than chocolate!