Sybrina (10 page)

“
How can they do this? Aren’t there laws that govern the sea?” A woman that I have not spoken to before asks the questions with panic rising in her voice.

“
We are at open sea. They can cause as much trouble as they wish.” Mr. Overton sighs. “And take whatever they wish.”

A loud crash sounds above all the other noise and guns and stomping. In a communal reaction, we all look up in fear.

Long seconds pass. In helpless frustration, we all stare at the ceiling praying to ourselves that the
unwanteds
go away. An image of the one who calls himself Vadim crosses my mind. His outward demeanor appeared courteous and righteous but underneath I sensed a malevolent being.

Heavy booted footsteps crossing the deck are
the only sounds we can hear now.  Things have grown quiet. The crowd of us watches the ceiling as the boots make their way to our only escape route, the hatch above us.  Gloomy haze fills our space as the doors open. A sharp voice call down, “Send the lady up!”  Everyone turns to me, fixated. There is no question that the person he is referring to is me. My heart that has been racing wondering about the goings-on above stops short. I suck in a deep breath and walk slowly toward the ladder.  Michael grabs a hold of my arm.

“
No.  Don’t go,” he pleads.

“
I have to.”

Dread has replaced the weakness of my illness, and I command my feet to take deliberate steps and climb.
What more can be done to me? If they want to take my life, they can have it.

As I reach the top rung, a hand appears from above me
. I take it, attempting to maintain a lady’s decorum. A familiar man, one of the sailors, greets me, but his face is a mask of alarm. I glance around wanting to know my surroundings and what is waiting for me, especially fearful of meeting the animated corpse.

There is an ominous stillness encasing the foggy haze
—everyone is stopped. They are in one place, not moving. Even the sailor who helped me above is now immobile. The only being that is willfully moving is Vadim.

“
Here she is... Here is the beauty,” he says with shining eyes.

The fiend reaches his hand out to me in a courteous manner, and I take it. It kills me to do so but this type of creature needs its ego stroked. I have spent copious amounts of time learning what types of men respond to feminine and meek, and have encountered ones that respect
my independence and knowledge. I don’t know what kind of man he is or how he has the power to do what he’s doing, so I am taking the safe route and a part I’ve played many a days growing up.  I smile at him but it is entirely forced. He leads me across the deck and my skin prickles in defiance of his nearness.

“
It is such a shame that you left school so quickly,” he says, speaking as though we are walking along a beach on a blissful afternoon with no cares.  He does not speak as though sailors lie dead, their bloody bodies strewn about the floor, and that those that lived are restlessly paralyzed.

A few steps forward and a crewman is in our way, stupefied, frozen, his will stripped from him.  Vadim sends me an evil grin, mocking without words this poor man
’s condition.  Vadim strides a pace closer and holds his arm out and simply says, “Jump.” Freed of the invisible bond that holds him, the sailor turns, walks toward the balustrade, and throws himself into the cold sea.

No!
Boils up from my stomach and bursts forth in a scream.  This twisted, evil man before me with powers I do not understand smiles down at me vainly, making sure I know his abilities.

I nod sweetly, regaining my composure, knowing full well that this man can take control of my sensibilities
in an instant.  I don’t respond to his cryptic school reference and take a substantial look at the mayhem around me. Some of the corpses of the crew are in that bizarre repose—jaw stretched, arms contorted, and eyes wide.  Flashing images of my parents and brother shoot around in my mind.

Then it happens
; I change myself in that moment. I rally my resolve and go from scared female and demure aristocratic daughter to medical student.  I point toward the closest body that has been exsanguinated.

“
How does this happen?”  I question, stopping our walk.

“
Always so thirsty for knowledge,” he comments, bright and eager to be the teacher.

He leads me gently toward the crewman that used to be Simon.  We stand over him looking down at death.  Vadim stretches out his fingers and points to Simon
’s neck. “See the puncture wounds? They are made with teeth.”

I stud
y these wounds and the small amount of blood that has pooled in a minuscule knot on the skin of the corpse.  I reflect back to my notes and findings. “So they are bit by an animal?”  I think hard. “A bat?” 

He laughs heartily.
“You have been reading too much fantasy.”

My eyebrows scrunch up, puzzled
. “It is the only animal I can think of with long incisors that would be that tiny.  A bat could fly onto the ship.”  My reason is trying to find a legitimate cause for the deaths.  I know in some deep recess of my mind I want to be able to rationalize away the horror.

“
I think you know better... I believe you wish to think it some type of anomaly or disease spread by animals.”

“
What can do this?  Tell me,” I request.

“
Vampires.”

I shrink back from him in revulsion.

“Your scientific mind knows this.  You were on the cusp of the discovery when you fled England.” He speaks as though triumphant.

I take more steps back as little bits and pieces start falling into place
—exsanguination... being followed... a reanimated corpse.  The examinations of the bodies in England… the impossibilities… and hypotheses of my instructors... my research.

“
It is stories and folklore,” I challenge.

“
Everything starts from something,” he retorts as his eyes change, defying me.  The blue becomes white glass. He puts his index finger to his lips, stifling a devious chuckle laced with mockery. “...Oh, and remember, Miss Sybrina, everything comes back from the sea.” 

I shudder at his words
, then am startled by something that lands behind me. I whirl around and see... the old man.  He is spry and is looking straight at me in his deformity...
“Whore in a lad’s clothes!”
He repeats what he said that fateful night.  I flinch back and clasp my chest, ready to scream, when he jumps up onto the ropes that control the sails.

I watch
it
with repugnance, and notice suspended in the air hundreds of feet above the deck with arms stretched out to the sides in a deranged interpretation of the crucifixion
, Mouse!

Bile crawls up the back of my throat as I watch the old man approach, scaling and flying with ease rope to rope to get to him.  The dead man has cat-like reflexes.  I stare in horror and wonder what he plans to do.

“Such a simple man...” Vadim muses.  “Very fond of you... of course.  Who wouldn’t be?  A beautiful, smart lady of high society.”

I turn to look at him.  His voice hints that he has something diabolical planned for my friend.  I hold in my cries and screams that want to be set free.  Part of me is incapacitated with fear and the other part
roars in want to help Mouse.

“
Please.  Let him down.” I let the words flow off my tongue as a request.

“
I like Mouse there, high above us.  He makes an interesting decoration, don’t you think?”

“
No.”  I pause.  “Please release him.”

“
Revenant!”
  Vadim calls out.

Without any provocation, the old man
beside him wraps a rope around Mouse’s neck; his neck and arms are coiled in rope now. I feel a hysterical frustration build in my chest.  I lunge forward but a steel hand stops me.

“
Watch,” Vadim orders.

The ropes suspending Mouse
’s arms are loosened by the old man, causing Mouse to hang.  He sputters and coughs violently.

“
You’re strangling him!”  I scream and try to pull free from Vadim, but his hold is iron.  The old man swings around above us like a monkey, laughing as he watches Mouse struggle.
I can’t do anything!  Mouse!
  I shout in my head. 
He’s dying!

Each second that goes by is one closer to Mouse
’s death. I let my mind work to figure out how to save him as the seconds tick by. “Stop this!”  I try again and attempt to rip my arm away from Vadim.

“
I want your journal,” Vadim declares.

“
What?!  Stop this!” I cry, overwhelmed and disheartened.

“
Where is your journal?” he asks.

“
I don’t know what you are talking about! Get him down, please!”  My pleas are frantic.

Mouse
’s frenzied kicking and choking are slowing down. He is losing his battle against death.  His face is turning purple from the lack of oxygen. 

“
I want your journal.  I know you’ve hidden it.”

“
I don’t have anything but a small bag of essentials.  Now, please let him go!”  Tears well in my eyes and pour down my face.  I can’t control it; sobs lodge in my throat. Dark bruises are forming under my skin where the concrete grasp of Vadim holds me. My speech is a garbled mess as I pull and yank, wanting to break free of Vadim.

Bang!
A shot is fired and the rope twisted around Mouse’s neck snaps.  He is freed of the strangulation in an instant.  The ropes around his arms are the only thing saving him from plummeting to the deck below. I make one last attempt at breaking away from Vadim.  He lets me go, and I fall down from my own momentum, landing hard. I look up at my captor, feeling insignificant, in time to see his eyes change to sharp glass. I shuffle backward, my hands scraping whatever lies behind me. Rage creeps across his countenance.
All is lost!  My demise is imminent!

“
Vadim!” A powerful voice that I know well, that haunts me now more than the heinous past few months:
Elijah!
  His voice carries eerily on the wind in a rabidly twisted fury.

Springing as if a bolt of lightning, E
lijah flies from the captain’s perch through the air, tackling Vadim into a tangle of men.  I watch them in bizarre fascination from my position on the floor. They fly fast like bullets over the edge of the ship and plunge into the sea.
No!
I don’t have time to process anything; I stifle my fear, getting to Mouse my only task. I
need
to get to him.

On my hands and knees I crawl toward the mast nearest Mouse
. He is swinging; only one arm supports him now.  The rest of the crew is still powerless and inert to help me.

A hand touches my leg and I whip around ready to fight.  It is
Michael; a gun is in his hand and his other arm in a sling.  He must have snuck up from below.  He nods to me and mouths
“go”
and I continue to crawl to Mouse with Michael behind me. I move as quickly as possible, tearing my dress on splinters and crawling over whatever macabre debris lies about left over from this attack. I move faster, but progress feels stagnant.

As if on cue, the entire crew reanimates, confused and dazed.  Slowly, they find their mobility.  The old man sees the brewing awakening and does the
vilest action.  He tears the rope in half that is suspending Mouse. With surreal horror, Michael pulls me to my feet to run. He has my hand as we dash to Mouse, and the
Revenant
then jumps off the mast and into the ocean.

In terrified realization, I behold Mouse dropping to the deck, arms flailing, and landing in a hallowing crunch.  A sheer act of devilry as I have ever seen.  Michael
’s arms come around me to turn me away from the scene.  Time stands still in awed disbelief.  I hide my face in Michael’s chest, my body taken over with sobs.  Mind and body fighting to rationalize all that I have seen. 
Mouse!  No! No!

“
Hard to port!” Captain Stokes yells, pushing the crew to get us out of here. “Pull the rigging!  Get us away from here, Mr. Rufus!”  The fog lifts and the intruding ship is gone.

Others who survived the attack check over the dead.  Some curse with grie
f while others howl, wounded and feral, for the catastrophic loss of their friends and shipmates.  A few around Mouse converse softly, lamenting his death. More shouting ensues, and I hear in the bedlam, “He’s alive!”

“
Miss Sybrina!” Mr. Tinker calls to me in a feverish terror.

I leave Michael
’s comfort and run across the deck, my dress making me clumsy as I make haste.  I hike up one side of it to regain momentum.  On the ground is a mass of ripped clothing, blood, and corpses.  I kneel beside Mouse.  His breathing is shallow and blood leaks out of the corner of his mouth.  My vision is blurry through the tears I can’t stop. I suspect internal injuries and a broken back.