Sybrina (14 page)

Elijah is the first to break the embrace, hesitantly. 
My mind is swirling with desire.  My eyes are closed and when they open, Elijah’s deep green ones are fixed upon me.  He smiles radiantly and I smile with him.  In a gentlemanly manner he takes a step back, sweeps his hand across my impromptu laboratory, and requests, “Explain this to me.”

I gather myself and reach over to my notes.  I was able to secure a writing tablet and pencil from the ship
’s stores.  Attempting to clear my head, I start.

“
Under a microscope, the blood taken from the victims acted unlike human blood. I began studying it at school when I scraped small amounts of blood from the wounds of the exsanguinated corpses we found around England.  It was a very minute amount but available all the same.” Looking down at the paper in front of me, I recall, “I took copious notes, but left everything behind when I learned of my family’s deaths.”  My stomach sours at the thought of first learning of their demise—crippling and painful.  Then a harsh realization dawns on me that
my notes
is the journal Vadim referred to. 
Oh! Joshua!
  “My friend,” I say absently.  I believe Joshua would have taken my effects and stored them for me.  It was never discussed, but knowing him as I do, I am sure he would take care of me so.  What if Vadim learned of the location?  I must stop him before he steals more from me.

“
Sybrina,” Elijah says, alarmed, “You have paled.  Are you ill?”  Elijah touches my face with care.  I shake off my worry and discomfort.

“
I am well…  The blood you carry has a natural fighting agent. The sample of blood I took from you confirms it.  What if a foreign substance is ingested?”

“
I have consumed foods.  Those have not injured me.”

“
Hmmm…  Foods ingested through the mouth, not harmful. Do you need food?”

“
No.”

“
Of course, ingestion would be too easy.  That eliminates my first and less probable hypothesis… Fire.  What about at a high temperature?”

“
I’ve seen immortals walk out of infernos.”

I
pause to sort myself. “Holy water?”

“
Folklore,” Elijah retorts quickly then stops.  “Although I have heard whispers of large amounts blistering our skin, but it heals almost immediately. Some old fellow, I heard, did it over and over.”

“
Why?” I ask.

“
Boredom... Madness… It’s a malady we do not fully understand,” Elijah says offhandedly.

“
You once told me that no metal forged could hurt your skin.”

“
Correct.” 

She pac
es as she recalls her knowledge. I believe I may be able to figure out a way to extinguish Vadim.”

“
This way to destroy him, if you found it, you may also be able to destroy me?”

“
Yes.  It would be a way to annihilate an entire race... all vampires,” I say gravely.

“How would you do this?”

“
I need more time to figure the particulars.”

If I did not know better I would say now that Elijah is pale.
His handsome face changed into something solemn. “I’ll leave you to it.”  He departs with very little acknowledgment and the weight of the world on his shoulders.

I take another vial of Elijah
’s blood, and think about how sad he looked as he left.  I would have expected that a fiend such as Vadim, a person that has caused such anguish in so many lives, being expelled would be a relief to Elijah.  I tap the glass watching the swirling red liquid. The composition is visibly thicker than human blood.  I place it in the crock beside my small homemade laboratory.  I rest my hands on the table and let out a frustrated sigh.  The veins on the inside of my arm are bulging and it hits me.  I know what I have to do. I walk to the musket balls and grab a bunch in my hand, caressing and swirling them around in between my fingers.  I think about all of the facts and make a decision. It is the only way to end this.

Out of the corner of my eye
, I see Mouse hovering in a corner watching me while I work. His face is tortured and brooding.  Immediately I think he is not happy about becoming a vampire. It was a mistake.  Should I have let him die?  Slowly, he saunters over and sits on a bench by me. He is staring at my pile of ingredients and mixtures but is looking right through them. His words are soft. “Can I ask you something?

“Of course. You can ask any manner of question you wish.”   My heart aches to see him looking so forlorn.  I developed a deep affection for him in a short time.

“Will you teach me to read?”

I am surprised
at his question after all he’s endured in the past few days. I would think he would want to discuss his altered state, or the tragedy of losing his shipmates, the trauma of dropping from the mast.  Literacy is a topic I would never have deduced.

“I would be happy to.”

His face brightens, but I know I will not live long enough to teach him anything.  In his new life, t
here shall be many others to teach him.  He could go to school if he wished, learn any trade, and travel to the furthermost reaches of the earth without fear.  His possibilities are endless without the limitations of growing old.  In essence, he could be the most intelligent being on the earth if he set his mind to it.

Elijah
:

Destroy Vadim?  It is not possible!
  The words floating on the air recounting a way of actually taking him out of the world is not as syrupy as it should be, it sounds heinous.  On an inexplicable level, I have reasoned that he is my mistake and here to stay. Sybrina’s use of the word
race
, a word that is synonymous with validating vampires as worthy of being in this world, gives substance to a creature only thought of in the pages of horror stories and tales.

Would I want her to find a way?
  A small part of me is elated that if I ever wanted to finally leave and not spend eternity walking the earth, I could dispel myself.  The thought of being in this world without Sybrina would be an inducement but any other reason would be an immortal suicide not justified by anything other than cowardice. I make my rounds on the ship checking for any signs of Vadim or a new attack, and I can’t help but think on the demise of Vadim’s love, Sarah. 

Sarah
’s parasol cast a shadow on the cobblestone walkway as we stood at the base of the brownstone waiting for Vadim to bring the carriage around.  Her delicate skin shaded from the rays of the summer sun, with a bustle on her dress that was all the rage of the period.  Sarah’s figure, slight in stature, like Sybrina’s.

Behind us
, below the windows of the immense home, carefully planted to grow into its unruly state, is a conglomerate of blooming roses, protected by a wrought iron fence.  Small sprigs of yellow wild flowers jut out from in between the large blossoms.  I remember laughing with Sarah; her face was bright and lively.  It was in that moment it happened.  There was no warning.  A brown mass with hooves stretching out of nowhere trampled Sarah where she stood inches from me. An innocuous event of waiting roadside, something done over and over, turned catastrophic by a runaway horse.

  Even with all my vampiric powers
, I could not stop the tragedy, Myself, weakened mildly by the sun, scooped up her broken body and fled to the rear of her family home.  Her death was almost immediate.  Sarah’s breath left along with her soul. I laid her on the sun-warmed ground, tore open my wrist, and let my immortal blood pass between her blue lips.  Death came too quickly, taking her away from this life.

Vadim
’s love lost to a freak accident.  Had I been faster or paying more attention to our surroundings, turned over in my mind like a spinning wheel. I was too late.  Sarah was gone and it was too late to change her.  Vadim’s chance at a mate to pass the long years with was lost in a speck of time.  The opportunity to go through the monotony of too much time with another half of yourself, a person you did not know was missing until revealed.  The two of them, Vadim and Sarah, not changing or growing but together all the same.  She was his awakening to the blandness.  I grasp this more acutely now than in the past one hundred years. 

Sybrina
:

I have never stolen anything in my entire life.
It is not just because I was raised in an affluent family.  Many silly games were played by my peers at the local shops.  The spoiled aristocratic children would see how many gum balls they could take unnoticed from the merchants.  I would never want such a deed to weigh down my conscience.  But here I find myself creeping into the captain’s quarters with a vial of drinking water.  My senses are so heightened and my blood pounding that I can hear every creak in the floor as I move and every small scrape of the ship.  The bottle sits like a beacon, glowing as if it knows it is my target.  I tiptoe like the thief that I am over to it.  I pick up the beautifully sculpted flask and unscrew the stopper.  I pour the holy water into the clean vial I pull out from my waist band.  I fasten the cover on it and pour the drinking water into the flask.  I reset the stopper and the guilt of my action weighs on me.  Asking the captain for it would be the proper way to handle such a deed but anonymity and secrecy of my actions is the only way to secure my plan without the interference of well-meaning men.

Back in the kitchen, I use the embers from Cook
’s fire from the previous evening. I grab the bellows handle and fill the firebox with air, stoking them to life.  I find myself staring at the tiny dancing flames and reflecting on how the embers did not die but lay dormant until rekindled by the force of air.  I take tinder from the log box on the hearth and throw it on the fire, heating it up.  The flames grow, swaying and spitting, readily gaining more heat by the second.  I pull the bellows again, feeding the wiry tendrils like a baby starved for its mother’s milk.

On the stove
’s burner, I place a cast iron pan, heating up the metal.  I give a quick look around me for skulking vampires and see no one.  Elijah and Mouse are nowhere to be seen.  I reach into the box of musket balls, taking a handful, and drop the bullets into the hot pan.  I swish them around and around with a wooden spoon, melting them like chocolate.  I yank the bellows down again, dousing the fire with more air.

Back at the log box, I take a nice dry one and place it on my now raging pyre. I stir the melted metal some more then walk away for a moment to acquire the mold I took from a container in the ship’s stores—a knife mold.  I had hidden it behind a cabinet by the doorway, foreshadowing my own intentions.  Using a thick rag to protect my hands from the heat of the pan handle, I pour the liquid metal into the knife mold.  While allowing it to cool some, I take a bowl large enough to fit the small knife and fill it with the stolen holy water.  I reach above me for Cook’s metal tongs and release the new knife from its shell and hastily submerge it. Steam rises, touching my cheeks and burning my eyes; I have to look away.  A deep hope resonates that this combination will be enough to subdue or kill Vadim.  Through my research and what I have learned from Elijah, this has to work.  Without experiments or tests, I am working on hypotheses and guesses.  I remove the knife from its bath and place it on the table then clean up all of the remnants of my underhanded task. Then I hone the blade on Cook’s sharpening stone.  Over and over I run the blade across the stone, changing its composition to a fine point until it’s sharp, making it ready for my gruesome plot.

*****

Visiting the passengers below seemed like a way to clear my mind. The trap is set, and the only unknown variable is when to spring it. Maybe in some bizarre way I wanted to see them as a way of saying goodbye
.
Revenge is on the forefront of my mind, fueling my bravery which is but a shoe string. My reason knows it is wrong, but knowledge is suffocated by my grief contorting my want and need to save those I care about and end this nightmare.  If Elijah truly knew my plan, he would chastise me and never allow it.

I find
Helen drawing little fanciful pictures of animals on the wooden floor.  The boredom of day in and day out in a dank room in the bowels of a sailing ship must be even more tedious for a child, especially a spirited one who wishes to be out in the fresh air and playing in the grass.  At her age, I preferred reading every chance that presented itself.  I had devoured every book in my father’s personal library by the age of fifteen.

“
It’s Sybrina!” Helen calls out, happy to see me.  Her shining face reminds me of the reason I came down here.  To see a child with happiness on her face, when a massacre took place above her head only a day or two ago, gives me hope. The tragedy she has witnessed will forever be branded on her.  It may not present itself today or this year but at some point Helen will remember and come to face all that has transpired here.  She runs to me, enshrouding me in a hug.  I embrace her back, kissing the top of her head as if I were her older sister gone away to school, and back for a visit.  It felt like home.

“
How goes it above?” Mr. Overton asks me, clearly worried.

“
Quiet,” I say, which is not a lie.

“
How is the young man… Mouse?” he inquires.

“
On the mend.  He is doing quite well.”  I am happy to deliver some good news.  Mouse is doing very well, the
want
of moving forward and learning to read an indication that he will do well joining the ranks of the vampires.  I fear the malady of the mind that Elijah spoke of but in this moment he is a credit to his race.  I am so proud of him.

I look over at my pillar and leaning against it napping is Michael.  Mr. Overton walks to him and taps his foot with his own.  Michael rouses
, startled out of his sleep.  He sees me as he scans around and smiles.

“
Sorry.  I did not expect Mr. Overton to wake you,” I apologize.

“
No,” he says, wiping the sleep from his eyes with his undamaged arm.  “I wanted to see you.”  I kneel down and gently move the sling from his arm.

“
Let me see how this injury is faring.”  I check the bone and its connection to his shoulder.  It is healing but it will take a long time before he will be able to use it again.  “It is doing well, but remember to keep it immobile so it heals properly.”

“
How is Mouse?” he asks.

“
Well.  He is going to be fine.”  I smile, replacing the sling on Michael’s arm.

“
Fine?” he questions.  “You must be a remarkable doctor!” he exclaims.  He casts a telling gaze at Mr. Overton and shifts his eyes back to me.  I cannot look at him to face the lie.  Mouse was not healed by me but by an unknown force of nature

“
I am not anything,” I remark cynically.  And I am not—not a daughter, a sister, or even a student anymore.  I am nothing. The melancholy thoughts bring me back to why I am visiting and this talk is only fortifying my resolution to stop a villain.

“
Come play a game of hopscotch with me!” Helen calls to me. “Please.”  Her request gives me an out in regards to answering any more of Michael’s questions and I cannot say no.

“
Go back to sleep,” I order Michael good-naturedly.  “My work is never done,” I say, winking.  I get up from my squatting position and join Helen by another hand-drawn hopscotch grid.  This one is different than the other one that washed away in the storm.  It is decorated with flowers and leaves.  “What a beautiful job you have done.  This is very fancy.”  Helen beams at my compliment.

“
But another storm will wash it away.  It will be lost,” she says sadly, her head drooping in defeat.

“
No.  You have it right here,” I tell her as I point to her temple.  “And so do I.  I will always remember Helen’s pretty hopscotch. Shall we play?”

“
You go first,” she instructs me.  It is amazing how diverting children can be.  I forgot all about the wickedness that has been on the bow of the ship or the hours I spent in the galley wrestling with science.  The only reminder came from my waistband as I jumped and the blade would shift, causing me to recall everything.  I drop my penny on the number five when the hatch above is thrown open with brute force.

“
Whore in a lad’s clothes!” is shouted down through the opening.  “Whore in a lad’s clothes!” trails down in a macabre sing-song voice over and over.  My body freezes and my stomach lurches. 
The Revenant is back!  Vadim!
 

A torch of
kerosene-soaked cloth is dropped down into the hull and it lights up like the wick of a candle, quick and powerful in a loud burst.  Fire overcomes the ship, trapping us all below. Balls of yellow and gold flash, wickedly consuming everything in its path.  Billows of deadly smoke fill our tomb, attempting to put us in death’s sleep before its brother’s flames ravish us.

Mass hysteria!
There is nowhere to run to and nowhere to hide. The ladder for topside, which I can see through the flames and smoke, is nothing but charred twigs.  I hear the shouts of Helen calling for help; she was just beside me but has disappeared in the smoke. There is no one here that is not in the same condition, choking. 

The oxygen is depleted and my nose fights with my coughs to try to get in some clean air when there is none to be had.  I stagger as the flames come closer to me.
A hand grabs and pulls me toward the back of the burning cavity.  It is Michael, futile in attempting to cover his mouth with the cloths suspending his broken arm.  It seems an unfair end when I have endured so much to be drowned by smoke and eaten by flames.

Over the cacophony of screams, yells, and the fire
’s own thunder, I hear a thud from the direction of the trap door. I squint as best I can though the black smoke.  Nothing. I step forward to get a better look and the smoke singes my eyes, causing them to tear and close.  I force the door open to see black, red, and orange in a jumbled blur, unable to focus. 

In a lucky break, I
see Mouse’s form, lithe and swift. It is hard to say what he is doing, but after minutes tick by at a snail’s pace, a shower of cold saltwater douses the blaze. The thick smoke churns in anger, my breath seizes on a final inhalation, and my body goes numb.

My vision is clouded when I wake and realize I am being carried.  My head is heavy due to lack of oxygen and smoke damage.  Deep coughs rack my lungs as my body tries desperately to regulate my breathing.  Black soot covers Mouse’s face as I look up at him from my place cradled in his arms.  He seems so much older to me—not at all the boy I met days ago—my savior to swoop down and save me and the others from being reduced to ashes. Distantly, I hear deep sounds of a fight, not of two ordinary men, but the thrashing of immortals.

“
Mouse.” My hoarse voice is barely audible.  “Mouse.”  He looks down at me, definitely a man now.  I reach into the band of my trousers as we move swiftly across the deck away from the wafting smoke. I pull the knife out to show him.  “Use this,” I squeak out before I cough again violently.  Our eyes lock as he tries to understand me, comprehension dawning too late.  My eyes go wide as I discern the being behind him,
the Revenant.
Mouse!
I yell to him in my head because I am unable to speak.  The old man grabs Mouse from behind, yanking him back, and I crash to the ground.  The minuscule bits of air my body can take in whoosh out of me as I fight to stay conscious.  A hand comes around me to stand me up and I panic.  Michael! Michael is with me, and he leads me farther away from the fray. 

Elijah
:

Cries from deep within the ship alert me
when I am walloped hard from behind, and I stumble forward. 
Vadim!
  There is no warning or grand entrance as in the past.  I spin, readying myself, perplexed at this change in our strange dance.  His fist swings out, and I duck just in time but the fissure he creates from the power of his punch runs down the wall of the ship.  Smoke billows from between the cracks of the boards that make up the deck, and I hear the screams more acutely.  I am whacked again when my concentration goes to Sybrina.
Sybrina! Where is she?

“What a cowardly act from a Cossack!” I seethe, calling him out on his lack of battle code, squaring off with Vadim.  His eyes flash and I know I have cut him at his vanity. 

“
Your little lady has been very busy,” he barks, sending another blow my way.  “You should keep a shorter leash on her.”  My temper flares at his insult, and I regain myself knowing that his strategy is the same as mine.

“
You cannot have her!” I roar, lunging at him and sending us both to the floor hard.

“
Your little witch is burning!” he spits back at me, triumphant, as we roll around trying to gain purchase.  Face to face, he starts, “She has been busy forging a knife...  What an odd occupation for a lady.”

I grab Vadim by his shoulders and throw him violently against the mast with a crunch.  He recovers quickly
, sending a kick to my ribs in the exact same place he injured me before.  Death’s sleep will come for me again but not before I do the same to him. 

“
She wants to kill us!  Your lust makes you stupid!” he thunders. Enraged, I reach for his neck to snap it like I have done twice, but he blocks me, knowing my intent.  We exchange blow after blow in a preternatural requiem.  This has to be the end. These morbid encounters continue to bring death and sorrow and it is my doing.