The Journal of Vincent Du Maurier (Book 1) (18 page)

When I saw his face again, it was covered in
blood. Vampires do not bleed—the thrust of my hit caused him to disgorge
the drink of chamois he had scoffed down in the mountains. As the blood spouted
from his mouth, he clenched his throat. “
Nenoroc—
” He choked on his word, as
the crimson fountain spurted without end. When a rumble came from above, I
looked up to see the boulders drop from the rock face. I dodged several,
leaving the nomad to his fate, as I ran back to Evelina on the ledge of the
cavern.

Imagine my horror when I saw my girl was gone.
The rocks came down with a fury and my only escape was into the cavern. The
bags had disappeared, and I could only hope the boy had dragged her inside for safety.
I headed into the darkness, taking in the air, tasting her on my tongue despite
the rankness of damp and death. As I made my way in deeper, the mouth of the cavern
closed when a large boulder fell on the ledge and sealed the opening. The light
vanished, as my lone voice echoed through the tunnels. “Evelina,” I roared.

Easy to track, I followed her scent, as I inhaled
it—consumed it. Even in moments of danger, my desire for her blood aroused
me. She would not get far without light, and I looked for the gleam of the
boy’s flashlight. A colony of bats clung to the stalactites above me, their
sonorous squeals diverting me for a moment—I hated bats. As I made my way
deeper into the cavern, heading into the core of the rock, I could hear the sea
in the distance. Water sloshed around my boots, as I cut through the puddles, moving
too fast to actually get wet. I breathed in the air, gripping her scent between
my teeth. I no longer needed it since I could feel her pulse in me. We were in
communion now, her blood coursing through my body, making her a part of me.
When I found her, crouching against Helgado in one of the cavern’s small
cavities, she could not see me.

“Stay back,” he said. “I can hear you.” The boy
flashed his light in my direction.

“Vincent.” Her strident voice alerted me to
her fright.

When she tried to come to me, Helgado held
her back. “No,” he said. “He’s dangerous.” He shined his light on me and I did
not feign dodging its brightness. “Who was that?” His posture was hostile, but
nothing like Wallach’s. “Why did he attack you?”

“He wanted Evelina.” I was calm, finding no
threat in this poser of a man.

“Sick fuck,” he said.

“A rockslide has sealed the entrance,” I
said. “You will not find a way out.”

A rush of pain—or perhaps
pleasure—danced in me when the girl whimpered.

“What?” The boy was panicked. “Is that guy in
here too?”

“No,” I said. “Are you all right, Evelina?” I
moved toward them and he pulled her closer. She struggled to get out of his
grip and into mine. He was a fool for thinking he could keep her from me.

“She’s fine,” he said.

“Evelina,” I said. “Are you fine?” I used my voice
to entrance her, as she silently awaited my rescue. “I will make us a way out,”
I said.

“How?” The boy flashed his light about the
cavern, remarking the inescapable situation in which he found himself.

“Trust me,” I said.

I waved them to me and Evelina coaxed Helgado
to step forward. I led them back the way I had come, following the smell of the
sea this time. I found where the cavern’s wall was wet and offered the tiniest
cracks of light. Before putting my fist through the rock to make us an exit
right there in the cavern, I placed Helgado and Evelina far enough away to be
safe, and where he would not see my enormous strength. “Shut off the
flashlight,” I said.

He was obedient now, realizing he was at my
mercy. With the two of them huddled out of sight, I blasted alternating fists
into the rock wall. Piece by piece it crumbled, as I whaled into it and tore
through the cavern within seconds. When I made enough of an opening, I stepped
out to see that I was on the other side of the mountain. The salt air rushed to
meet me and I knew we faced the sea. Before me stood an expanse of green, the
wild grass caramelized in the morning sun; we had reached the bluff.

Helgado had started to lead Evelina toward
the sunlight when I turned back to them. She pulled one of the bags beside her
and I rushed to take it from her. “Thanks,” she said.

“I’m not even going to ask how you broke the
rock,” he said. “Not even going to ask.”

He walked a little ahead to the center of the
greenscape and threw his rucksack on the ground, dropping down beside it and
yanking it open. He pulled out a canteen and took a sip before offering some to
Evelina. I helped her sit down beside him, but he only moved over a little and rifled
through his bag.

“Can you reach the apricots?” She asked.

He tilted the bag toward her, making her
reach for them herself. She pulled out several other things before finding the
fruit.

“The sea is that way,” I said.

Helgado got out his map and compared it to
the landscape around us. “I think we’re close,” he said. “There’s supposed to
be markers in the cliff above it.”

He got up again and walked toward the edge of
the bluff. I stayed with Evelina and perused the surroundings. They were
peaceful, empty. The chaos with Wallach was far now, somewhere on the opposite
side of the rock.

When the boy returned, he told me there were
three massive rocks jutting out from the center of the water, each one indicating
the location of the plants. “We made it,” he said. His hostility had turned to
excitement.

“When Evelina is rested,” I said. “You can
show me.”

“I’m going down,” he said.

“How?” Evelina looked up at him. “You can’t
climb down a cliff.”

“Oh, and he can?”

“Better than you,” she said.

“You will stay and watch over Evelina when I
go,” I said.

The brave fool did not protest since the
vertical drop was at least three hundred feet and he would not be able to scale
it with or without injuries.

“The plants are supposed to be blooming at
the base of the cliff,” he said.

“Under the water?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “In a grotto between two
rocks. That’s why you can’t see them from up here. Farouch said it was a small
opening marked by a spear that’s been stuck in the rock forever.”

“Help me up please,” Evelina said. “I want to
see this spear.”

“You probably can’t see it from way up here,”
he said.

I wondered if it was not another one of his
tall tales. We left the bags on the grass and walked over to the edge of the
bluff together. Evelina used me for support while he went ahead of us. When we
reached the edge, I held Evelina, as she leaned over and looked first.

“In there,” he said.

“I can’t see anything,” she said. Helgado pointed
downward with his good arm, but she failed to see his marker. “I don’t see it,”
she said again, stepping back.

“May I?” I asked.

She moved to the side and let me take a look.
Like her, I saw nothing but sea and foam at the bottom of the bluff. The only
indication of a hollow in the rock was the trail of water suctioned into a
crack.

“I know they’re there,” he said. “We just
have to figure out how to get you down the wall. I have my gear—”

“I will not need gear,” I said.

“What are you like a cliff diver or something?”

“Something,” I said.

“Well, are you a strong enough swimmer,” he
said, “because it looks lik—”

“Leave it to me.”

Helgado looked at me with confusion, if not
incredulity, but then resigned himself to the situation. It did not matter how
I got down, as long as I came back up with the plants.

“You should go now,” he said, “before you
lose the light.”

“Tomorrow,” I said.

“But we—”

“Tomorrow.”

I would not leave before setting up a safe
place for Evelina to rest, and I wanted to wait the night to make sure no
others arrived.

Later.
— As I write this, I sit on the edge of the bluff, looking at the
waves below. The sea is rough where it meets the terrain but tomorrow’s climb
will be easy. I am high—charged with the boost from her blood. She gave herself
to me again hours ago when the boy was already asleep. I barely put up a fight.
I wanted it. I needed it. I am no longer ashamed. My vow to Byron was broken
the moment he asked me to deny my nature. I have accepted our trade-off, her
safety for my survival. The thing that keeps my stone heart beating—for
my heart does still beat—is the one thing I will never resist. It is the
blood, but also the power—the divinity I am fated to engender. The
numbness, the vibrating ecstasy, the fire in my belly, all tell me I am
becoming the other.

When I was finished, she placed her small hand
on my cheek then slid it down to the corner of my mouth. She put her slender
fingers between my lips and ran them across my front teeth. When she touched
the sharp points of my bloody fangs, she withdrew her hand. The spell was
broken. She wiped the drops of her own blood on her robe and went back to lie
beside the boy. She can never unfasten this yoke between us.

25 November.
— At dusk, the benign
presence finally revealed itself.

I headed down the bluff early this morning,
as soon as the sun rose. The two were sleeping, but I did not want to waste
time. I thought I would have to make several trips if the plants were in fact
in bloom, but I had no idea that the first trip would eat up the entire day. I
carried the empty rucksack on my back, as I scaled the side of the bluff. I
stole swiftly down the rock and reached the surface of the raging sea, the
water exploding with anger only Nereus could muster. It splashed up at me, as
if inviting me to sink in and play.

I used my claws to get to the place where the
water was sucked in through the rock. The edge around the opening was slick and
I had to grip the stone with my talons to hold myself steady. The splintered
tip of what was once a spear marked the spot. The opening was tight, but I was
able to slip inside, keeping a grip on the rock. By this time I was soaked and
my marble frame was made even heavier. As soon as I got through the crack, the
hollow opened up inside and I found myself in a natural grotto with vaulted
ceilings. The ground was well below the sea, but I found a small ledge on the
inner rock to stand on.

Raised up from the pool, I inspected the rock
walls. The opening was nothing like the cavern, this hollow filled with
vegetation. The rocks were vibrant and alive, covered in green and yellow
algae—moss grew in abundance, as crabs skidded sideways through the
aquatic brush. The overgrowth was so thick I could barely see anything else.
With it and the mist from the sea, I wondered if I would have trouble
recognizing the plant, until I caught a familiar whiff that evoked a memory so
strong I did not feel myself drop in and under the water. I succumbed to a
Stygian darkness too impenetrable even for a vampire. Engulfed and floating as
though in space, my mind was like a sieve, everything pouring out of it save
one ancient memory.

When I was a boy, I was taken to Mount Pelion
to see the sibyl who lived in a cave much like this one. I recalled her damp walls,
the dreariness of her hovel decorated with shoots and sprouts. She had frightened
me with her crooked looks. She had no teeth, and her cheeks were sunken, framed
by matted strands of hair that hung down past her feet. When she petted my face
with her ugly fingers, I gagged on their smell of sardines and cloves. “S-s-s-s-alt
water—cherries-s-s-s-s kiss—and this-s-s-s,” she said. She held out
a clay pot filled with water. A flower with large petals and a thick yellow
stigma sticking up out of its center floated inside. Its fragrance was both
sweet and savory, like cinnamon and olives. Unforgettable and rare, I had never
seen it before or since. “Thetis-s-s-s,” she said, “
sótéria.”
Her eyes rolled back into
her head and her mouth clenched into a tight wire. Her voice was low and
sonorous, as she chanted
sótéria—Thetis—sótéria—Thetis—sótéria
.
I recognized my mother’s name but not the other.
The foolish sibyl’s words meant nothing to me
until now—now they mean everything.

When light finally reached my eyes, my head
was propped up on the ledge of the grotto, my body still submerged beneath the
water. I was struck by the serenity and clarity I felt at the memory. I could smell
the cinnamon and olives of the flowers in the hollow. I had located the Dilo
plants and they were in bloom.
Thetis—
t
hey were my mother’s flower,
the ones that would lead to
my
salvation
—
sótéria
.

I pulled my body out of the water. It seemed
as though I had lost hours, transfixed by the smell and memory of the sibyl.
The sun barely reached the opening, as I made my way along the rock shelf to
the flowers, guided by their scent. They were just out of reach and I had to drop
into the water to get to them. My body was as heavy for me as a slab of granite
is for a human, and I was forced to propel myself up and out of the water with
little leaps to prevent from going under again.