The Darkening Dream (19 page)

“I don’t see that, though Dmitri’s a quiet one. He just stood there—”

Her words went right in one ear and out the other. Part of him knew he should find a way to pass on Grandfather’s warnings about the Caliph.

Instead,
he leaned in and kissed her.

Nineteen:

On The Water

Salem, Massachusetts, Friday night, November 7, 1913

W
HEN THE KISS HAPPENED,
Sarah’s first thought was whether or not she was doing it right. Neither of them was very tall, but she still had to stand on her tiptoes, so what was she supposed to do with the rest of her body? At least her lips seemed to manage.

It was over quickly, and she realized she’d closed her eyes — which meant she wouldn’t be able to relive the whole thing in her memory, at least not her hyper-detailed visual memory. When she did open her eyes, she found herself staring into his. Close. Had he enjoyed it? She had. Her head felt a bit light and she realized she’d forgotten to breathe.

“Would it be all right if I did that again?” he asked. She supposed that meant he liked it, too.

She glanced around. A few strangers wandered across the common and another couple was kissing on a bench. Must be the spot. She leaned toward Alex. If her parents found out, Mama would hand Papa the knife to skin her alive. But given all the heaviness she’d been dealing with, didn’t she deserve a little lightness for herself?

They kissed again. He placed one hand on her shoulder and the other on her hip. This time she kept her eyes open…

From around the corner, Sarah heard the familiar sound of the twins arguing and pushed Alex away.

“Don’t say anything,” she said. “Fewer tongues to wag.”

“I’m only here,” Anne said, “so I can have a good laugh when this fellow turns out to be perfectly normal.”

Sarah’s head still spun like she’d stepped off the carousel but Alex was business as usual.

“Listen, we need to be careful tonight,” he said. “This vampire, he isn’t like Charles, careless and immature. The one’s probably centuries old and very powerful. He might have magical powers, be able to change into animals, influence our thoughts, and so on. Tonight we just want to verify that the occupant of the house is undead.”

Had Sam seen something? He kept glancing back and forth between Alex and her.

“I think I’ll be going home now.” Anne turned back the way she’d come.

“Not so fast, fraidy-cat.” Sam held an arm out to block her.

“Sam, did you bring the mirror?” Alex said.

Sam pulled two brass cylinders from his jacket. He tugged on one to extend it.

“I had a better idea” He stepped past Alex to show the cylinders to Sarah. “I found a spyglass and periscope at a nautical parts shop. A couple hours in the school machine shop, and — presto.” He screwed the two cylinders together so they formed an L shape.

Anne smiled. “Occasionally my numbskull brother has a good idea. The periscope is made with mirrors, so if we see this man through it — and we will — vampires won’t show up.”

They crouched behind a cluster of trees and looked across the street at the house Catherine Stuart had identified, a white clapboard with a small columned porch, on a narrow lot. The hour was well past midnight, but the inside lights were still on. Shadows periodically crossed the windows, the figures obscured by drawn blinds.

Sarah handed the spyglass to Anne.

“What now?” Sam asked.

“Patience, little brother.” Anne was only a minute older. “I think we just have to watch and wait. Maybe we’ll get lucky and see nothing.”

Another hour passed.

“Oh my God!” Anne said.

“You see something?” Sarah peered through the gloom.

The front door opened, releasing someone onto the porch. A big man as far as she could tell, but even wearing her spectacles he was still blurry.

“Anne,” she said, “pass me the spyglass.”

“In a minute… My God, he’s huge. And strange! I can’t tell what he’s doing — maybe smoking — but I think he’s a Negro.”

“Let me see,” Sarah said. This time Anne surrendered the brass tube.

She peered at the man’s head — higher than the doorjamb, even though he was slouching. In the yellow porch light he looked as dark as the Williamses’ cook Emma, and she was the darkest person Sarah knew. He wore no shirt either, only a shiny golden vest, and his shoes curled up at the toes.

When she passed the spyglass to Alex, his finger brushed against her calfskin glove.

“That’s a Moor if I ever saw one,” he said from behind the device. “This has to be the vampire’s house.”

“Only an evil henchman would dress like that,” Sarah said. “And he’s practically naked from the waist up.”

“Come on,” Anne said. “He looks like he’s supposed to be guarding some sultan’s harem—”

“Quiet,” Sam said. “Another one!”

Sarah stared into the darkness. A second figure, similarly strange, sauntered past. He waved to the man on the porch, who joined him. Together they walked between the houses and toward the water.

“I’ve a friend who moors his rowboat around the corner,” Sam said. “We could borrow it to get a better look from the beach side.”

They collected their things and crept along Webb Street as it curved around the cove. Sarah heard water lapping against the rocks and smelled brine in the air.

Alex trotted up to walk next to her.

“Don’t be so obvious,” she whispered, then stepped forward to join Sam in the lead.

“Alex and Anne make a fetching couple,” Sam said, glancing over his shoulder.

“Yeah, sure,” was all she managed.

They passed through an open park and onto a stone jetty. An inky shadow floated in the darkness near the craggy shore. Sam took a kerosene lamp from his pack, lit it, then drew a small wooden boat halfway onto the rocks.

Alex squeezed Sarah’s hand as he helped the girls into the bow.

“Take the stern,” Sam told him. “I’ll row from the middle. Can you untie the dinghy and hop in?” He maneuvered the boat so it was mostly in the water then climbed inside.

“No problem,” Alex said. “I’ve fished from small boats my whole life.”

He tossed the rope into the dinghy, gave it a running push, and using his momentum, threw himself into the stern. He ended up face first in Sam’s lap, with his feet hanging off the back. Laughing, Sam pulled him the rest of the way in.

“Your whole life, huh?” he said.

Sarah stifled her own laughter. Alex tipped his cap to her.

Sam covered the lamp and rowed out into the inlet. Sarah was happy the twins were between her and Alex. She didn’t regret the kiss, but it would seem weird if they knew about it — particularly Sam.

Soon they bobbed offshore from 70 Webb Street.

Anne had the spyglass again. She and Sarah huddled in the bottom of the boat, peering out over the prow.

“Two henchmen are on the porch,” Anne whispered. “They look like they’re waiting for the count’s Cossacks.”

Sam kept the craft pointed towards shore. The spyglass was passed around, but there wasn’t much more to see. The big men lounged on the porch, immobile except for the occasional cigarette.

It must have been after two in the morning when they heard the soft rumble of an engine. Their dinghy rocked as a wake rippled past. A fishing boat, maybe twenty-five feet, motored toward the house.

It was Sarah’s turn with the spyglass. She watched two dark figures on the deck toss ropes to the Moors on shore, who waded out to the boat. Two large crates were tossed down, and the Moors carried them up the beach and into the house.

No one on the dinghy dared speak. Sarah passed the spyglass to Sam and made out what she could without it. The Moors reappeared from inside the house, carrying something large between them.

“What do they have?” she whispered.

“Damned if I’m sure,” Sam whispered back, “but I think it’s a coffin.”

“Ridiculous,” Anne said. “Give me the glass.”

Sam passed it to her. “If it’s a coffin, why are they bringing it
out
of the house in the middle of the night?”

The light from the porch suddenly spilled across the beach, and now Sarah clearly saw the two Moors struggling down the porch steps with a long box between them. Alex took a turn, then passed the telescope back to Anne.

“There’s another fellow coming out of the house,” Anne said. She passed the spyglass to Sarah.

“Look through the mirror,” Alex whispered.

Sam and Alex leaned forward. Sarah could just make out a figure, maybe two-thirds the height of the Moors. She took the periscope from Sam, screwed it onto the spyglass, and looked through it. “Oh my God. The Negro’s talking to an empty porch.”

Moving her eye to the side she saw two distant figures. Looking again through the periscope spyglass contraption, she saw the Moor standing by himself, gesturing at no one. She knew she should be afraid but felt only excitement. They’d found him.

Anne took the spyglass back. A fifth man came around the side of the house. He was very thin, taller than the vampire but tiny compared to the black giants.

“I can’t believe it — that’s Pastor Parris, from our church.” Her voice quavered like a phonograph winding down. “He’s talking to the… man with no reflection.”

“Do you believe us now?” Sarah said.

“I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t, but I guess I have to go with what I see. Or don’t.”

Sarah put her arm around her, then took the spyglass again. The new man was visible in the mirror.

“Only the little fellow’s missing. The other one’s human.”

“Of course he’s human, he’s my pastor,” Anne said.

“I’m starting to think we can’t take anything for granted,” Sam said from the back of the boat.

“Maybe he doesn’t know he’s talking to a vampire,” Anne said.

Sarah looked at her. “It’s the middle of the night, and he just watched them carry a coffin out of the house.”

“Oh my God,” Anne said. “Pastor Parris is pointing our way. They must have seen light bounce off the mirror. Put it down, put it down!”

Sarah threw the contraption into the bottom of the boat. Hopefully, the mirrors hadn’t broken — they needed all the luck they could get.

“Alex, switch with me,” Sam said.