Chapter Six

I stood for a long moment, one hand on the door, collecting myself. This man…this thing …troubled me in ways I could barely fathom. He'd brought his victim to my door and…laughed in my face. His appalling act disturbed me on a profound level, the mocking humor in his smile its own offense.

That my mind's eye could find beauty in that same smile did not bear thinking about.

The young man on the bed groaned, drawing me away from my inner turmoil. "We'll see to him, at least."

"Of course," Will murmured.

"Would you be able to bring me a bowl of water? It'll be easier to judge his health if we wipe some of the dirt away."

With a nod, Will left me. Had he heard the vile things that creature had said? My meals are pleasant affairs . The very idea disturbed me, or perhaps my own want was the disturbing thing. Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I turned to my patient and raised the oil lamp that was my only source of light.

Young. Not yet twenty years, judging by his smooth chin. So thin his cheekbones jutted, and his dark hair was sparse. He'd known hunger for a long while, maybe his whole life. I took his hand. Cool, but not as cold as the creature's. He wore black trousers and a grubby white shirt with a tie around the neck. One of the crew, most probably.

Before we'd departed, I'd received notice that there were one hundred seventy crew members. Some were dark-skinned Egyptians and others darker-skinned Africans. Of those, not all chose to wear Western dress. Based on his dress and his fair skin, this young man could be English or perhaps French. Based on his smell, he'd emptied his guts somewhere.

I put a hand on his forehead. He stirred but did not open his eyes. His skin was sallow, but he had no fever, and other than the wound on his wrist, he had no sign of injury.

"Cholera or seasick, or are you simply drained of blood?"

He murmured something.

"What?"

"Won't stop moving." Abruptly he sat. "Where am I?"

"You're in my bed. I'm the ship's doctor."

"How'd I get here?"

I shrugged, not sure how much to explain. "One of the other passengers found you collapsed in a hallway, so he brought you to me."

"Not collapsed, sleeping." He rubbed his eyes. "So dang many fellows I couldn't get a bunk."

Will tapped on the door and came in carrying a bowl of water and a clay jar. The smell of roasted meat preceded him. "This was sitting by the door. I think maybe it's a stew."

Setting the lamp on my desk, I took the jar from him. The lid was loose, so I lifted it. "Beef stew, from the look of it." I turned to the man in my bed. "Have you eaten?"

He'd swung his legs over the bed, apparently drawn by the scent. "Yesterday, but it weren't enough."

"But you've been ill…"

"Too much drink. I'm much better now."

"Here, Will, give him the water and a cloth. Clean up a bit and then you can have some of this."

"Nah, that's all right. Just gimme the jar and I'll be on my way."

Will and I shared a glance. "All right." I shrugged. "You sure you feel well?"

He grinned, wrapping his hands around the jar. "Nothing that this won't cure. Thanks very much for the help, doc. I sure appreciate it."

He made it to the door before I thought of an objection. "Are you supposed to be on duty somewhere?"

With a groan, he opened the door. "No idea what bell has rung. I'll just have a few bites and hide it with the cows."

With that cryptic comment, he escaped.

"The cows?" I asked Will.

"I believe they keep livestock below, cows and chickens, anyway, so we have fresh milk and eggs."

I plunged my hands into the bowl of water Will had set on the desk and splashed some of it on my face. "Wonder where that stew came from."

Will cleared his throat. "If I had to guess, I'd say it was that gent who brought him to us in the first place."

Digging in my satchel, I pulled out a towel. "Wasn't a gentleman," I said through the fabric as I dried my face.

"So I heard."

"He's connected to Fr. Dominic somehow."

"Seems likely he'll be awake all night."

"Seems like." I folded the towel carefully. "It'll make the job of a thief more difficult."

"I'll dump this." Will grabbed the bowl and headed for the door. "Might not be as much of a problem if he was our ally."

"No." I turned away so he couldn't see my face. "We shouldn't court trouble."

He closed the door, leaving me alone with my memories of past mistakes.

Past mistakes? Calamities, more like it.

Randall had hinted that the priest might not be entirely human, but he can't have known he'd be traveling with a vampire.

And Will had suggested we make him our ally? That would be a step too far.

I flinched at the memory of another place, another undead creature.

And a friend who had not lived to see the day.

No, the only thing I'd do with this creature of the night would require a stake and a fistful of garlic, if any was to be found on this godforsaken tub.

Liar .

Shaking my head to clear away any wayward thoughts, I surveyed my domain. Two small rooms with no door between them. One desk, one chair, one bed. I'd lost track of time, and the young man's odor still hung in the air. Likely it clung to my sheets, as well.

"Damn it." I stretched my arms over my head, fighting the tension that threatened to tie me into knots. If I had an ounce of bravery, I'd go to the upper deck, where I could watch the water as we moved through it.

But I wasn't brave. Ten years ago, I'd learned a hard lesson about trifling with things I did not fully understand. I'd walked away from Randall and our petty thievery, and I'd worked damned hard to leave all of that behind.

Now the darkness threatened to engulf me again. I collapsed in the chair and put my head in my hands. I'd been an idiot to let him talk me into this, an idiot and a fool.

There was little chance I'd get through this unscathed. I could only hope no one else would die because of my foolishness.

To say the night passed with aching slowness would be no understatement. I remained conscious of every second until dawn. Only when light shone thin and cool through my room's small porthole did I dare relax into sleep. If there was a vampire about, then I would keep vampire's hours.

Of course, as the ship's doctor, I would be needed during the daylight hours, as well. Fortunately, I had rather a lot of practice at functioning without sleep, so after a rudimentary nap, I rose and made myself ready to see patients.

Almost immediately, I was called upon to see an elderly woman in first class. Her maid had found her in bed and had not been able to rouse her. I brought my kit, hoping that this was nothing serious or that her maid was prepared to be her nurse as well.

I was let into a room easily twice as large as my own, with a separate bedchamber attached to it and furnishings that could have come from a drawing room in London. The ladies' maid was an older woman, well acquainted with her mistress's ways. Though she remained calm and answered my questions succinctly, she twisted a handkerchief into tighter and tighter knots while we spoke.

Yes, Madame had seemed quite normal prior to going to bed.

Yes, Madame had eaten dinner in the dining salon with the other guests.

No, Madame hadn't exhibited any unusual behavior.

I finally put a hand on the maid's shoulder and asked if I could examine Madame. She brought me into the bedroom, where I immediately noticed an odd odor. It was quite similar to the sour funk given off by the vampire's victim. I approached the bed, my own heart beating rapidly.

Had he struck again so soon?

Madame Barbier was in her sixth decade. According to her maid, she and her husband had planned a trip down the Nile; however, he had died of apoplexy before they'd reached Cairo. Now a widow, Madame was returning to London, her husband's casket in the ship's hold.

The bedclothes were made of linen, and the woman's skin was nearly as pale. She wore a ruffled nightdress and a soft pink velvet bed jacket, her head wrapped in a rose satin turban. Both arms were on top of the covers, so after resting my hand on her forehead, I turned each of her wrists over, looking for puncture wounds.

There were none.

Her maid gasped when I took hold of Madame's chin and turned her head from one side to the other. No marks on her neck, either.

My heartbeat slowed, but not by much.

"Does she take any medications?" I turned my attention to the small bedside table. A half-empty glass of water sat next to a small bowl, also empty.

"No, Doctor. She didn't hold with most pills, though she sometimes took slippery elm for her bowels."

I nodded, my gaze sweeping over the stricken woman. Her face was symmetric, without the one-sided droop that might suggest a stroke. I took the stethoscope from my kit, a slender tube with a flange at one end. Setting the flange on her chest, I closed my eyes and bent to place my ear on the other end of the tube.

Madame's heart sounds were strong, though I noted some irregularity to the rhythm. Every dozen or so beats, one would come too quickly, then there'd be a pause before the next beat sounded. Not entirely unusual, especially in someone her age.

I moved on to her chest, which rose and fell steadily. Her lung sounds were clear and soft, with no rumbles or crackles that would suggest a pulmonary cause. I felt her hands. Her fingers were warm, the tips pink under her nails.

Taking a wooden tongue depressor from my kit, I gently opened her mouth. All appeared normal, with no lesions, swelling, or excessive dryness.

"Did you try smelling salts?" Also known as sol volatile, most women kept a small sponge soaked in a mix of ammonia and vinegar to revive them when they felt faint.

"No, sir. Madame said it made her ill."

I reached for my vial of sol volatile. "She's already ill. Let's see if this'll help." I held the vial under the woman's nose. She flinched but did not open her eyes. "All right. Did she make water last night?"

The maid pointed to the floor. "I emptied her chamber pot first thing this morning."

"Anything unusual there?"

"Not that I noticed." She gave her handkerchief another mighty twist. "I'm sorry, Doctor."

"You did nothing wrong." I tucked away the stethoscope and put a hand on her arm. "Madame is lucky to have someone who cares about her so much." Crossing my arms, I turned to face my patient, who stirred though she did not rouse completely. "Hmm."

On a hunch, I opened the vial of sol volatile and again waved it under her nose. This time she coughed and squeezed her eyes more tightly shut before settling into her somnolent state.

"Why don't you keep this for now." I handed the sol volatile to the maid. "Apply it every few minutes until she wakes. You might also dribble some weak tea into the corner of her mouth, a little at a time. I must return to my room now to see if there are any other patients, but I'll check on you in an hour or so to see if her condition has changed."

And if her condition hadn't changed? Well, we were far from land, so I'd have to make do, but if I found any more such enervated victims, I'd know who to blame.

On returning to my cabin, I had time to record notes about Madame Barbier's condition before my next patient arrived. After that, I saw a steady flow of people needing my services: a pair of twins from down the hall who'd both developed aggravating coughs, a crewman who'd opened a gash on his arm that required stitches, and a lovesick young man who apparently needed someone to listen to his woes more than any actual remedy, among others. To my great relief, Madame Barbier roused herself in time for lunch, and I sent her maid a note of thanks for the excellent care she'd provided.

Again Captain Thornton issued an invitation to join him at table, however this time I declined. I was not only exhausted, but I wanted a chance to examine the priest's rooms. I sent my last patient away, asked Will to bring me more water so I could clean up, then strapped a pair of stakes to a harness worn under my frock coat.

He returned before I'd donned my coat, and while he didn't remark on it directly, he surely saw the weapons.

"I take it you're not joining the captain's table?" Will stood near the door, hands held behind his back.

"Not tonight, no."

His answering nod might have held a touch of concern, though he possessed a level of opacity that I found difficult to penetrate.

"I don't suppose you could ask the cook for a sandwich or some bread and cheese?"

Again he nodded, but this time with more definite worry. "I thought I might accompany you on…well, wherever it is you're going."

He spoke bravely, and I had no doubt he meant it. I also had no intention of exposing him to more risk than absolutely necessary. "On this first foray, I prefer to go alone."

"But the—"

"Is not a threat to me." I patted the stakes. "I have faced such a creature before and learned from that instance."

"Randall—"

"My cousin should have warned me, but he chose not to." If I spoke harshly, Will did not seem to mind.

"I'm certain he did not anticipate such a creature."

I shrugged into my frock coat and paused, my hand on the top button. "How long have you worked for my cousin?"

Will tilted his head. "Two years in June."

"And has he been ill that whole time?"

"No." His gaze narrowed, a pointed look that tried to search out my accusation before I made it.

"I believe he has been, only now his symptoms are much harder to hide. Take care, Will Carrington. If Randall is still alive on your return to Alexandria, well, just keep your eyes open."

For a long moment, we simply stared at each other, until he shrugged and looked away. "I'll see if I can find you some supper for later, then."

"Thank you." There was more going on here than either of us were willing to admit. In fact, I was beginning to think those events of ten years ago were, in truth, coming back to haunt us.

"I'll take my meal in the smaller dining hall"—the servants' table—"and bring you any news. Shall we plan to meet here before bed?"

I smiled, touched by Will's unstated concern. "Certainly. I mean only to make a preliminary investigation. We'll meet here after dinner."

With that, we had nothing left to say. Will departed while I readied myself for my task. I carried a small set of lockpicks, my wooden stakes, and as much confidence as I could muster. The setting sun faded from my porthole window, and I tried to keep my attention on my plan rather than the reasons for my actions.

Because every time I remembered why I was here in the first place, I got angry again, and an angry man makes mistakes.

The bell for dinner rang while I was putting the finishing touches on my cravat. I waited until the sounds of footsteps in the hall faded, then let myself out of my room.

No one was about. Good. I swiftly took the stairs to the first-class level. A pair of young women, sisters by the look of them, were hurrying past the door to the stairs. My sudden appearance must have startled them because they scuttled off in a flurry of giggles and lace.

For a moment, I simply stood at the top of the stairs. To my right was a row of doors, and to my left was the open ocean. When no other latecomers appeared in the hall, I turned toward Fr. Dominic's rooms. To my surprise, his door was unlocked.

I pushed the door open as slowly as I dared, balancing the desire to get out of sight with the fear I'd walk right into the vampire since it was unlikely he'd have joined them for dinner. Still, I heard nothing but the soft shhh-ing rub of the door on the carpet.

Peering through the crack in the door as it slowly widened, I saw nothing of concern. A well-appointed stateroom, fashionable furnishings, no vampire. I came in and shut the door behind me.

Silence—or as close to silent as the rumbling steam engine ever came. The windows here were larger and looked out over glossy black nothing. There were comfortable chairs and a desk in one corner, with a few papers spread across it, along with a pen and inkwell. The room smelled of old incense and something bitter. I waited, giving any soul, living or undead, the chance to make himself known.

None did.

With that tacit permission, I began my search. I only intended to make a quick survey, identifying likely places the priest might hide the icon my cousin was after. If there was nothing obvious here, I'd focus my attentions on the luggage stored in the hold of the ship.

The bedroom was much smaller than the sitting room, with barely any space to walk between the bed and the armoire. Giving everything a cursory glance, it was only when I knelt that I noted a small leather case under the bed near the head. Perhaps this was my quarry. The case was locked, so I carried it into the main room, brought out my picks, and went to work.

As the lock clicked open, there was a momentary frisson of heat, as if magic had either cast or released a spell. I'd chosen a seat in one of the upholstered chairs, out of the line of sight from the door. I wasn't truly hiding. If anyone should enter, I'd be caught.

Betting—hoping?—they were all still at dinner, I opened the case. Several objects lay inside, among them a golden collar encrusted with jewels and a matching armband, one of the ubiquitous blue statuettes taken from some tomb or other, and, underneath those, something slim and small and wrapped in paper, the right size and shape to be the icon.

I set the collar aside and lifted the statuette in order to get a closer look at the parcel beneath.

My first clue that the vampire had returned was when his hand wrapped around mine.