8. Charleston, South Carolina

EIGHT

charleston, south carolina

MODERN DAY

The smell of humans permeates my nose, making me hungry. I haven't eaten for the past two weeks, partly on purpose and partly because of guilt. Walking through the city market is not the smartest activity for a hungry vampire, especially during tourist season. This is the third day I've been here. Being able to resist the urge to eat gives me hope in a future where I'm not a killer. However today, the sheer amount of people crammed into the narrow building is nearly overwhelming to my desires.

A woman who appears no older than me bumps into me, nearly knocking herself over in the process. "Excuse me," she says, turning toward me.

"No worries," I smile, making eye contact with her.

The smile on her face fades as something inside her sends a silent warning. Not every human can sense the danger I represent, but this woman does. She turns quickly, moving in the opposite direction.

I continue walking, sliding gracefully between the visitors. I watch as mothers and fathers push strollers of exhausted children through the crowded market. This is just the sort of place tourists flock to. Overpriced items imported from other countries, stamped with Charleston insignias, always draw a crowd.

The smell of sulfur catches my nose, bringing me to a stop in the middle of a crowd. The humans continue moving around me, giving me wide berth, no doubt sensing my energy.

Sulfur is one of those smells that triggers memories I would rather forget. A past I'd rather not think about. Especially here, surrounded by humans.

I find myself looking around, halfway expecting to see him. Where Kragen went, the smell of sulfur accompanied. I scour the area, searching for any sign of the man, hell, the creature, I've spent the past two hundred years hiding from.

I've stayed one step ahead of him since escaping. As horrible as it was, I have to give him credit. It was Kragen who turned me into the creature I am today, nothing more than a nightmare incarnate.

I continue walking, leaving the city market, and making my way closer to the water's edge. Sunset is my favorite time, and exploring the city I was headed toward all those years ago is something I've wanted to do since escaping…although, if I'm honest, I have other motives.

Charles Town, or Charleston as it's called now, would've been the first place Kragen looked after I left. It's the reason I've waited two hundred years to visit. The Charles Town I was bound for would've looked nothing like the tourist trap it is today. I try to picture Mama and my siblings exiting the ship into the town that would be their new home.

Memories of my brother Charles flood my mind, bringing the sadness that always accompanies his memory. He died never seeing his new home. He died, never understanding what happened to him. Maybe that was a blessing.

Standing on the battery, I lift my arms, allowing the wind to blow through the silky sleeves of my shirt. Sea water brings memories of home. "Be careful. I'd hate to have to save you," a voice says from behind. I turn, finding the source. A man a few inches taller than me has his hands shoved deep into his pockets and a wistful look on his face.

"I'm fine, thank you," I answer, returning to my view.

"Michael," the man says.

I turn back. "Excuse me?"

"Michael. That's my name."

"Oh." I laugh. "I thought you were confused for a moment. "

"Ha! No. Just introducing myself." He moves to my side. "What are you looking at?"

"The wind," I answer, not sure I'm up for company.

He looks in my direction. "That would've been my first guess. Are you here with family?"

"Do you always ask random strangers so many questions, Michael?"

He shuffles back and forth. "I do, sorry." He shoves his hands back into his pockets. "My friends all got wasted and fell asleep at the hotel. I was bored and came for a walk." I don't respond, hoping to discourage his conversation. "Where are you from?"

I sigh before answering. Occasionally, humans are attracted to the energy of a vampire. Attracted to the danger they sense in me. "Scotland."

His eyes open wide. "I thought I heard a slight accent. I've always wanted to visit." He shuffles once more. "What brings you to Charleston?"

"I was hungry," I answer, hoping he'll lose interest.

He runs a hand through dark hair. "I was just about to grab something to eat. Would you like to join me?"

The insatiable thirst deep inside rumbles at his words. "Just the two of us?"

"Aye." He smiles with his word. "That is what they say, isn't it?"

"Aye, it is." I move closer toward him. As hungry as I am, I don't want to hurt this man. I don't want to hurt anyone ever again. I look into his eyes, focusing on the dark pupil in the middle. "Michael, you need to leave me alone. I am not who or what you think I am."

"Who are you," he whispers.

"I am death. Go, before you are my next victim."

Michael's eyes come back into focus. "I need to leave." His voice is monotone and robotic.

I turn, facing the sea and giving him time to return to reality. "Hey, listen," he stumbles. "I'm going to go." He backs away slowly, never taking his eyes off me. "It was really nice meeting you."

I don't respond as he leaves me alone on the river's edge. In the two hundred years I've been on the run, I learned many things. Compulsion was just one of them.

I turn, heading through the crowds and the city streets to the home I've rented during my time here. The rental listing advertised the home as a "vampire home," banking on the history of vampires in the city. Whatever their reason, it was enough to convince me to bite. I laugh at the irony of my thoughts.

The house is four stories high and narrow. Most of the older colonial-style homes fit the same mold: tall and narrow, with each floor hosting its own piazza. To be honest, I don't know why I chose such a large home to live in alone. Six bedrooms are much more than necessary for one person, especially for someone who doesn't sleep. I make my way to the third-level piazza and sit, overlooking the Ashley River a few blocks away.

Thoughts of my mother, raising my siblings alone in a new country, overwhelm me. She was the strongest woman I ever met. I can't imagine how she survived.

Through the research I've done, I learned that after arriving in Charles Town, Mama worked tirelessly to support her family, never remarrying. Through the years, I've been able to find information on all of my siblings except Bertram and the baby. I'd like to think he survived, but I'll never know. There are records of Bertram arriving in Charles Town, but nothing about his life afterward. Over the years, I gave up, assuming he moved away or changed his name.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here, Mama," I whisper, remembering the day I was taken. Over the years since, I've avoided thinking too much about that day. The memories only bring pain. The phone shoved into my pocket vibrates, bringing me back to the present and away from my haunting past. On the screen is an address. One that I've been waiting all week to receive.

417 East Bay Street

"417 East Bay Street," I repeat the address out loud the private detective I hired sent out loud. Butterflies take flight in my stomach. A quick search on my phone tells me the address is less than three blocks away. "It's now or never, Elsie." I don't waste time walking. Leaping from the piazza, I'm in front of the Colonial Style home in less than a minute.

Chill bumps cover my skin at the thought of who once owned this home. The man I've thought about for three hundred years.

The thick nautical rope-shaped woodwork surrounding the door shows that the people who built this home earned their money from the sea. This has to be it. I take a deep breath, moving up the walkway toward the narrow front porch.

"Hello?" a soft voice says from a chair in the corner. "This house isn't on the tour, sweetie."

"I'm not looking for a tour," I answer.

The woman stands, giving me a full glimpse of someone who looks to be in their late seventies. Her shoulders are slumped slightly, and glimpses of once dark hair peek through a head full of perfectly styled white curls. "If you're here looking for a room to rent, I don't have anything available at the moment."

I fight the urge to help the elderly woman walk. "You rent rooms?"

"Aye," she answers, giving me a slight hint of a familiar accent.

"Do you know when you might have one available?"

"Hmm. Tomorrow, I think. The couple in the honeymoon suite are leaving in the morning."

"I'll take it," I interrupt.

She smiles widely. "You want the honeymoon suite? Will your husband be joining you?"

"I'm not married. I'm more interested in the history of the home. The honeymoon suite is a bonus. "

She works her way toward the door. "Francis Hawthorne," she says, holding her hand toward me.

My heart, or what's left of it, skips a beat at her name. "Elsie Abernathy. What time should I check in tomorrow?"

She sighs before answering. "Well, checkout is at eleven. I'm sure it'll take me a few hours to get the room back in shape. How does three o'clock sound?"

"It sounds perfect. Thank you."

"How long will you be staying?" she asks.

Turning back toward the heavy front door, I run my hand over the carved woodwork. "I'm not sure."

"The room is two hundred dollars a night during this time of year. I'm sorry to charge that much for a single young woman like yourself."

"It's not a problem," I interrupt. "I understand." I turn my attention back to the woodwork. "This is beautiful. Is it original to the house?"

"Aye, it is. My grandfather several generations back made his fortune on the sea. He used that money to build this house. It's been in our family for nearly three hundred years. Renting out the rooms is the only way I can afford the upkeep on it now."

"It's beautiful," I whisper.

"Thank you." She turns, heading through the heavy door. "Tomorrow, then?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'll be here at three o'clock." I turn, leaving the woman on her doorstep, and move toward the busy street .

In the time I've been a vampire, I've never forgotten the man who won my heart all those years ago. The man who I barely knew yet was willing to risk his life to save me.

Sadness fills me. It always does when his memory comes to mind. It's the main reason I've waited this long to discover his legacy. Over the years, I've searched randomly, never finding any substantial information. For the most part, any record of Captain Hawthorne Rex stopped not long after Kragen took me.

It doesn't take long to pack the meager belongings I traveled here with. I don't bring much with me when I travel. It makes it easier to leave quickly should the need arise.

Three o'clock comes much too slowly as I patiently wait on the bottom floor piazza. I watch as unsuspecting tourists pass the rental home, exploring the rich history of the city. The majority of them have no idea of the creatures that lurk in the darkness. Creatures like me. I could kill hundreds of them within seconds. A wet tear streams down my cheek at the thoughts filling my mind. Dark thoughts. Evil thoughts.

You're not that woman anymore , I remind myself. You did what you had to do to survive. The clock tower, several blocks away, chimes on the hour, letting me know it is exactly three. The time Ms. Hawthorne said the room would be ready. I stand, take a deep breath, and head toward the home.

I focus on moving at the same speed as the humans surrounding me and blending in with the crowd. Five minutes later, I knock on the heavy wooden door.

The older woman opens the door, wearing a wide smile. "You did come back. I wasn't sure you would."

"Of course, I did. I can't wait to study the history of your home."

She steps away from the door, giving me room to enter. "I don't know how much history I can share that's not in the books, but I'll give it a try. I don't get much company other than guests. It'll be nice to have someone to talk to." She walks toward a small desk in the foyer. "Let's get you checked in."

I follow her, setting my small bag on the ground at my feet. Inside, the home is just what I imagined it to be. Pictures of ships, new and old, line the navy blue walls of the deep foyer. "This is beautiful."

"Thank you," she smiles, following my line of sight. "Most of the pictures are ships that members of my family have sailed throughout the years."

My eyes are drawn to a familiar-looking vessel. Instead of a photograph, it's a sketch of the ship that Thorne commanded—the ship where I was taken.

"What about this one?" I point to the picture.

"Hmm?" she sets down the paper she was holding and moves to my side. "Oh, that is the ship that started it all. It belonged to the man who built this house. Captain Rex."

I found him. I focus on keeping the energy buzzing through my body still. "Captain Rex? What happened to him?"

"That's a good question," she answers. "Records show he made several trips between here and Scotland when he was very young. He married a young woman from Charles Town, my great-great-great-grandmother, built a small fortune, and had a son. After that, no one knows."

"What do you mean?"

Ms. Francis shrugs. "He went to sea one day and never returned."

"Was the ship sunk?"

"No, that's the strange part. He disappeared in the middle of the night. When the ship returned to port, he was never seen or heard from again. Most people speculated that he fell overboard or possibly jumped." My heart jumps into my throat at the thought of Thorne disappearing.

"That's horrible."

She takes a deep breath. "I imagine it was." She turns back toward the desk. "Now, let's get you checked in."

I spend the next few minutes sharing all of my information, or at least the information that I'm willing to share and get checked into Thorne's home.

Following the woman up the stairs, we pass photo after photo of different ships. "Here we are," she says, opening a door off the main hallway. Inside, I'm surprised at how lavishly the room is decorated. The four-poster bed looks antique, making me wonder if it's original to the home. Green velvet bedding covers the top, giving it a warm feeling. Wide plank boards cover the floor and are home to a thick rug that matches the bedding.

"Speaking of Captain Rex, this was the room he used when he lived here."

My heart stops. "Really? This very room?"

"Yes." She moves toward the headboard of the old bed, rubbing the wood gently. "This is the same bed he slept in. Not the same mattress, of course." She laughs at her words.

She moves toward an ancient wardrobe. "This is original to the room, along with that washstand." She points to a small table, holding an antique water basin. "There are quite a lot of items throughout the home that are original. Over the years, many things have broken or been destroyed. This room seems to hold the most."

"Thank you, Ms. Hawthorne."

"Call me Francis, please."

"Thank you, Francis."

She works her way toward the door. "Dinner will be served promptly at six o'clock. If you will not be eating, I ask that you tell me so that I don't overcook. Other than that, I'll leave you be." I watch the elderly woman close the door behind her and fight the tears that threaten to fall.

After all these years, I've found him. I finally found him.