Chapter Thirteen

New York

A package arrived from my lawyer. Inside were financial ledgers, journals, and letters. According to a neatly penned missive, the elderly Mr. Watt had recently passed away. Having no family of his own, the old man had left his entire share of the business to me, and the company name changed to Rudliff Land and Timber.

The company had grown considerably under the elder business owner’s previous tenure. Inside the journal, one of Mr. Watt’s last penned entries written during his recent visit to Washington State caught my eye.

“Lush and green and sitting between pristine forests of evergreen mountains to the North and East, the waters of Everett, Washington, are the perfect transport vehicle for lumber.”

I’d been mulling leaving New York ever since my shameful behavior that led me into Erin’s bedroom that pitiful night. With the business clearly marked for growth in the West and solely at my discretion now, it was clear I needed to make a decision.

But the idea of parting from Erin until she reached the attainable age of twenty-three invaded my thoughts by day and haunted my dreams at night.

Could I truly move farther away from her young spirit, even for a few years? After returning from The Blue Moon Lounge one evening, I hatched a plan.

I stood outside the Richland home, hoping Erin’s father would exit. Minutes turned into hours. Finally, the door opened. I tugged the brim of my hat over my brows and bent low, pretending I had just stopped in place to adjust my shoe.

A stout man wrangling a large leather satchel glanced over his shoulder and said, “Inform Mrs. Richland I won’t be home for dinner tonight.” Then the door promptly shut behind him.

I kept a respectable pace behind the man, allowing unwary pedestrians to fill the space between us. Finally, he walked into the building of The New York Herald.

The New York Herald, I mused.

One late afternoon the following week, I waited outside the newspaper building. Once Mr. Richland exited, I trailed him to a nearby pub. He sat with a handsomely dressed group of younger men. I ordered a beer and listened in on their conversation from a nearby table. Erin’s father knew his wife was ill. Consumption, I deduced, judging by his description, and he was genuinely unhappy living in New York.

Unhappy in New York. I downed my beer and wandered the streets for hours.

On the second evening, I shadowed the unsuspecting Mr. Richland to the very same pub. This time, I heard one of his friends ask him a poignant question.

“What is it you long for, Edward?” the younger man asked.

Edward paused for a moment, drank the rest of his foamy beer, and said, “I wish to be my own man.”

I wish to be my own man. Something in his words nagged me, haunted me. I leaned in, listening closely, shoving aside the dawning realization that his bleak feelings mirrored my own.

“I’ve wanted to leave here for so very long,” Edward said with a sigh. “Yes, I want to be my own newspaper man — maybe out West.”

Ideas flooded my mind so fast I couldn’t keep up. I purchased a large piece of land overlooking Port Gardner Bay in Everett, Washington. Soon thereafter, I sent Edward Richland an innocuous advertisement for property at an irresistible price that would make the perfect location for a new city newspaper.

Erin’s father had taken the bait. As I began the lengthy preparations for my move to Washington, the plan was suddenly derailed when I learned Edward’s wife had passed away in Washington and Erin had returned by herself to New York to attend school at Barnard College.

I watched Erin grow into a mirror image of my lovely Ersule. Each time I cast my gaze upon her sweet face, I died again and again.

When school was in session, I would watch her from a safe distance as she walked to and from college with her schoolbooks, often with young, fanciful women by her side. As time passed, young men with lust-filled eyes began escorting her, strolling arm-in-arm with my beloved.

One night while sitting with Gregore and Dominic at The Blue Moon, I couldn’t help but feel the two were keeping something from me.

Curious, I scanned their solemn faces and asked, “All right. What’s going on?”

Gregore gnawed on his bottom lip and stared at me for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he said, “I saw Erin today in the park.”

I was delighted to hear any news concerning her, but the trepidation within his soulful eyes gave me heed. “You did?”

“Tallon!” Dominic called, gesturing to the waiter for another round of blood cocktails.

Gregore flinched at the booming sound of Dominic’s voice. Looking directly at me he said, “Vamps. They’re so dramatic.”

“What’s going on?” I asked, suddenly aware of the unease between the two of them.

Gregore sighed and looked at Dominic. “You know I can’t keep such a thing from him.”

Dominic shrugged and took a big swig from the bottle of rum on the table.

“What?” I asked.

Tallon brought the round of cocktails on a silver tray and set them on the table. “Anything else, gentlemen?”

Gregore’s eyes stayed fixed upon mine. “I saw Erin in the park … with a man.”

Tallon froze in place, his eyes like bright orbs. “Uh oh.”

Dominic’s fangs protruded in a flash. “Leave!”

The waiter promptly scurried to the next table.

I smiled at the spectacle, though my heart missed a few beats. “Is that all? She’s a student, Gregore. Of course she has male friends.”

He slowly shook his head. “No. This was not the case, my King.”

“Ah, ah,” Dominic interjected said with a frown. “You forget, Gregore, there is no aristocracy at The Blue Moon. We are equal here. Never forget that.”

“Yes, yes. I’m sorry.” Gregore’s gaze snapped back to me. “This man was older. More mature. Something didn’t feel right, so I watched. They sat huddled together, his hand on hers. Then they kissed and rather passionately, I might add.”

I poured a hefty measure of rum into my chilled goblet. Silently, I took in what he had just revealed, all while the spiked blood cocktail bled into my veins like molten lava. “Well, I’m … I’m sure there’s an explanation.”

My mind raced. Up until now, it had never occurred to me I might have a true rival before Erin reached the ripe age of twenty-three.

“You see,” Gregore said to Dominic. “I told you he wouldn’t tear your lovely lounge to pieces.”

No, I wasn’t going to tear The Blue Moon into pieces, but I sure as hell felt like I could the way my blood suddenly heated as though ready to boil.

I raised my chin. “Tell me. What else did you see?”

Gregore leaned in. “I watched for a time. They parted ways after an intimate embrace.”

The Caribbean-style band began to play, and Gregore’s face instantly lit up. “Oh, let’s dance,” he said to Dominic.

I sighed heavily, brooding over my cocktail, contemplating my next move as the two headed for the crowded dance floor.

* * * *

I went to Barnard College and stated I wished to grant the institution a sizeable donation. An hour into the tour of the school, I saw Erin sitting in the front row of a classroom, writing feverishly on paper as the professor spoke. Later in the day, I sat outside, waiting for her to leave.

Erin exited the building wearing an eager smile, her glossy hair pulled back. The indulgent wind loosened her tidy chignon, sending tendrils wisping across her ivory neck.

My breath hitched. How I longed to press my nose against that lovely throat and breathe in her heavenly scent.

I followed a safe distance behind as she strode in a different direction than usual. She entered an apartment building, and I was left outside wondering with whom she might be visiting.

Two cigars later, she exited with the handsome professor I had seen standing in front of her in the classroom earlier. I tugged the brim of my hat over my brow and yanked up my frock collar.

The pair walked past me, laughing and looking adoringly at one another. My heart sank at the sight of her gleaming eyes and rosy cheeks filled with enthusiasm. I froze, unable to follow them, but I needed not, for they ducked into a hotel a half-block north.

I placed one numb foot in front of the other and made my way to the three-story hotel entrance.

My God. I could only imagine one reason the two of them would enter a hotel together.

I entered the revolving glass door, my heart hammering like thunder. After picking up the newspaper sitting on the entry table, I took a seat in the lobby.

“Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson,” said the hotelier to the couple. “Nice to see you again.”

Again? I peered above the opened newspaper I held between stiffening fingers.

The doughy man behind the counter extended a key. “Room 112.”

Erin offered the man a modest nod, a rosy hue flushing her cheeks.

Once the two left, I approached the gentleman at the counter and asked for a room on the first floor.

He ran his rotund fingers down the ledger. “All I have left on the first floor are rooms 102, 105, and 111.”

My heart jumped. Naturally, I accepted room 111.

Not wishing to be seen by the couple, I waited another ten minutes before venturing toward my assigned room. Once inside, I paced the floor, unable to get a grip upon my bounding pulse. Finally, I sat in the chair next to the bed and listened.

Nothing.

I shook my head violently and shot up from the chair. What the hell am I doing?

I marched to the door and grabbed the brass doorknob. Just then, muffled voices and laughter, coming from behind the wall, filled the silence.

My stomach twisted, and bile slowly rose in my throat as the noise gave way to obvious sounds of lovemaking.

My hands turned to clenched fists. I stepped backwards and sat on the bed. Mere inches separated me from the two lovers behind the thin wall. I froze, listening to their jagged breaths and moans of desire. I closed my eyes, hearing her hastened breathing as visions of Ersule lying beneath me years ago imprinted upon my eyelids.

Willing my fists to open, I placed my hand against the wall. I could smell Ersule’s freshly washed hair smelling of sweet rose, could feel her soft flesh under my once callused hands, could hear her soft whimpers of desire as I plunged her sweet depths.

I opened my eyes. Staying in this room any longer would only lead me to madness.

With my heart so heavy I could barely move my feet, I left the hotel to find solace among my kind at The Blue Moon Lounge.

The following day, I inquired about the professor. Evidently, while the handsome young professor was bedding my beloved, he was married with three young children in tow. My anger swelled into blinding rage. And for the first time in more than three hundred years, I gazed at the darkening sky above, impatient, vengeful, and eager for the kill.