‘It was just a bad dream,’ I said, as slowly his focus came back to me. ‘Everything is fine – there is nothing to worry about.’ I eased him back down and tucked his sheet around him. ‘Now, go back to sleep.’ He didn’t speak a word and I wondered if he had really woken at all. His eyes closed, and after a moment his breathing steadied and I went back to my own bed where I lay awake until breakfast, my imagination forcing images of Juliana and Edward Kane into my head that I had no desire to see.
The nightmares came the next night, and the night after, and on the third, by which time I was exhausted as much by
my broken sleep as by the expectation of being woken. This time I lit the lamp in his room and shook him gently until he was fully awake. Once again his skin was clammy and his nightshirt damp.
‘What is it, James?’ I asked. ‘What is bothering you? What do you dream?’ My own skin had started to burn slightly in the night and I knew that soon I would feel the first touch of the fever that came with my peculiar infection. I needed my strength, and for that I needed a decent night’s sleep. ‘Your mother will be home in a few days. There is nothing to worry about.’
He stared at me for a moment. ‘I was in the river,’ he said, eventually. ‘All tied up.’
My heart froze and I pulled my hand away from his. Suddenly I saw every echo of his father in his young face. ‘It was just a dream,’ I repeated. ‘You are safe in bed, James, in your own home.’
‘I … I …’ he started to say, his bottom lip trembling, ‘I
saw
something.’
‘Don’t be silly.’ My mouth had dried. What was this? What could he possibly have seen? ‘It was just a dream.’ I stood up, no longer wanting to be near him, as if he were the
Upir
itself detached from me and taken human form.
‘But I—’
I tried to calm myself. I was being ridiculous. There could be nothing sinister in young James’ dreams; this was simply a memory playing out in a dream.
‘You fell into the river, not so long ago,’ I said, ‘you remember? When you tumbled from the rowing boat? I imagine that is what this nightmare is about.’ My heart rate was returning to normal; of course that was what this was about. I had to
stop seeing suspicion everywhere. What could young James know about my deeds, after all? Nothing. I might not be able to bring myself to love him as I should, but that did not mean he somehow knew of my secret life. And yet still I trembled. It was the words he had used:
I
saw
something
. It had made me think of Kosminski and his strange visions.
He shook his head, as if trying to clear it. ‘I
saw
something,’ he repeated plaintively, almost as if he knew how much the phrase disturbed me, although of course he could not possibly know that.
‘Go to sleep,’ I said, firmly, turning the light out. ‘You are too old for this kind of childish fear.’ Cowed by the sharp tone in my voice he curled back up under the covers, but his face was still full of woe.
‘Dead girls in the river.’
He spoke so quietly that I almost missed his words, but they drifted across the room and snared my attention.
Dead girls?
Was that some kind of threat? Had he seen me in his dream? I stared at him from the dark doorway. ‘Go to sleep,’ I snapped, barely able to draw breath.
I closed the door and then almost fell against the wall. I clutched the doorjamb and let out a juddering sigh before summoning the strength to get back to my room. The house felt claustrophobic and I craved the sanctuary of my own home, even with all its dark secrets.
I stared into the mirror, my reflection shades of blue and black in the gloom. Patches had appeared on my cheeks and my skin was hot. Fear made the
Upir
hungry, and if I was to make some attempt to save my soul I could not leave it much longer before I found a villainess for the part.
The next night when he screamed himself awake I pretended not to hear. I remained in my room and stared at the ceiling until the sobbing finally stopped.
*
It was a relief when Juliana and Kane returned two days later. They were flushed with happiness and health and breezed into the house full of energy and vitality and clearly entirely in love with each other. It was a sharp contrast to the depressing atmosphere that had hung over the house since James’ nightmares had started, but they appeared not to notice. James ran to his mother, then Kane swung him up onto his shoulders and for the first time in two weeks the boy laughed aloud.
‘Has all been well?’ Juliana asked as she kissed me chastely on the cheek and thanked me for all I had done. Her eyes were kind, but I saw pity in them, I was certain. How could she even respect me after the apparent ease with which I had accepted her marriage to another?
‘Yes, of course,’ I said. ‘We have got along fine, haven’t we, young man? But now I really must get back to my own home and leave you to unpack and settle back in.’
‘Stay for dinner!’ Kane exclaimed. ‘There’s no need to rush off.’ He grinned, the easy smile of the victor, and I gritted my teeth as I returned it but shook my head. ‘Sadly I cannot,’ I said. ‘I really do have work waiting for me.’
‘Then you must come for dinner soon,’ Juliana said. ‘You really are the kindest friend I have, Thomas. There is no one else I would have trusted with James.’ She looked at her son. ‘James, come and say thank you and goodbye to Uncle Thomas. He has to go home.’
The boy dutifully came over and I crouched and let him hug
me. He squeezed me tightly – almost too tightly. Was there menace in it? What did he know? What had he seen?
‘Goodbye, James,’ I said, breaking free and forcing myself to ruffle his blond hair. ‘I shall see you again soon.’
‘Good bye, Uncle Thomas.’ His voice was soft and he half-smiled at me, as if we shared a secret. Suddenly those blue eyes no longer looked so innocent, and even though the house was warm, I shivered. Harrington had been infected when James was conceived; it was not unreasonable to think that perhaps something of the
Upir
had transferred to his unborn child. Had James been threatening me, or was it that he could somehow see in his dreams the dark deeds I had been forced to do? Did he even understand what he was seeing? Or – a dreadful thought! – was there another
Upir
, an awful procreation of the one attached to me, growing inside him? Would he become a monster too?
Whichever was the truth, I could not stand to be around him.
And now I could really feel my fever growing.
It was nearly midnight when the heavy knock at the front door disturbed my preparations. The packages had been wrapped and were now in the kitchen, packed into the two small valises I had bought especially to carry them. Even though it was well into the night, the heat of the day lingered in the house and I was sweating from my exertions, carrying the parcels up from the cellar. I was not tired – I could still feel the immediate invigoration that came after feeding the
Upir
– but I was looking forward to getting the last of it – of
her
– despatched into the river. Once George’s man had taken me out onto the river for the second night all traces of her would be gone from the house, and until the next time I could padlock the cellar door and pretend nothing had ever happened.
My heart raced as the knocker went again, loud and insistent. I hesitated in the hallway, not knowing what to do. Whoever it was, he was keen to see me – but I needed to leave shortly if I was to make my rendezvous with George on the riverbank. But if I were to leave and whoever it was knocking so insistently was still waiting outside, that would look highly suspicious – how ever would I explain the valises, let alone my sudden need to leave my house so late at night. I had no choice. I had to let whoever it was in.
‘Thomas,’ Walter Andrews said as he stepped in to the hall. ‘You are still up. I thought you must be asleep.’
‘I am not long in from a dinner engagement.’ I did not move too far back, keeping him close to the door, not wanting to encourage him to linger. I itched to be rid of him – of all people, I did not want a retired detective in my house. I knew only too well how keen an observer of people and detail Walter Andrews was. ‘But what brings you here so late?’
‘We have all sent messages to you.’ He was agitated, almost irritated, and that in turn irritated me.
I glanced at the table by the door and saw three envelopes on the plate there, which came as a surprise to me. When had they arrived? Now that I no longer had Mrs Parks in my service I must have put them there. I must have picked them up from the floor when I got home and placed them on the salver – but I had no recollection of it.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, ‘I have been busy – what on earth is the matter?’
‘It’s young James – he has a terrible fever. The local physician has seen him, but Juliana is insisting on your care.’ His brow furrowed. ‘We are all being very positive, but I must be honest with you, my friend, he does not look at all well.’
A fever
. My stomach churned. A fever like mine, perhaps? ‘Has the physician seen him this evening?’
‘Yes, and he has given him something to help the lad sleep, but he is almost continually coughing, and his skin is burning very badly. Juliana is beside herself.’
‘I shall go first thing in the morning,’ I said. From the corner of my eye I could see a thumbprint of red on one of the envelopes I had chosen to ignore, either whilst in the grip of the parasite, or in the midst of the awful task in the cellar, or in the laudanum and brandy haze afterwards. I moved slightly and leaned against the table, blocking it from view. ‘There is
little point in going now: the boy should be sleeping and so should Juliana. But I will be there by breakfast time.’
Andrews nodded, and I could see his disappointment – but what exactly did he expect me to do? Drop everything and run to the side of the woman who had chosen another over me? Juliana was Edward Kane’s responsibility now.
My bitterness surprised me. I had thought myself a better man than that. What the
Upir
made me do was one thing – I did not consider that any part of who I was. I was a good man, one who had always held reason and dignity over emotion. But it would appear that over the years I had forgotten the power that love had to twist into something dark inside.
‘I am sure she will be grateful to see you whenever you can get there,’ Andrews said, a snip of reproach in his voice. ‘You are the only one she trusts, Thomas.’
I felt a pang of something close to guilt at that. I should leave immediately and go to the boy, but I could not, for I had dark deeds to finish. There were men waiting for me, and they would not be happy if I missed our meeting.
‘First thing,’ I said. ‘I promise, the boy will be fine until then, Walter. Waking him at this hour will likely do more harm than good.’
We said our awkward farewells and then I ushered him out of the house. I turned the lights down to create the impression I was going straight to bed, in case he was studying my house from the street, and then I waited. After a while I went to my study window and looked down at the pavement outside, but even though I could see no sign of him, still, I left it as long as possible before I dragged my laden valises out into the night and headed once more for the river, trying to think of anything except the butchered contents.
She had been a wicked woman, of that I had no doubt. I had studied her for nights, watching her steal and lie and beat another unfortunate woman until she had handed over her meagre earnings. I was no monster. I did not consider the life of an unfortunate, someone who had fallen into despair, to be in itself a crime, and I did not believe that any woman would choose that life for herself if it were not out of dire necessity. And I would not feed the
Upir
from those whom life had forced into such lowness – I would not become like Harrington or Hebbert. I did what I must to protect the innocent from the creature on my back that drove the bloodlust, and I considered the easy prey of prostitutes to be as innocent as any other. I had vowed to kill only the criminal, and I would be firm on that front. Still, I did not like to think how the aftertaste of my activities, that metallic tang on my tongue that no longer made me retch, or that perhaps I crammed the soft parts into my mouth with occasional relish. That was not me. That was
it
. I refused to believe otherwise.
I thought of James and his fever. I thought of his father and what he had done. The idea that the
Upir
might have left its seed with Harrington’s inside Juliana plagued me. Her pregnancy had been terrible and the labour had almost killed her. Could that have been because of the unnatural monstrosity growing inside her?
The river had never felt more filled with secrets than it did that night.
He hated seeing Juliana like this. Neither of them had slept properly for days, and when at last she did drift off from exhaustion he would hear her crying in her sleep, calling out for James. Sometimes the James she shouted for was her dead husband, and sometimes her terribly sick child. No doubt memories of the former were haunting her because of her fear of death of the latter. Edward was not jealous; he knew that whatever love she had had for her first husband was nothing compared to what she felt for him – but he felt so damned helpless. There was nothing he could do to ease her suffering. He would not insult her with platitudes, not when it was so clear the boy was gravely ill. Although it hurt him to see it – he had grown genuinely fond of the child – he knew the worry he felt was nothing compared with what his wife was suffering.
Despite the beautiful spring weather outside, a pall hung over the house in Barnes. Although he had never considered himself a superstitious man, Edward Kane could not stop thinking of it as a visitation of death, as if the Grim Reaper himself had come to call but was not yet sure if he was staying. Even with the windows open wide to allow a healthy warm breeze, the air was greasy with the foreboding of death.