Now Comes the Mist

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

A soft knock sounds on my bedroom door. “Is she still asleep?” my mother whispers.

“Yes,” Mina whispers back. “She hasn’t moved an inch.”

Slippered feet pad over to me, and a soft hand touches my forehead. “She doesn’t feel feverish, but it was wise of you to cover her well,” my mother murmurs to Mina. “Who knows what sort of chill she might have caught last night, wandering around in that storm?”

I breathe as evenly as I can, pretending to be asleep. To awaken to their fussing would mean fully returning to reality and leaving the frightening, puzzling, enthralling dream of the lightning-ripped seas, the rain, and the man’s lips on my neck. Vlad’s lips.

“She was soaked to the bone,” Mina says in a low voice. “It was my fault, Mrs. Westenra. I should have heard her leave, but I was so tired. To think I could have prevented this—”

“Nonsense. It isn’t your fault,” my mother reassures her. “No one else heard her go, either. At least she got back safely without any injuries.”

“Not a scratch. Though Harriet and I did see a little bruise last night when we put dry clothing on her. Just there, on the side of her neck.”

A bruise, where he had kissed me. I almost stir in my surprise but manage to remain still as Mamma lifts my hair away from my jaw. “Yes, I see it. Nothing serious, thank goodness,” she says, and the bed shifts as she sits down beside me. “Lucy? Wake up, dear.”

I open my eyes and yawn. “Good morning. Are you already dressed to pay calls?”

“Good afternoon , you mean,” Mamma says, touching my forehead again. “You slept the whole morning away. How do you feel? Any aches or shivers?”

I sit up against my lace-edged pillows. “I feel wonderful. I slept like a stone. I’m sorry to have worried you so last night, Mina,” I add, holding my hand out to her.

“Harriet and I feared you had fallen into the sea,” Mina says. “You were dripping water all over the rug and shivering dreadfully. When on earth did you slip out of bed?”

“I’m afraid that’s rather the nature of sleepwalking, darling. I can’t remember a thing.”

“Well, we will put an end to that,” Mamma says as my maid enters the room. “Harriet went into town just now and says there are wild dogs running about. Isn’t that so?”

The maid sets down a tray of tea and my favorite strawberry pastries. “Yes, madam. A ship came into harbor late last night, and people are saying that an enormous dog, or perhaps a wolf, jumped off and ran through town. Everyone is still quite nervous about it.”

“A ship? In this weather?” I ask as innocently as if I hadn’t witnessed its arrival myself.

“Yes, miss. I expect it will be all over the papers today,” Harriet says, her face drawn and frightened. “Such terrible things as I heard in town. I’m sure I shall have nightmares from what the men were saying. They found none alive on board. Just thirty boxes full of earth.”

“Boxes full of earth?” Mina repeats, exchanging glances with me. “Strange cargo.”

My mother shakes her head. “What a needless tragedy! I wonder at the captain’s decision to sail in such a storm. He might have waited safely elsewhere for a day or two.”

“There was no one on board?” I ask, frowning.

“Only two people, miss, both of them dead. The captain and one sailor. People were saying that such a large vessel must have left port with a sizable crew, and yet only these two men were found. What became of all the others, no one can guess,” Harriet says miserably, and my mother covers her mouth in horror and Mina crosses herself, whispering a prayer. “But I heard someone say that something had drained these two bodies of all their blood. That beastly dog that got away, perhaps.”

I hold my breath as I listen, every nerve in my body tingling with apprehension.

Mina sinks into a chair, her eyes wet. “Those poor men. They must have wives waiting for their return,” she says, her face white as a sheet. She brings her engagement ring to her lips.

“The captain was dead?” I demand. “How did he steer the vessel into harbor?”

“No one knows, miss,” Harriet says. “They found his body lashed to the ship’s wheel with rope, as though trying not to go overboard in the storm. Oh, it’s too awful!”

“That’s enough,” Mamma says, glancing at me. “I don’t want Miss Lucy upset any more than she already is. Return to your duties and try not to think about all this.”

“I’ll try, madam,” Harriet says, though the doubt is plain on her face. At the door, she turns and looks back at me with pleading eyes. “Miss Lucy, please let me lock your bedroom door tonight. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you!”

“I’m to be shut up like a prisoner, then?” I ask, though I am touched by her concern.

“It is a sensible suggestion,” Mina says gently. “You should not be walking around at night, unconscious, when there is a dog or … or worse, lying in wait.”

My mother nods. “I agree. But,” she adds, seeing the look on my face, “perhaps we need not resort to such measures yet, if you would stay with Lucy for a few more nights, Mina.”

“Of course.” Mina closes her eyes, shuddering. “A dark ship coming into harbor at night, carrying the dead. It is such an evil, evil omen, and I fear for us all.”

“Wait, Harriet,” I call. “Did you hear anything else about the ship? Perhaps its name?”

The maid nods. “It was a Russian vessel out of Bulgaria, they said. The Demeter .”

A shocking cold spreads over me. If I had any belief left that my nightly visits with my strange friend were merely the visions of a troubled sleeper, then this has destroyed it for good. It is impossible that I could have dreamed such a ship ever existed, let alone predicted where it would sail from or that it would disembark here in Whitby. Everything that passed between Vlad and me this summer—every word, every look, and every kiss—really and truly happened.

Mina is studying me. “Are you all right, Lucy?”

“She needs food,” my mother says. She stands up and glances out the window at the brightening sky. “And perhaps some fresh air. Now that the storm has passed, won’t you both come to town with me to post a few letters? It would do you good.”

Mina looks reluctant, but I am desperate for news of the Demeter … or of Vlad. “We’ll meet you downstairs,” I say, and my mother nods and leaves the room.

“Are you quite well?” Mina asks again when we are alone. “When Harriet told you the name of the ship, you looked as though you might faint.”

“A good thing I’m still in bed, then,” I say, taking a large bite of pastry to keep from having to say more. But Mina gives me her best stern governess look, and I brush the crumbs off my coverlet, wondering how I could possibly explain to her. She would not believe me, my Mina of the methodical brain. She would not accept that I had met a man in my dreams and had learned of his ship’s arrival before it had even happened. “I can’t tell you. Not yet.”

“This ship means something to you,” she persists. “This Demeter .”

The name is disturbing coming from her lips, as though she has spoken aloud my private dream. “Please, Mina, not now,” I say, and I must look so distressed that she sighs and gives up.

Within the hour, we are walking into town with Mamma. The grey sky is clearing, the ocean is calmer, and the air smells clean and new. There are people everywhere, flitting into shops or gathering in the streets to gossip about the Demeter ’s macabre arrival.

“Come along,” Mamma says, hurrying us away from them. “Here is the post office.”

“Might Mina and I wait outside? There’s such a crowd in there, and I prefer the fresh air,” I say, and my mother agrees. Mina and I stand like obedient children by the door, surveying the cobblestone street. It is tidy and picturesque, with pots of flowers and little iron tables and chairs full of people on holiday, some of them chattering in foreign languages. Through the sound of steady conversation and laughter is the tinkle of bells as customers go in and out of the shops. Suddenly, I hear children shouting as a tiny white dog, no bigger than my two hands placed side by side, scampers mischievously through the crowd, tongue lolling and tail wagging.

Mina laughs. “Oh, no, I think he’s making his escape.”

“And here come his jailers,” I observe.

A boy and two girls, all under the age of ten, are chasing after the dog. They have short plump legs, well-made clothes, and almost identical faces, with round brown eyes and dimpled cheeks. There is something eerie and uncomfortable about watching them, as though my vision has been distorted and I am somehow seeing three versions of only one child.

To my consternation, the impossibly small dog runs over to us and begins pawing and sniffing at my skirts. I step back in disgust, pressing against the outside wall of the post office, but Mina laughs again and actually scoops the wriggling animal into her arms.

“What a delightful little thing you are,” she coos, rubbing its floppy ears. She smiles at the children, who have stopped in front of us. “Hello there. Is this adorable runaway yours?”

“He is, indeed, miss,” says the older girl solemnly. “His name is Biscuit.”

“What a nice name,” Mina says kindly. “Which one of you thought of it?”

“I did,” the boy says at once.

“You did not, Edward!” the girl argues. “It was Emily’s idea. Wasn’t it, Em?”

But the younger girl is not listening. She is staring at me. I blink back at her, choking down my disgust at the slimy white matter dotting the corners of her enormous eyes.

Edward seems to sense my displeasure. “Sorry, miss,” he says, taking hold of his younger sister’s arm. “Emily looks too long at people sometimes, even though we tell her it isn’t polite.”

“She just thinks you’re pretty,” the older girl adds, and suddenly all three children are gazing at me. My skin is positively crawling. They are so round and pink and tiny, with dripping noses, and it is impossible to imagine myself ever having been like them.

“She’s bloofer,” Emily whispers shyly, and gooseflesh forms up and down my arms. I think of the afternoon Arthur and I had taken a walk outside my home and a little boy called me that, mispronouncing the word in exactly the same way.

“Yes, she’s beautiful,” the other girl agrees, and they all watch me expectantly.

“Isn’t that nice, Lucy?” Mina prompts me. “These lovely children complimented you.”

I force a smile that feels more like a grimace, and my eyes dart away from the identical round faces for some relief. I realize that the tiny dog’s escape has attracted spectators, and everyone at the tables nearby is watching us. “I am so glad,” I say faintly. “So very glad.”

“Here, let me return Biscuit to you.” Mina hands the quivering pile of white fur to the older girl. “Keep a tighter grip on him so he doesn’t escape again.”

But no sooner has she finished speaking than the dog lifts its head, sniffing excitedly, before jumping out of the child’s arms and tearing over to the cluster of iron tables nearby.

“Not again!” Edward groans.

Biscuit heads straight toward a man sitting alone and begins smelling his polished shoes and the cuffs of his dark trousers. The dog’s tail wags frantically as the man reaches down to pat his head. Everyone is smiling at the pair of them, including Mina, but my heart seems to have stopped beating in my body. The man has a long, pale hand that wears a brass ring with a red garnet. It is Vlad’s hand, and Vlad’s ring, and when the man looks around at the crowd with a sheepish chuckle, it is Vlad’s face—even whiter and handsomer by day—with its long straight nose, sharp jaw, and deep ocean eyes.

“No, I am not your owner, little one,” he says gravely, his rich voice carrying easily. He seems to be exaggerating his accent. “I cannot take you home, for I have no food or bed for you. And I would likely think you were a cushion and sit upon you by accident.”

Mina is laughing as hard as everyone else. The children hurry over, and the older girl apologizes to Vlad as she seizes the dog. Biscuit strains against her arms, trying desperately to get back to Vlad. Clearly, the animal is as charmed by him as everyone else.

“You have won him over, sir,” says a young woman in pink muslin, her eyes roving over Vlad’s well-dressed form with interest. “Perhaps you are an animal trainer?”

He shakes his head, a gesture so familiar that it almost takes my breath away. It is surreal beyond anything I could imagine, seeing in daylight a man I only know in dreams. “No, that is one calling in life I have not yet pursued,” he says in a light, easy tone as his eyes move directly to me. The swiftness with which he finds me in the crowd proves he has been watching me this whole time. I feel mingled fear and excitement at the thought of him studying my face and form and listening to my every word without anyone else knowing our relation to each other. My breath comes a bit too quickly as his gaze holds mine.

“Lucy?” Mina takes my elbow, alarmed. “Are you unwell?”

Quick as a flash, Vlad leaves his seat and approaches us with an elegant bow. The power of his broad shoulders and the handsome head atop them draws every eye in the vicinity as he addresses Mina and me. “Forgive me, ladies, for we have not been introduced. But I could not help noticing that you may be in need of a chair,” he says. “May I give you mine?”

“Please, sir,” Mina says gratefully. “I’m afraid my friend might have caught a chill.”

“From the storm last night? I would not blame her at all. A cold wet wind will trouble even the strongest constitution,” Vlad says, holding out his arm to me.

Slowly, I take it as though in a trance. Through the sleeve of his thick coat, I feel the strength of his arm as he guides me to his chair. He and Mina look at me, both expecting me to say something, but my throat feels too dry and raw for words.

“This is very kind of you, sir,” Mina says to him, ever proper. “Lucy, how are you feeling? Won’t you thank the gentleman for his assistance?”

“Thank you,” I say, still breathless. “I am much obliged to you.”

“It is my pleasure.” Vlad turns to Mina. “Shall I fetch you a chair, miss? So that you may join your charming friend … Lucy , was it?” Quicker than she can see, he gives me the most fleeting and private of smiles, meant only for me. I close my eyes, trying to slow my heart.

“I don’t wish to trouble you—” Mina begins.

“It’s no trouble at all, as long as I may join the two of you?” he asks politely. “Weary traveler that I am, I would appreciate sitting a bit longer.”

“Of course,” she says at once.

Vlad takes two iron chairs from a nearby table, where the flirtatious girl in pink is still watching him hopefully. But he does not spare her a glance as he sets down a chair for Mina, gallantly wiping off the rain with his handkerchief, before taking the other himself. “I hope you do not think this improper, miss,” he says, looking straight at Mina, his self-conscious humility clearly a show for her. “I am new to England’s shores, you see, and where I am from … well, our ways are not your ways. Will you allow me to introduce myself?”

“Certainly,” Mina says, looking charmed.

He proceeds to speak, very smoothly and fluently, a series of names and titles rivaling those of the Queen herself. I recognize a number of different languages, from French to Spanish to German to Russian. “I am of a very large family, with roots all over Europe, as you can see,” he says, sounding apologetic as Mina stares at him, overwhelmed. “The equivalent of my title, in your elegant English, would likely be count.”

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Count,” Mina says courteously. “From where do you hail, with such wide-spreading roots?”

“My primary home is in Austria-Hungary, in a remote place in the mountains.”

“The Carpathians?” Mina asks eagerly, and he nods, his eyebrows raised. “My fiancé is there now on business. I shall not try to pronounce the name of the region, as I would not do it justice, but he told me that it translates into English as the Mountains of Deep Winter.”

“Ah! I know the area well,” Vlad says, smiling.

“I read everything I could about it before he left,” Mina says. “I wanted to know more about where he was traveling, you see. It was my way of going with him. He is a lawyer’s clerk. And I am so sorry, I have not yet introduced myself,” she adds, blushing at her oversight. “I am Mina Murray, and this is my friend Lucy Westenra.”

“A pleasure.” Vlad bows from the waist, ever graceful. “The mountains of which you speak are rather far from here, Miss Murray. You must miss your fiancé very much.”

Mina’s face falls. “Oh, yes, but I am certain he will return soon.”

He nods, all kindness and sympathy, but I detect his wolfish amusement. He is like a river, concealing dark undercurrents beneath the surface, and the evident pleasure he takes in Mina’s pain is troubling, considering he has never seen her before. But he has , I recall with a sharp intake of breath. He mentioned that he has seen her photograph. Jonathan and I are two of the only people to possess a picture of her, so perhaps Vlad has met him. He lives in the country where Jonathan has gone on business, after all. But why would he not tell Mina so?

His eyes cut to me, dagger sharp, detecting my disquiet.

I find my voice at last. “What a coincidence that you hail from the same country. Perhaps you crossed paths with Mina’s fiancé on the journey.”

“Perhaps,” he says, answering me but looking at Mina. “I did leave home quite a while ago, however. Boat travel takes considerable time, as you know.”

“I do not know,” Mina admits. “I’ve never been on a boat or, indeed, left England.”

“Truly? Even though you have a scholarly interest and the heart of a traveler?”

He is still addressing Mina alone, which nettles me, considering that he had spoken similar sentiments to me first. “Mina and I are happy to remain on land at the moment,” I say, bringing myself back into the conversation, “considering what happened last night.”

He does not take his eyes from Mina. “Something happened?” he asks, all innocence.

“A ship came into Whitby. The Demeter ,” I say, and his eyes dart to me at last with a flicker of humor. My brazenness amuses him. “She sailed into port with not a crew member still alive. Perhaps you have heard the news in town or seen her for yourself?”

Vlad spreads his pale hands. “Alas, I fear my English is not good enough yet,” he says to Mina, humble and abashed. “I have not been listening to the talk, as I am still learning.”

“I think your English is very good,” she says politely.

But I am not willing to let go so easily. “I hear the Demeter sailed from Bulgaria. Is that not where your ship originated? That is,” I add hastily, seeing Mina’s surprise, “you did not tell us that, but I assume it is one of the most convenient ports to you.”

The corners of his mouth twitch at my error. “Yes, you are correct. I sailed from Varna,” he says, turning to me at last with friendly attentiveness. The glint in his ocean eyes is challenging me to say more in front of Mina and risk exposing our secret.

But I refuse to be intimidated and meet his gaze full on. “How many ships sail from Bulgaria to England within the span of a few weeks?” I ask. “I can’t imagine that many, as the route seems quite circuitous. And are they all called Demeter ?”

Mina looks between us, puzzled and ill at ease.

Vlad sits back, regarding me with approval and profound interest. I am more daring than he expected me to be. But before he can reply, the people around us utter pleased murmurs as the sun begins filtering through the clouds, casting a soft golden light over Whitby. The sky lightens, and in a minute, the sun will free itself and burst upon the town.

“What a beautiful day it has turned out to be,” Mina says, relieved to change the subject. “Are you staying here in town, sir?”

Vlad stands up abruptly, towering over us, and Mina startles. “I beg your pardon, Miss Murray, but I have just recalled an engagement I cannot miss. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh,” she says, surprised. “It was lovely to meet you as well, Count.”

I wait for him to acknowledge me, but he holds his hand out only to Mina, smiling with chivalrous charm. Hesitantly, she places her fingers in his and flinches, no doubt at the coldness of his touch. “It will be easy to love England if everyone I meet follows your shining example,” he says. “You seem a remarkable lady, Miss Murray. And quite a beloved one, I think. I hope we will meet again. Good day.” He strides away without a second glance at me.

“What a strange man,” Mina says thoughtfully, rubbing the hand he had held.

“You did not like him? Even after all the pretty compliments he gave you?” I frown, annoyed by how he had almost ignored my existence.

“I don’t know him well enough to like or dislike him. But I find it interesting that he spoke with a heavy accent when we first met him, and by the end of our chat, his English was almost perfect. Did you notice? And how quickly he left when the sun came out. Perhaps his skin burns easily, as mine does. He is paler than anyone I’ve seen.”

“He does seem the sort to be vain and use a parasol,” I quip.

But Mina isn’t listening. “He seems well spoken and amiable enough, but I got the strange sense that he was laughing at us. There was something in his voice, perhaps, or the flash of his eyes. As though he were an adult speaking to two amusing, precocious children.”

I look at her, surprised. “How observant you are, my Mina.”

“The diaries I keep have taught me to use my eyes and ears,” she says, smiling. “He was very cool toward you, darling. Perhaps you offended him by questioning him so thoroughly about his travels. You seemed to think he was lying to us about his journey.”

“Oh, what does it matter?” I ask, sick of the subject of Vlad. “He’s no one and nothing to me. And here is Mamma at last. Let’s go home. I’ve a frightful headache.”

My mother comes out of the post office with Mrs. Edgerton, a widow with whom we had become vaguely acquainted last summer. “Girls, how on earth did you manage to meet the count so quickly?” Mamma asks, glowing with excitement. “All the ladies in the post office are in a flutter over him. And Mrs. Edgerton here knows all about him.”

“You do?” I ask the widow, astonished.

Quiet, reserved Diana Edgerton is in her midthirties and pretty in a faded way, with light brown hair and soft dark eyes. She is often overlooked and forgotten at parties but is tolerated by Whitby’s high society because of the lofty fortune and beautiful summer home her elderly husband had left her. She keeps herself apart and spurns any and all advances of true friendship, including my own, but I do not take offense as the other ladies do, being so fond of solitude myself. And I have always liked the romance of her mysterious past: according to the gossips, she had been a harpist of some fame, disowned by her family for pursuing a musical career, and had met her husband in one of the great houses where she had performed.

“I made the count’s acquaintance this morning,” Mrs. Edgerton says in her soft voice. “He got lost on the beach in front of my house, and as it was cold and rainy, he begged to come in for a cup of tea. We spoke for an hour or two before I directed him into town.”

“An hour or two?” I say playfully to hide my growing annoyance with Vlad. Clearly, I am not as special as he had made me feel on all our evenings together, and he is still searching for that perfect woman. “Then you truly do know all about him.”

Mamma laughs. “Mrs. Edgerton was forbidden to leave the post office without giving the ladies a full account of the meeting. They even kept me from going out to you girls, for fear of interrupting your tête-à-tête! I think they were hoping he might make one of you his countess.”

“But that is impossible,” Mina says, upset. “Lucy and I are both engaged to be married.”

“I know,” my mother says, touching her shoulder. “It was all in fun, of course. If anyone is to be a candidate for countess, it would be you .” She raises an arched eyebrow at Mrs. Edgerton, who blushes and stares with her wide doe eyes. “And why not? You are quite pretty and of a good age for him, and the gentleman is so very dashing.”

“I beg you would not say such things, Mrs. Westenra, even in kindness and jest,” Mrs. Edgerton murmurs, though she cannot hide her pleasure at the suggestion.

I stand up, faintly nauseated by the sight of the widow blushing over Vlad. “Mamma, do stop mortifying the poor lady and let us go home. I would like to rest. I was feeling faint earlier.”

“Oh, yes, that was how we met the count,” Mina says. “He gallantly gave her his chair.”

“Poor Lucy. We will go at once.” Mamma smiles at the widow. “Mrs. Edgerton, I hope you will visit us soon. You are welcome at any time. One must not be alone so much.”

“Yes, perhaps, thank you,” Mrs. Edgerton says quietly.

Mamma, Mina, and I head toward home just as one last cloud obscures the sun on its way out to sea. The sudden gloom jars the brilliance like an incorrectly played note in a piece of music and only intensifies my ill humor. I remain silent as my mother and Mina discuss the widow.

“How reserved Mrs. Edgerton is,” Mina says. “She seems lonely. I feel for her.”

My mother nods. “She’s a bit of a shrinking violet. Lucy and I try to befriend her, but she always has some flimsy excuse for not accepting our invitations. It would be good for her to marry again and choose someone who seems as sociable as the count.”

“He is still a stranger,” Mina protests gently. “We know next to nothing about him.”

“Well, then, we should throw them together a few more times,” my mother says with a dazzling smile. “Perhaps if I had a tall, dark, and handsome count on hand, we could finally induce her to come over for tea. What do you think, Lucy?”

“Oh, Mamma, do leave the poor woman alone,” I say, exasperated. “I have always liked her despite her aloofness. She clearly enjoys her solitude, and I think she is brave for remaining unmarried. In fact, I envy her the freedom of widowhood.”

“Lucy!” Mina says, shocked.

I shrug. “It is plain to see that Mrs. Edgerton has had a difficult life, and she was married to an old man. We ought to leave her in peace and let her be unattached if she likes.”

“Perhaps she only remained so because the right man never appeared … until now,” says my mother with mischievous sparkle, unbothered by my protests. She glances down at my arm, which is linked in hers. “Why, Lucy, have you left your reticule behind?”

I sigh. “It must still be on that table. I will go back.”

“Let me. You ought to go home,” Mina offers, but I shake my head and hurry off, eager to be alone. I have had more than enough of other women fussing and blushing over Vlad for today, after more than a month of having him to myself. I fume as I stalk back toward the post office, thinking he might have spared me a kind word today after all the time we have spent together and after I had almost caught my death of cold last night on his account.

My reticule is not on the table. I bend to look beneath it, frustrated, and when I straighten, Vlad is standing next to me. My little blue silk handbag is dangling from his long fingers.

“Did you steal my reticule?” I ask, annoyed.

He holds it just out of reach, his eyes bright. “How else could I speak to you alone?” he asks, keeping his distance with all the curious eyes on us. I am sure we make a striking pair: me in cornflower blue with my hair swept up beneath my hat, and him tall and imposing in all black.

“You didn’t seem very keen to speak to me when Mina was here,” I say coldly.

“Lucy, please don’t be angry with me,” he coaxes, handing me my reticule as though it is a peace offering. His voice is soft with regret. “I was trying to protect you. We wouldn’t want Mina to realize that you are more to me than just a stranger, would we?”

I loop the chain over my arm. “You have no shortage of willing company now, so I am no longer necessary. Perhaps you will find someone more worthy of knowing about your journey.”

“Come to me tonight and I will tell you everything. I promise.” His hand reaches out to touch my arm, just stopping short. “You know how much you mean to me. You weren’t jealous, were you?” He speaks in a kind, pleasant, and cajoling way, so reminiscent of our earliest evenings together, but on his face is a smirk that strengthens my resolve.

“I will not be coming tonight. Good day, Count ,” I say, turning on my heel.

Vlad walks beside me, matching me step for step. “I did want to tell you what happened on the Demeter , but I couldn’t until we were alone. You understand that, don’t you?”

My curiosity is unbearable, but he knows it and he is smug, and he thinks he can beckon to or ignore me as though I am a dog. I stop in my tracks and look up at him. “I cannot see you anymore, Vlad. You are here in town. You have met people I love. I do not know how any of this is possible, but I do know that it is no longer a dream atop the cliffs. It is a reality now, and it is dangerous. You are dangerous.”

He takes a step closer to me, his eyes moving all over my face like a caress. “When did danger ever frighten you, my Lucy?” he asks softly.

“You hurt me last night,” I say, unable to keep my lips from trembling. I turn away from him. “The pain in my head, the invasion of my thoughts. I don’t know how you did those things, but it was not the act of a friend. And you hurt me today by ignoring me.”

“I am truly sorry,” he says quietly. “I only wanted to know what you were thinking. I want to be important to you, the way you are to me. Let me make amends.” He bends to look beneath my hat, his face earnest. “Come tonight and you will know all. I give you my word.”

I look up at him, torn between fear and frustration, curiosity and longing. As I hesitate, the clouds shift in the sky and sunlight bursts out upon Whitby in all its blinding radiance. I shield my eyes with my hand, but when I lower it again, Vlad is gone and I am standing alone.