Anno Dracula - Kim Newman [56]
In the Minories, Geneviève became aware again that she was being followed at a distance. Over the last few nights, she had almost always been half-conscious of something just out of mind’s reach. Something in yellow that hopped.
‘Are you very old, Miss Dee?’ Rebecca asked.
‘Yes. Sixteen years warm, and four hundred and fifty-six dark.’
‘Are you an elder?’
‘I suppose so. My first ball was in 1429.’
‘Will I be an elder?’
It was unlikely. Few vampires lived as long as they would have unturned. If Rebecca lasted her first century, then she would most likely live several more. Most likely.
‘If I become an elder, I hope to be just like you.’
‘Be careful what you hope for, Rebecca.’
They came to the railway bridge, and Geneviève saw a huddle of women and men under the arches. The thing out of range stopped too, she thought. She had an impression of something truly old, but not truly dead.
‘Here, Miss Dee.’
Rebecca took her hand and led her to the group. At the centre of attention was Cathy Eddowes, sitting on the cobbles with Lily’s head in her lap. Neither new-born looked well. Cathy was thinner than she had been a few nights ago. Her rash had crept to cover her cheeks and forehead. The scarf wrapped about her head did not conceal the extent of her blemishes. The onlookers let Geneviève through and Cathy smiled up at her. Lily was in a kind of fit, with only the whites of her eyes showing.
‘She nearly swallowed ’er tongue, poor mite,’ Cathy said. ‘I ’ad to stick me thumb in there.’
‘What’s wrong with Lily?’ Rebecca asked.
Geneviève laid a hand on the child, and felt her shaking. Bones moved under her skin, as if her skeleton were trying to assume new form, misshaping her flesh.
‘I don’t really know,’ Geneviève admitted. ‘She’s trying to shape-shift and she’s not very good at it.’
‘I’d like to shift my shape, Miss Dee. I could be a bird or a big cat...’
Geneviève looked at Rebecca and let the new-born look at Lily. Rebecca understood.
‘I suppose I should wait until I’m older.’
‘Keep that thought, Rebecca.’
A murgatroyd from the West End had turned Lily, for a lark. Geneviève resolved to find that new-born and inculcate in him an awareness of his responsibility to his abandoned child-in-darkness. If he would not listen, she might hurt him enough to convince him never again to be profligate with his Dark Kiss. Then she thought to herself, ‘Careful.’ She sounded too much like the Old Testament.
Lily’s arm was still most sorely affected. It was a complete batwing now, withered and dead, membrane stretched between bony spines. A tiny useless hand sprouted from a node of the ribs.
‘She’ll never fly,’ Geneviève said.
‘What’s to be done?’ Cathy asked.
‘I’ll take her to the Hall. Maybe Dr Seward has some treatment.’
‘There’s no ’ope, is there?’
‘There’s always hope, Cathy. No matter how much you suffer. You must see the doctor too. I’ve told you before.’
Cathy cringed. She was afraid of doctors and hospitals, more afraid than of policemen and jails.
‘Strewth,’ someone swore. ‘What in God’s blood is that?’
Geneviève turned to look. Most of the crowd faded away into the fog. She was left with Cathy, Lily and Rebecca. Something was coming near, emerging from the murk.
She would at last face the thing that had been dogging her. Standing, she looked about her. The railway arch was about twenty feet tall; a heavily-loaded wagon could get through. The thing was coming the way she had come, down from Aldgate. She heard it first, like a slow beat of a drum. The thing bounced like a rubber ball, but with an unnatural slowness as if fog were as thick as water. Its silhouette became apparent. It was tall and wore a tasselled cap. Its yellow garment was a long robe, huge sleeves dangling from extended arms. It had been a Chinaman a long time ago. It still wore slippers on its small feet.
Rebecca stared at the vampire thing.
‘That,’ Geneviève said, ‘is an elder.’
It kept leaping forwards like Spring-Heel’d Jack. Geneviève made out a face like