Aidan had spoken true when she said she couldn't mindlessly feed on humanity. She missed seeing the sun and all of her friends from the Opera. Thankfully, she had found that there were things about this existence that she enjoyed as well. One thing in particular was playing billiards with Erik. Since the night she had heard him play the pianoforte it had become something of a favorite pastime. He had continued teaching her the game and in truth, she rather enjoyed him brushing against her when he helped her aim for a shot. After each game, when he inevitably won, he would always ask her to come to his bed. She always declined. Her mind and her heart simply didn't know how to reconcile themselves with the rules of human society and the customs of vampires.
There had been a time when she had been sure of her feelings for him. That night at Minsden Chapel she had fallen in love with him and if he had coaxed her, she might have yielded. That was when she had thought him human, before she had learned the truth. Now she didn't know what to think or how to feel, or perhaps she did and didn't want to admit it.
Flying to the top of one of London's tallest buildings she sat down and looked up at the stars that sparkled in the clear night. As a child she could remember pretending that the heroes of her childhood games had been a man of his description. Now he was here and she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. If he would just tell her how he felt or even showed her then the decision would be easy, but he never did. Erik Ambrose never spoke of his emotions and very seldom showed them to her. She wanted him to give his heart to her and love her. Perhaps it was a foolish romantic notion, but in an existence that has no attachments or commitments was it so much to ask? Watching the stars overhead she lifted her head and began to sing.
Aidan assumed that no one could hear so high up, but she was wrong. With supernatural power it was carried through the city on the night wind. It floated through alleyways, down streets and past homes and businesses. Most mortals seemed unaware of the music or if they heard it at all they assumed it was just a trick of the wind. To the denizens of the night it was beautiful, hypnotic and sang with such clarity that they could understand each word as well as feel the emotion that followed it. Only one of their own could pull off such a feat, or an angel sent by God. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.
The song continued unabated through the city and reached the ears of Alex Mabon as she reached for the knob of the door of the Inn he was staying at. He stood there transfixed and in awe of what he was hearing. The voice spoke of an unnamed lover possessing the secrets of her heart within his eyes. There was comfort in his arms and it seemed as though her soul had always known him. The hunter had no doubt that each note was meant for someone, maybe the moon, maybe to other lost souls both mortal and immortal . . . maybe someone else.
Her words traveled through the night and found Erik's ears as he stood at the docks and watched a crate being unloaded from a ship. The vampire stood there transfixed by the haunting sound. He had been afraid she would never sing again, but now his heart practically leapt at the sound. It didn't seem to come from anywhere in particular, but from the night itself and he knew that she was singing to him.
There was another man, a Luddite, waiting at the docks holding a bag filled with money so he could buy the arms that were contained in the crate from the vampire. He and many other men were dissatisfied with how textile jobs were being taken over by automated equipment and cheaper labor. They had families to feed and were desperate to put an end to it. This was the first step towards changing things. Right now they wanted to be prepared should they have to fight for their jobs. Desperate and seeing the way Erik's attention was diverted he started to become paranoid and a little afraid. The man was oblivious to the music and started to say something only to be quickly hushed by "Le Coeur Noir". He was not about to miss a single note.
Aidan's song ended in a crescendo declaring her belief in miracles and that there was no one in all existence like the unknown lover she was singing to. Satisfied, smiled to herself then flew back to Osrik House. Walking through the door she found herself wondering why life couldn't be more like the stories in some of the books she read? She loved stories where true love prevails and every hero inspires. The library at Osrik House was immense and Aidan had taken to reading before bed. She had just completed a volume of Celtic lore and found the tales of fairies, banshees, seelie courts and unseelie courts fascinating. When she was little her mother used to tell her old Irish stories and a few were in the book.
Knowing that dawn was only a few short hours away, Aidan went to the library and decided to see if there was another volume of folklore like it. At the top of the shelf she spied a large leather bound book of Greek myths and she started up the ladder to get it. It was precariously perched on top of a stack of other books and her fingers could just touch it. As she inched it closer she thought she had it only to have the entire stack fall off the shelf into a pile on the floor. In the process they had inadvertently knocked a large ornate travel desk off a table and spilled its contents. Aidan immediately went down and began to pick up the mess. The ornate tortoise shell and ivory secretary lay on its side with the writing surface open and a couple of drawers on the floor. She was immediately relieved to see that the corks in the ink had stayed in place and none of it had leaked out.
Righting the desk and setting it back on the table; she found the first drawer held only blank paper and some quill pens. As she picked up the second drawer she noticed that it held correspondence from Patrice Claudel and it spoke of herself. Unable to stop, she began reading the different letters and found that they began from when she first was taken in until just a few months ago. They detailed her education, health and expenses. There was even one written when she reached the appropriate age for having suitors that detailed a large dowry for her of 30,000 £. A bank book was also present in the drawer that showed an account that Patrice had been drawing on with notes detailing each expense.
She wondered how he could have known her. Carefully she put the items back in the drawer and put it back in the travel desk. Glancing over her shoulder quickly to be sure he wasn't there she opened more drawers hoping to find more, but there was nothing of consequence till she came to the last drawer. Neatly folded in the last compartment was a small knitted baby blanket. She studied it a moment thinking that it was a rather odd item for a vampire to have stashed in a desk. Looking at its shape and style it seemed somehow familiar, then she realized it was her own. Originally it had been white and intricately knitted, but time and a child's playful hands had left it discolored in areas and a bit frayed at the edges. She had forgotten about the blanket and how she had liked to wear it as a shawl when she played. She was confused, how had he come into possession of it? Slowly a memory began to surface and she remembered the screams of a woman warning her about the vampire. Then she remembered the image of a tall man dressed impeccably in black.
"Erik," she whispered, realizing the truth. She reached into her drawstring purse and took out the old broken pocket watch with the cameo of Persephone and the pomegranate. She could remember it all now.
Her mind took her back to when she was a small child sitting in her mother's rocking chair next to the fireplace. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. She missed her mother so much. In her hands she clutched a small hand bag where she kept the few precious things her mother had left her. The first was a small gold wedding band that her father had saved for nearly a year to buy her mother. The second was a lace handkerchief that was tattered around the edges, but was special because her mother had made it for her. The last was a small prayer book. Her mother had only been able to read a little but she loved to read it by the firelight in the evenings. For the first time Aidan felt alone, yet somehow not alone. She had already seen the evidence of a "guardian angel". She had assumed that her mother would be buried in a pauper's grave because there simply was no money. Yet instead she was told that an anonymous benefactor had purchased a grave and small headstone for Mrs. Cathal at Bunhill Fields Cemetery.
The morning of the funeral had been beautiful. There were no clouds in the air and the birds were chirping. The only ones there were Aidan, the minister who had also been paid by the same anonymous benefactor and a couple of regular customers who had also become Mrs. Cathal's friends. Now as she sat in her mother's rocking chair she wondered what was going to happen to her. Would she be required to work off the price of her mother's funeral and resting place? How would she pay off the rest of her mother's debts? Would she be sent to a workhouse or left here to continue her mother's work? It was all too much for a little girl and for the moment all she could do was cry.
Aidan noticed a beautiful carriage stop in front of her house and a woman stepped out of it. She was surprised to see the woman open her front door and step in. She was dressed in a beautiful English frock made of pale blue satin. Her golden hair was perfectly styled into a soft bun on her head with no hair out of place. Aidan's eyes studied her from the top of her plumed hat to her satin slippers. Realizing this probably someone of importance she immediately curtsied.
