Winterly (Dark Creatures Book 1), стр. 134

There was no want of tonality or tint in the sounds of nature, even those too faint for mortal detection. She’d not been prepared for such sensory brilliance and animation. To the preternatural eye and ear, the world (even this small parcel, somewhere between Dover and Ostend) was filled with light and vibrance.

The hull of the packet ship, upon which they’d secured the very best cabin, sliced effortlessly through the waves, bestirring bright flashes of bioluminescence. The North Sea glowed with life as no night sea ever deigned to do for the mortal eye. The sky was bestarred with heaven’s jewels, some glinting with sapphires and some veined with rubies. Some streaked purple dust and ember across a prismatic milky way as they hurtled past. Even the faint shard of moon still remaining was limned with gold and silver, the shadowed portion of its face detailed with mysterious craters.

She glanced towards her silent companion and wondered if he saw the world as she did. How could he understand the drabness of human sight? William had never seen the world through mortal eyes. His back was to the bulwark, his eyes boring into the deck, which seemed to creak nervously in reply. Wehr-wolves had always been preternatural, so how could they possibly appreciate the nuances? This wolf in particular, who was so unlike his gregarious brother in everything except the uncanny resemblance. She’d never met identical twins, all this time she’d mistaken William for Nicholas the few times she’d come across him. That first night at Winterthurse it had been William she and Milli had dined with, not Nicholas—the wrong Valko entirety.

Emma turned away with a sigh, searching the sky for Markus who had flown on ahead to secure rooms for his bride in Ostend. How strange to be a bride—stranger still to be a vampyre, she supposed. And to become both in less than a sennight! She glanced down at the golden wedding band upon which was perched a fat ruby solitaire glinting with fiery warmth and color such as she’d never known existed in a stone. Markus had replaced his signet ring with this one on their wedding night. A wedding night that had not yet been consummated, for there had been no time. There had been no time even to speak about all that had happened, and all that was happening to her. There was only Milli to think of, lest they think too long on the death of Nicholas.

What would their poor mother and father think of Emma’s rushed marriage in Gretna Green? Her uncle and aunt! Would they all imagine the worst? That she’d forsaken her virtue before the wedding night and been honor bound to set the matter aright without delay. She grinned. Well, that was not altogether untrue. But even an immortal could not waste time when the captivity of her sister demanded hasty action. So here she was, wedded and yet unbedded—she and Markus were as nervous strangers to one another. But the long journey that stretched ahead meant that they might find the time now to touch upon all that had been left unspoken.

Footsteps sounded from the poop deck as the Captain left the nightwatchman at his helm. When he reached her, she heard him hesitate behind her. She could smell the fear upon him. Fear for the brooding giant beside her and fear for the strange pale lady that had bought passage upon his ship. She could almost hear the cogs whirr as he wondered about the formidable lord who was nowhere to be seen. Emma knew she and her silent companion looked no more human than Markus ever had, but mortals had a way of explaining away a preternatural’s aegis as either strange beauty or some or other terrifying splendor unnamed. Aegis was a tricky concept: for wehr-wolves and vampyres it was their human facades masking the daemons within; for witches it was their familiars and their maleficium. It was fed by blood and flesh.

Even when she’d been human, she’d known—felt the truth shift along her bones like a primordial shadow—that there was something different about Markus and Victoria. Only Nicholas had been the most successful at imitating humanity.

The captain hemmed. “I beg your pardon, my lady…”

“Yes, Captain Maudsley?”

“We are on schedule to arrive in about five hours.”

Yes, Emma could already see the lights of the harbor shimmering weakly on the horizon, though he and his watchmen could not see it through the salt mist. “Very good, Captain.” She wished he’d take himself off with all haste, for she was exceedingly hungry!

Again he hesitated. “Will his lordship be—”

“My husband wishes not to be disturbed in his cabin, thank you, captain. That will be all.”

“Of course, my lady.” He gave a deferential nod and hurried off.

She shut her eyes and took a deep breath of unadulterated night air, unperfumed by human blood.

William grunted beside her. “You cannot avoid your nature forever, Emma. You will need to feed when we arrive at Ostend. Either that or—” he turned to rest his elbows on the railing “—you’ll go mad with weakness.”

She ran her tongue over her fangs, exploring their pearly edges. “Do not concern yourself with my troubles, Will. I’d much rather you concentrate on not eating the steerage passengers.”

“That was one time,” he muttered with a growl.

She shook her head, recalling what she’d heard about the growling crates on Astraeus. A change of subject was essential if she didn’t wish to fly at the poor watchmen who was doing his rounds amidship, unwittingly close to a ravenous vampyre and a wehr-wolf on the verge of a black moon, when his ferocious power was indirectly proportional to his self-control. “How do you know Milli was taken this way?”

“I tracked her to Dover.”

“Yes, I know, but how?”

The space between them seemed to grow dank with heaviness as William shifted uneasily. “Because I share a bond with her.”

She answered with a stiff nod. “Because it is you that bit her.” His