Belle Morte Bites (Belle Morte 4.3)

The Woman by the River

Banbury, England, 1844

Four months had passed since Gideon Hartwright had walked away from Nicholas, and forging his own path had proved harder than expected.

When he and Nicholas had travelled, Nicholas had paid for just about everything. After living so long he'd accrued a lot of finances, whereas Gideon had walked away from his family with nothing, and he hadn't realised how much he'd relied on Nicholas until he didn't have him anymore.

Gone were the comfortable beds in decent lodging houses, replaced by lonely days of sleeping rough. It wasn't exactly what Gideon had had in mind, and sometimes he wondered if he'd made a mistake by ending things with Nicholas.

Then he reminded himself of how he'd felt when he walked away – that lingering anger over Nicholas's trickery, the feeling of being trapped in a relationship that simply wasn't working anymore, that stifled sense of not quite knowing who he was but wanting to find out.

He'd done the right thing.

He knelt by the River Cherwell, which separated the towns of Banbury and Grimsbury, and splashed cold water on his face, scrubbing away the dirt from sleeping out in the open.

At least he was a vampire, unaffected by cold or sickness, though even vampires found sleeping on the ground uncomfortable.

Gideon splashed his face again, then sat on the riverbank, pulling off his boots and sinking his feet into the cold water.

Things were hard now, but he had to believe they'd get better.

A slender figure materialised out of the shadows, walking towards him – a girl with long blonde hair and delicate features that seemed carved from smoothest marble under the light of the moon.

Gideon watched her approach.

"Are you alright?" she asked, stopping a short distance away.

Current fashions dictated that women should have pale complexions – anything that showed the touch of the sun was considered vulgar – but the moon made this girl's skin seem almost silver. Her hair glimmered like pale gold.

"Yes," Gideon replied, wondering what she was doing here.

It was hardly normal for Victorian women to be out unescorted, let alone at this time of night. What was she doing down by the river?

Her gaze perused him, sharp and intense, and he felt strangely exposed.

"How long has it been since you were turned?" she asked.

Gideon started, pulling his feet out of the river. "What?"

"How long?" she repeated.

Gideon glanced around, and even though no one else was there, he lowered his voice. "You know I'm a vampire?"

"Of course I do."

"How?"

She smiled, showing off fangs that gleamed like sharpened pearls.

"You're a vampire," Gideon realised.

Suddenly he didn't know what to do with himself.

Of course he knew there were other vampires in the world besides Nicholas, but this was the first time he'd met one, and he felt completely at a disadvantage.

"I am," she said. "My name's Jemima."

"Gideon," he muttered.

She waited expectantly, and he realised he hadn't answered her question.