Belle Morte Bites (Belle Morte 4.3)

The Woman on the Train

England, 1844

Ysanne Moreau was deeply suspicious of the train.

It rattled beneath her and all around her, and the countryside flashed by the windows far too fast. It was too loud.

Why was everyone getting so excited about these things?

Did they really have a future?

She was less than convinced.

She moved down the corridor, heading for her first class compartment, then paused just outside another compartment. A woman sat inside, her posture rigid, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Clearly Ysanne wasn't the only one who was uncomfortable about this whole thing.

But that wasn't what had made her pause.

The absolute silence from the compartment was.

The woman had no heartbeat.

Intrigued, Ysanne rapped her knuckles on the partition separating the compartments from the corridors.

The woman looked up.

Her hair was blonde – a shade or two darker than Ysanne's – and thickly curly, held back by her face with a velvet ribbon. There was something familiar about that hair, but Ysanne couldn't place it.

The woman's eyes narrowed, then widened as she realised the same thing as Ysanne had.

"May I come in?" Ysanne asked.

The woman nodded.

Ysanne took the seat opposite, resting her elbow on the armrest and trying to look more at ease than she actually was.

"I'm Ysanne Moreau," she said.

"Caoimhe Ó Duinnín."

The voice was familiar too, and Ysanne cast back into her memories, trying to place it.

"You don't seem entirely comfortable with this," Ysanne said, waving a hand around the compartment.

Caoimhe smiled tightly. "It's my first time."

"Mine too."

"Really?"

"I thought I'd see what all the fuss was about."

"It moves too fast. I don't like it," Caoimhe said.

"I can't say I do either."

"Do you think it's safe?" Caoimhe asked.

"You don't believe all this nonsense about people being driven insane by trains in motion, or disintegrating at high speed, do you?" Ysanne said.

"I'm more concerned with the damned thing crashing or coming off the rails or the boiler exploding. It wouldn't be the first time such an accident occurred."

"Then I suppose it's a good thing we're both vampires," Ysanne said.

Caoimhe scrutinised her. "You're French?"

"By birth, yes, though it's been a long time since I lived there. And you're clearly Irish."

Caoimhe's smile was sad around the edges. "It's a while since I've lived in Ireland too. You know how it is for vampires."

"I certainly do. That's why I forced myself to board this contraption. The human world is changing so fast, and it's getting increasingly hard to keep up."

"My feelings exactly." Caoimhe leaned forward. "Have you tried this electricity thing yet?"

"I have."