The Vampire's Crimson Kiss (Editing)

Interlude 2: The Secrets of the Ferryman

John Rene looked at the girl in the corner of his shack and reminisced about several months prior. His ears had caught the screeches of fighting seagulls. He had been searching through the trash discarded from the tower; there was always plenty of meat and vegetables to collect. As a ferryman, his work involved transporting people to and from the Black Keep, but sometimes the work could be slow, and he could starve. 

He had seen her and initially thought she was another body that had been disposed of, but then she moved, and he quickly rushed to her and rescued her. She had been so close to death when he brought her body into his hideout, an old building with a few crumbling stories above the lake's water level. 

She had lain on his bed close to death for many days. Slowly, she had become a little stronger.

"Who are you?" she had asked after taking an hour to open her eyes. 

"I am Jean Rene Charon; the people around here call me the Ferryman," his voice carried a subtle, melodic cadence, his accent betraying his French origins. The words seemed to dance on the air like musical notes.

"You don't sound like you're from around here. Are you from Newcastle or Scotland or somewhere?" Her voice was fragile, like a whisper in the wind.

"No, I am French, from over the narrow sea," he corrected, his words as smooth as silk.

She murmured her thanks as she accepted the warm bowl of soup, her voice barely audible. It was a feeble attempt to break the ice, but she couldn't muster more strength.

She refused to tell him her name or where her family lived, shame haunting her like a most uncivil ghost. In return, he had forbidden her to go upstairs as it was 'dangerous' there. A few days later, he found her crawling upstairs to his personal library.

"What are you doing here? This area is forbidden to you," he had said, his voice carrying a tone of gentle admonishment.

She looked down, her eyes avoiding his gaze. "Sorry, the sunlight was too bright for my eyes; I had to find somewhere darker."

"Was the sunlight too bright in your eyes, or did you hear the sound of that familiar ship going by?" He asked.

"The ship going by," she confessed, looking down, her words tinged with vulnerability.

"You've escaped from the coven, haven't you?" he deduced, his voice now carrying empathy.

"Please don't send me back there; it's terrible," she had pleaded mutely, her voice filled with desperation.

"Don't worry, I won't do that. Still, you've lost a lot of blood," he said, his voice softening as he fetched more gruel.

The river girl was curious, her gaze wandering around the room, taking in the countless books that lined the shelves.

"What are all these books? You have too many books here for a ferryman," she observed.

The river girl was the first person to share his home for more than a few minutes. His every instinct told him he could trust her.

"Well, given I know your secret as a coven runaway, I will share mine, but you're not going to tell anyone, yes? I am not just a ferryman," he revealed, his voice tinged with a hint of mystery.

"You have too many books for a spy," she remarked, her curiosity piqued.

"I am not a spy. If I am, then I am a spy for truth."

"You are an alchemist or a scientist?" she asked, her voice filled with intrigue.

Jean Rene laughed, the sound rich and hearty, filling the room with warmth.