Free Sybrina by Amy Rachiele

darkness.
     
    Elijah:
    Hours turn into days, and I wrestle with the idea that maybe I should feed her —give her a drop of immortal blood.  That would hasten her recovery ten-fold.   The sailor youth stops by every now and again wanting a report on her condition. Nothing has changed, unfortunately. I sop up the sweat from her brow, listen for her heartbeats, and attempt to give her water. In her unconscious state very little travels down her throat; most ends up on the sheets and pools around her neck.
    A gentle knock at my door.
    “Minister? I have the sheets you asked for.” I reach for the door from my position of sitting on the edge of the bed and pull. Freshly laundered linens and a white nightgown embellished in lace are in his hands. “One of the crew gave me this. He bought it for his wife in Boston and was bringing it home to England. But he said Miss Sybrina needs it more, and his wife would be angry if he did not give it to her when needed.”
    “ That is very kind.”
    Mouse ’s demeanor, which is typically fearful, changes to anxious.  “The captain,” he starts, and I know my eyes have morphed into a raging depth. He takes two steps back. “He wishes to see you.”
    “ I’m sure he does,” I concur offhandedly as I absently tuck the blanket around Sybrina.
    “ He told me to stay with the miss if you said you did not wish to leave her... I will do whatever you want me to do, sir.  I care not for the captain’s treatment of someone who has been so nice to me.”
    The boy ’s words slice through me and soften my hard core.  I sigh and do not wish to see him in trouble with the captain or below in the brig for disobedience. I should, sooner rather than later, take care of the nuisance which is the captain.
    “ You may stay while I make a visit to the captain.” I rise off the bed and feel a pang of loss at being away from her even if only for a short time. This bereft sensation frustrates me because it fuels my want.
    The enclosed hallway that connects the chamber on the ship is vacant as I stride through. I find Stokes at his desk in his archaic but opulent captain’s quarters. He stands when he notices me in the doorway.  He takes an instinctual step back. I hover, filling in the space of the captain’s refuge and home on this little world on water. His face is a cold mask of ignorance with weathered lines.
    I wish to make my task quick so that I may return to Sybrina. I move with lightning speed, watching as the captain’s eyes jut around looking for me, but my movement is too fast for his slow human eyes.
    I grab his throat from behind and twist his head, not in the hopes of snapping it, but of commanding his mind ’s attention for my immortal’s trick of persuasion.  
    With his eyes wide and focused on my own, I begin, “I find you repulsive and your lack of insight infuriating. You will allow the boy Paul to read to the crew. You will acknowledge Paul as Sybrina.  You will treat her as the woman she is, of elevated station and as your guest aboard the ship.”
    The power of suggestion motivates the simpleminded to adhere to the requests of the vampire. The older I get in this life the more I find I use this ability.  In my early days as a vampire, I felt it a sinister betrayal to interfere with a human ’s sense, but then I came to realize in my wisdom that it is necessary for many things, like my own selfishness. If you held that a vampire had any sort of decency, it is only to charm its prey.  A brutish turn of the cycle of this life—another ageless ideology that spans the gamut of time.
    I release my hold and the man falls. The captain first hits the chair and then crumples to the floor. He will sleep for a short time and not remember our encounter. Stepping over him, I leave, shutting the door behind me, and I make my way back to the beautiful Sybrina.
    Mouse is perched atop my trunk staring at Sybrina with hope on his face that she will stir or show some sign of