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Gideon

“Did Aerin really think some rope was going to hold me?” Gideon scoffed as he left her home. Whatever spell she had cast on him had worn off rather quickly, much to his relief. He’d have to be on guard if he ran into her. The town shone brightly; he had never seen candlelight so intense before. They must have spent a fortune on candles. Yet, there was an empty expanse across the cove, and no ship in the harbor matched his foggy memory. He would find his crew in town, and everything would be explained. Perhaps they had made port during the storm. Aerin had dressed him but hadn’t left his shoes, and they hadn’t been replaced. It didn’t matter; his ship took priority.

The streetlights had similar glowing glass instead of candles and were terribly harsh on the eyes. Horse-drawn carriages had been replaced by hulking metal machinery with wheels that were awfully loud. In his spotty memory, he recalled seeing vague sketches of such automotives in fairs, but these were far less crude.

How long have I been asleep for so much of the world to change? A deep-seated dread spread through his body as he ventured through the quaint town.

He made his way to the harbor, where some smaller boats were docked, but there was no sign of his ship on the water. Maybe they docked ships further out—the pier might not be deep enough for larger vessels. An older gentleman sat at the end of the dock, a strange fishing rod in hand and a thin cigar between his lined lips.

“Apologies, but I’m looking for the port authority. Who is in charge of the marina? I’m looking for my ship?” Gideon asked, noticing he was the only one out at this hour. Surely the marina should have some security, but he didn’t see any. Who was protecting the ships from pirates? Thieves? Was the small town really so unprotected?

“Your ship?” The fisherman frowned. “Can I know the name of your boat? I might be able to tell you where it is.”

“You seem to misunderstand. This vessel wouldn’t be easily lost.” Gideon laughed. “A brigantine, two masts, square sails on the foremast, roughly 111 feet long.” The details slipped easily from his tongue.

“There hasn’t been a ship like that in these waters for over a century.”

A century? Could I have been trapped beneath the waves for a whole century? Gideon frowned.

“Are you alright?” The fisherman scratched his balding head and looked out at the moonlight.

“I don’t understand; you must have heard of the—” Gideon tried to recall the name of his ship, but his mind went blank.

“You seem rather confused, and if you don’t mind me saying, you don’t look well. Can I take you to the hospital?” He offered, rising to his feet. “It’s not far. Just across the square,” he suggested, staring at his bare feet and lack of layers. It wasn’t his fault that Aerin had taken his long coat.

Gideon forced a reassuring smile. “Forgive me for taking up so much of your time, but I’m well. I’ve got turned around since I’m new in town.”

“A tourist; it all makes sense now. You must be looking for the Maritime Museum, that’s where you’ll find such a ship. Many come to Indigo Cove for our maritime history, but perhaps you misread the tourist brochure. Rest assured, you should be able to find whatever ship you’re interested in at the museum. You can find all the records you need there.” The fisherman smiled, tidying up his tackle box.

Indigo Cove? Gideon tried to search for the name of the town in his memory, but it didn’t sound familiar, though it was nice to know where he had ended up. But it certainly wasn’t his intended destination.

“The museum, right? I clearly made a mistake.” His heart sank as he failed to find his ship, his crew. “Have you heard of a Captain Wardine in town? A stout man, long grey beard, carrying a gold pocket watch with a broken clasp?” he asked hopefully. If he couldn’t find his ship, he might still find a familiar face—a friend.

“A relative, ancestor? I’m afraid I haven’t heard of any sailors with such a name,” the fisherman responded. “But the library or the museum has the best records. I suggest you try there. Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

“No apologies necessary; forgive me for interrupting your evening.”

“If you need anything during your stay, I’m Sloane, and I live on my boat, the Harper, just down the harbor. Come by if you get turned around again.”

“Gideon, and thank you, but I don’t intend to stay in town long.” Gideon bowed politely, and Sloane stared at him as if he had done something wrong. “I’ll leave you before I scare off the fish.” Gideon left him to his fishing.

Hospital, Gideon thought quietly. If there’s a hospital, there’s blood. A couple more of those blood bags, and my memory might become clearer. When he glanced over his shoulder to ask which way the hospital was, the fisherman was gone, and so were his belongings. He didn’t see him walking away; if he didn’t know any better, he’d have thought he was talking with a ghost. If he couldn’t ask for directions, he would trust his nose.

His nose led him down the quiet streets to a building with a large red cross illuminated above the door. The smell grew more intense with every step. There was blood inside, a lot of blood, but the door refused to open. He stepped back, ready to kick it down, when he was tackled to the ground. Drawing his fangs, he snarled at his attacker, only for those piercing blue eyes to stare down at him.

Aerin?

“Stop struggling. You can’t break into the blood bank!” Aerin snapped, pressing his shoulders into the ground as she straddled him. Retracting his fangs, he stopped fighting her grip when he realized she wasn’t a threat. Still, he was amazed by how strong she was. “I already fed you three bags of blood. How can you still be hungry?”

“You’ve clearly never been starved. A vampire’s thirst is hard enough to manage without being starved for a century,” he reasoned, his eyes roaming to her hips, her thighs pinning him down. “And no sane vampire would pass up a whole building packed with blood.”

“No sane vampire would venture into a town they don’t know. What if you were caught?” Aerin argued.

“I didn’t intend to break into the blood bank as you say. I started looking for my ship in the harbor, but had no luck. A fisherman told me that it’s been a century since such a ship sailed these waters; I’ve been buried for a century,” he said, the weight of what he’d learned was far heavier than her on top of him.

“You can’t know that for sure…”

“I can. The way you talk, dress, this town is all wrong. Too much has changed. I thought some blood might help jog my memory. You said it was a bank; surely I can take blood on credit,” he asked, confused as to why anyone would store blood in a bank.