26 JAMAICA

“My god, Jonathan, this wind and these waves, what is going on?”

“Hurricane, and unlike any storm I have ever seen or felt, this is dangerous, and I hope the captain can find us a port!”

Late on October 13, a minimal tropical storm formed in the western Caribbean Sea east-northeast of northern Honduras, and it became a significant storm within a week. On the fifteenth, the storm barrelled in the ship's path, traversing the central Caribbean between Panama and Jamaica. The storm's winds at open sea reached over 160 miles per hour, and the waves were cresting at 30 feet.

A slight turn of the storm caused the winds to approach directly from the stern, and the captain took immediate advantage of this to dash to the port of Kingston, Jamaica. 

“Mr and Mrs St Croix, I must ask that you gather your things and depart yourselves from my ship immediately. You will be refunded the remainder of your passage fee. I will not have further discussions on this matter. Please depart, and good day.”

Before either could reply, the ship’s captain turned and walked away. Two large sailors stood before them, and one offered to assist them with removing their belongings. 

At the end of the gangplank, a covered carriage waited. A native Jamaican, standing over six feet tall and with a shaved head, approached them, “If you are the couple known as St Croix, please come with me to my carriage.”

Evelyn looked at Jonathan, who was very worried, and said, “Devi, he is Devi.”

“Yes, I would have guessed that.” But the worried look on his face remained.

 

The man held open the carriage door. Jonathan helped Evelyn up the step, and the door was closed as soon as he entered the coach. Then Evelyn noticed bars on the door’s window.

“Do not panic, darling. We will be alright if this is what I think it is.”

“Do not panic. We are in a caged wagon and being kidnapped. How can I not panic?”

“Please, dear. When we get to where we are going, do not say anything. Act strong and fearless and follow my lead.”

After about twenty minutes, the carriage stopped, and the same large man opened the door and said, “Out.”

He walked toward a large plantation house that, unlike other ones they had seen, was not a shade of white but darker, almost charcoal.

The man led them into the house to a large sitting room, but they could not sit, as there was only one chair in the room—a large throne-like one made out of dried vines, roots, and branches all woven together, but with a red velvet seat and backrest.

Evelyn leaned toward Jonathan, “A Collette?”

He replied with a soft “Shhh.”

“Yes, woman, listen to your man and do not speak, And do not dare refer to me by the name of that white bitch in Paris; she has no dominion or power here.

Jonathan St Croix, we meet again. It has been a long time, and I do not forget my friends or foes.”

Jonathan straightened himself up and bowed his head forward. Evelyn did likewise, and both kept their gaze towards the ground.

“This is, I would assume, the woman you made Devi for love and fear of losing her. Love is dangerous, and we cannot afford any affair or manipulations of the heart in our lives.

You have come to my island without an invitation; what am I to do with you?”

Evelyn, thinking of how the Authentic in Paris admired her courage to speak up: “It was a storm; the ship came to this port…”

“Silence, I will not be mocked if you speak again without permission. I shall remove your tongue or worse.

St Croix, why are you here?”

“As my wife said, LaJade, a storm in the sea forced the ship's captain to find a safe harbour, and Kingston was the nearest safe port.”

“So, I should punish the captain of a ship for depositing you here? I have done far worse for far less of an offence. But what am I to do with you?”

“As you please, LaJade, as you please.”

“Yes, I will do that. But St Croix, I owe you a favour, and I will never leave a debt unpaid or uncollected.

 Evelyn could feel fear. As a single Devi, this woman was projecting a tremendous amount of energy, which was almost making her ill. She began trembling, shaking, bending over, and gasping for air.

“Be still, wife of St Croix, and cease your fear.”

Almost immediately, Evelyn felt a sense of calm, and she stood straight up. 

“You see, English, I am nothing like that French cow; I can control the things and people around me. I have the true power of the Devi. I have embraced its energies and its power. We do not dwell in the politeness of genteel society and the corridors of corrupted power, but we Devi, the Devi of the islands, are the true Devi. We embrace the power of nature and the power of life itself.”

“Yes, LaJade, I understand, and I see that.”

Jonathan was briefly shocked by Evelyn’s reply until he realized LaJade’s immense power. Using the female Devi's mind connection, she instructed or taught Evelyn all she should know about LaJade.

“Jonathan, as you assisted me in Havana those centuries ago, I will not harm you or your love for interloping on my island and into my realm. To call our debt balanced, I will tell you that a friend of yours was here a few months back, asking for my assistance locating you.”

“A friend, what friend would that be, Ma Grande Dame?”

“Orlan Marcano, he was here looking for you.”

“Marcano? He died thirty years ago, or so I was told by an emissary from Paris.”

“You see, that French white bitch knows nothing. Marcano lives. And I sensed a great darkness in his heart that even caused me concern.”

“Do you know where he is or where he has gone?

“He has gone to the land of Chile and is powerful. As you soft Devi refrain from death except to start your journey, Marcano has embraced the acts of death, and he has grown strong.

As we are now four days past the full moon and we can easily see it is waning, tonight we feast. You have twelve days until the dark of the moon to leave this island, and I believe you should do so with haste.”

The feast was unlike anything that Evelyn had ever attended. It was outdoors, and there were no dining chairs or tables. Mismatched chairs were interspersed with rocks and logs, and people sat on fallen trees. The night was humid, and a layer of wetness covered everything. Some voices were chanting in unison, and others in a cadence only for themselves.

There were four large fires, one with the carcass of an animal roasting on a spit, another with a large caldron on it and around the other two were drummers and others with rattles and wooden horns making an almost hypnotic beat. People began to stand and then move around the fires, dancing. Many disrobed themselves, and the fires reflected off the moisture and sweat on their bodies like a thousand stars in the night sky. 

As the night progressed, other dancers appeared, some with symbols of stars, moons, snakes, and lizards painted on their bodies and others with representations of their ribs, bones, and skulls painted on them. People passed plates of food, and everyone scooped some food off each with their hands before passing the plate to the next person: yams, fruits, various types of meat and fish. A flavoured and spiced concoction that she had never tasted before, she ate without question, fascinated by the scene unfolding around her. 

Since Jonathan created her as a Devi, she had broken most of the rules of her upbringing and had transgressed in countless ways against the god of her childhood, to the point where she had committed the gravest sin, an act of murder. Tonight, for the first time, she had truly felt at peace. Tonight, watching all of this unfold, naked dancing bodies, unlimited food, drinks of unknown potency and tribal raw music that stirred the essence of her soul.

She looked at Jonathan, who was surrounded by strangers feeding him and offering him drinks. He kept fading out of view, returning before her, and moving away again. She then realized that she was naked and dancing around the fires. Naked bodies of other women and men rubbing up against her. Some running their hands up or down her back, some kneeling and genuflecting before her, and others rolling on the ground around her.

At one point, she could no longer see Jonathan, but that did not matter; she was living in the ecstasy of the moment, one with creation and all living things. A white mist enveloped her, and she woke up naked, lying in a bed beside Jonathan.

Thinking back to the event of the previous night, she felt no guilt for being naked and dancing as such with dozens of others and losing control of her body and mind. Celebrating who she was in a natural state. She only felt remorse and sadness that the evening was over and that she may never feel that way again.         

“Jonathan, what happened last night? I did not understand anything, yet I was not scared but felt an overwhelming sense of bliss?

“That is their way, I do not understand it, but it is the magick of the spirits and of the earth. They can manifest it and use it.”

“But, why have I not felt anything like that before? We have lived with negroes around us in Philadelphia and the natives near us in both New Zealand and Australia, why are things different here?”

“The Islanders have not forgotten the ways of their ancestors and forebearers from Africa. We destroyed their cultures and their ways and tore them from their homes and lands. The only thing remaining is their faith in their old gods.”

“Surely you are not serious. Their old gods are just superstition.”

“How are the gods of the Nigerians or of the Congo any less than the god worshipped in England or by the Church of Rome? Both are equally as valid and exist, or neither do. There cannot only be one faith in the world, to the exclusion of all others.”

“You are saying some stone idol with a lion’s head in a jungle is the same as a cross with a Christ on it?”

“Yes, as nothing is holy with either, both represent an idea. A crucifix is a piece of wood, and a statue is a rock.” 

“That is blasphemy.”

“You are over one hundred years old and look like you are thirty-five. You do not age, and you live off the life force of others. As being Devi, we should not accuse anyone of blasphemy.”

“But how did the LaJade change my mind and calm me last night before the feast?”

“She and the others here tap into the forces of nature and the forces of the soul.

There is much we Europeans do not understand or have chosen not to understand. In French West Africa, the Ewe people in Togoland and the neighbouring Gold Coast have a spirit called the Adze, which can take flight and possess the energies of the human soul. The adze's influence affects people who live around their home. So perhaps where we, as Devi, can only feed on the lost life energies of those when they die, the adze can live and feed off the life energies of others while they are alive?

In British and Dutch Guiana and Caribbean islands, including Saint Lucia, Dominica, Haiti, and Trinidad, magickal creatures are called Soucouyants or Jumbies. Elsewhere, the Soucouyants are known by other names, such as the Bahamian "Hag," which strongly connects to the Aje or the witch of the Yoruba people of the Belgian Congo.

By using and combining all the power and energies of these gods or using them to focus and grow her Devi power, she is causing panic and fear in the hearts of white Europeans like us. 

 So if the LaJade and her people can draw from others, perhaps they can project that energy, and maybe she granted you some of her energies to calm you.”

“But that would make them more potent than the Devi.”

“Yes, and that is why the Authentic has no power here. It is how LaJade knew we were here, how she could have the captain expel us from his ship. They control all the islands here. We move from country to country; they travel from island to island.”

“Why is she called LaJade? What does that mean?”

“In the language of the San people in Southern Africa, the word in the Khoisan language for ‘Great Woman’ is a "Khâi ǀO” A Governor in Martinique many years ago bastardized that word to sound like ‘LaJade.”

“And what of Marcano? The Grande Dame says he has been here and is looking for us and is more powerful. What does that mean.”

“Marcano is killing for strength. Recall, when you killed, the feeling of power and almost majesty you felt. With Marcano now, he craves that feeling, and to him, it is like an opium addiction. The more he kills, the more he needs to kill.”

“And for us, what does that mean.”

“It means we must leave Jamaica before the next new moon and make our way to Paris.”

“One more thing, Jonathan, LaJade said she owed you a favour; what was that debt?”

“I believe it was 1762, in the Spanish colony of Havana, the British placed the city under siege, and the British force was more than 25,000 men, of which 2,400 were enslaved Africans forced to fight. The siege lasted eleven months, and thousands died of disease on both sides. In the end, the British gave Cuba back to Spain in exchange for Florida, under the terms of the Treaty of Paris.”

“But what of you and LaJade?”

“LaJade had been a spy for the British and Spain. As such, one of the orders given by Lieutenant-General George Keppel, 3rd Earl of Albemarle, the commander of the British land forces, was to arrest her for trial. I was working at the time for Havana’s governor, Juan de Prado, and I was able, with letters of transit spirit, both myself and LaJade, off of Cuba and make our way to the furthest reaches of the islands to Saint Lucia. It was British at the time but was ceded to France in 1763. The British retook the island in 1778, and it switched sides many times.

We were safe there for almost thirty years until January 1791, when the French Assembly sent revolutionary commissaries to St Lucia to spread the revolutionary philosophy. In the summer of that year, LaJade began to organize the disenfranchised and those tired of continual ongoing occupation and wars on the island.

Slaves began to abandon plantations, and the impoverished whites and free people of colour began to arm themselves as patriots. Then she took her ideals to other islands and, using her army of blacks, freed slaves and runaways, she started her crusade against the colonial powers.

So, I got her out of Cuba, allowing her to rise to power as the Devi Queen of the Caribbean. And that was the outstanding debt she owed me.” 

25 ALBURY

In October 1910, they moved to the new land of opportunity, Australia. Unable to decide on Sydney, Melbourne or Adelaide, they chose Albury, New South Wales, on the north shore of the Murray River, opposite Wodonga, Victoria.

The two Australian states had differing railway gauges, a ‘broad gauge’ in Victoria and a standard gauge in NSW. This required transferring all passengers and goods from one carriage width to another. So, St Croix seized upon the opportunity to purchase an existing hotel for passengers wishing to take a day off between transferring and getting a good night's sleep and a quality meal. He also bought land for a newer hotel, a vineyard and winery, and two apple orchards for making cider.

In good weather with a clear track, Evelyn could be in Melbourne in about four hours and roughly double that to reach Sydney. She was more than pleased with the location of their new life in Albury. They maintained a large home near the central business district just off Kiewa Street. However, they spent most of their time on an estate near Splitter’s Creek.

It had been years since Evelyn’s Devi sense detected other Devi in proximity to herself. The feeling was always more substantial when other Devi women were nearby. Whenever she felt the presence of another, it always caught her off guard for a moment, and she was touched by both fear and delight.

In the winter of 1913, a trio of well-dressed and well-informed travellers arrived at their modern hotel. When Jonathan took Evelyn to Abigail O’Leary’s home in Wicklow, he introduced himself with a coded message. There was one to alert Jonathan of any Devi guests as well. When they signed in, they had asked the manager to “Please inform the hotel’s owner that friends of his mother, Collette St Croix, had arrived.”

At that time, more than 200 telephones were established in the twin cities of Albury and Wodonga. Evelyn was in the Kiewa home then, took the call, and dispatched a driver to fetch the trio and bring them to the house.

“Greeting, I am Evelyn St Croix, and welcome to my home. I have sent a message to my husband Jonathan about your arrival. He should be here within the half-hour.”

A tall gentleman put out his hand, “I am Robert Allen Stewart. This is my wife Rose and our travelling associate Lucy Boudreau.”

Evelyn entertained them with light conversation and talked about the house. While waiting for her husband, she offered them wine and a light snack.

Once Jonathan arrived and introductions were again made, they all retired to the parlour to discuss the matters of the world.

The guests informed their hosts that everything was good in England and that George V seemed a competent monarch based on his first three years. Germany was awash with joy over Kaiser Wilhelm II's Silver Jubilee.

France was still the contentious child of Europe. For all the joy in Germany, the French countered it with much anti-German sentiment. However, the Authentic was doing quite well in Paris and adapting new Devi relocation standards, making more funding and options available. 

Lucy Boudreau raised her hand as if asking permission to speak. “I had met with the Authentic just a few months ago, and she said she had been following your progress out here in the far reaches of the world. She asked me to convey her appreciation of your donations to the cause and your exemplary successes in the gold field affairs.”

With that, Jonathan and Evelyn noticed the mood and tone in the room change. Lucy was not the travelling companion of the Stewarts, but they were accompanying her.

She continued, providing that they were correct in that assumption. “The Authentic had sent me here to manage the affairs of the Devi in this region. We expect some of our people to migrate here over the next decade, and we must establish an infrastructure to accommodate the Devi. The advantage to all of this is the land size of Australia, the distance to New Zealand and north to the islands of the Philippines. Moving from city to city a thousand miles away will not present much of an issue of meeting people from a lifetime or two ago. We can quickly establish birth and death records and transfer money as overseas investments in this new and dynamic land.

The two of you did pretty well in Christchurch, showing the Authentic that we can live in smaller towns and stay out of the public eye.”

Evelyn asked Lucy, “Why do you think there will be an influx of Devi down here?”

“Have you not heard about the dissension against the Czar in Russia? Populist causes and rebellion seem likely there in a few years.

In the Ottoman Empire, there were two wars in the Balkans. The Turks left peace talks in London and aligned themselves more with Germany and the Austrians. So, England, France, and Russia are talking about a three-sided pact.”

Jonathan replied, “We have not heard much of these rumours other than idle talk in the clubs, but I am sure there is much talk about it in the cities. We are now practicing in keeping to ourselves more and avoiding the limelight.”

Rose Stewart told Jonathan, “Speaking of the limelight, you are aware that your former associate in the theatre, Mr Stoker, passed away last year.”

“Yes, I saw a notice in the Sydney Mail. They had quite a story about him. I enjoyed his book, The Undead, Dracula.”

“The Authentic also enjoyed the story and was amused at your connection to it.”

“We all serve as we can.”

Over the next week, the three new Devi poured over documents they had brought from Sydney. An extensive collection of town maps, rail maps, records from the census of 1911, ship timetables and land value assessments of coast towns from Cairns in the north all down the east coast to Melbourne. They were looking for business opportunities. Either to purchase existing businesses or look for cities that needed a new business, from feedlots to livery and hardware to doctors and lawyers. The more assets they had, the easier it would be to shuffle ownership between Devi every ten to fifteen years.  

They mentioned that they were not the only ‘surveyors’ in the country and that there were three other teams. One was on a ship travelling to the outports of Darwin, Broome, Onslow and Perth. Another investigated the Port Philip area of Melbourne and Geelong along the southern coast past Portland to Adelaide. The third team had the most unenviable task of studying the continent's interior for ranching and mining opportunities. 

This third group was not as concerned with establishing businesses with cover stories as it was with creating areas to invest money and, more importantly, creating areas far away from prying eyes and social interaction, where Devi could be at ease and be themselves and perhaps even hold out the hope of raising some Devi children far away from any emotional turmoil.

This had been Devi hope in America, but due to the rapid expansion of the United States population, there were almost no truly isolated areas in North America. Isolated sheep stations that were a four-day ride from their nearest neighbour would afford the type of isolation that they sought.

Within two years, more than 200 Devi were in Australia, and it seemed to Evelyn that every one of them passed through Albury. Because of Jonathan’s skills in the printing industry, which he had demonstrated fifty years earlier in Philadelphia, Lucy Boudreau commissioned him to print up all required documentation for all new arrivals.

During those two years, war came to Europe, and England called upon all the Dominions of the Empire to contribute to the war effort. In the Albury Wodonga area, this meant an element of a home guard unit to assist in transferring war materials from one gauge of train carriages to the other. For his contribution to the effort, St Croix provided lodging to house these men in one of his hotels.

Lucy Boudreau had been correct in her prediction that war would be coming to Europe, that the Ottomans and the English would be at war, and that Russia and Germany would also be at odds.

The war was global in scope, spreading to colonies in Asia and Africa. German New Guinea and German Samoa fell to British forces without a fight. The largest battle in the Pacific rim was the Siege of Tsingtao, or the German port of Qingdao, which lasted seventy-one days, from August 27 to November 7, 1914. This battle removed all warships hostile to the English side from the Pacific Ocean and allowed for safe transit for all shipping. 

The war had started with the assassination on 28 June 1914 of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria in Sarajevo, Serbia. Still, actual war between the empires of Europe did not formally commence until the first week of August. A week later, the Panama Canal was opened.

The war dragged on for four years, and afterwards, not many substance changes were evident on the world maps. Germany had lost its overseas possessions and some land to France. The Hungarian Empire was fragmented into smaller nations, and the Ottoman Empire almost disappeared, remaining only in Turkey. The French and the British carved up the rest of their territory.

Boudreau was also correct in her prediction of a populist revolt in Czarist Russia. The monarchy had been overthrown, the royal family executed, and a new form of a collective people’s government called Communism was ruling Russia.

After almost fifteen years in Albury and working with the Australian Collette, Lucy Boudreau, to establish and settle many Devi in Australia, they received a message from the Authentic in Paris that she would like to meet with them and that they could stay in Paris for the next few years.  

Rather than taking the usual route from Australia to Europe on the Orient Steam Navigation Company lines via the Suez Canal, they chose the Commonwealth & Dominion line that sailed from New Zealand to Europe via the Panama Canal. It would take a week longer due to the travel to New Zealand and the wait for a departing ship, but it would be worth the effort to see what was being called the newest wonder and marvel of the new world, the New Colossus and most remarkable work of mankind. The ship was primarily a cargo ship with some passenger staterooms, so they chose this line as a diversion.

24 WELLINGTON

By the third week of November 1902, they boarded the White Star Lines, RMS Corinthic, for its maiden voyage from London to Wellington.

Two days later, on the twentieth of November, England once again faded from view as they left Plymouth for the Canary Islands for a brief stay at Tenerife one week later. They then went further south to Capetown on December 13. Finally, they made the long journey across the Indian Ocean, stopping in Hobart, Tasmania, and then to Wellington, disembarking on the second day of the new year.

The experience of the Devi in these lands was limited in scope. Since Abel Tasman ‘discovered’ islands for Europeans in 1642, fewer than two dozen Devi had travelled here. Most had been sailors aboard southern whaling ships.

Four Devi had travelled to the islands in the 1850s and 1860s but had disappeared, and four more arrived in the late 1880s and divided with two on the North Island and two on the southern one.

Jonathan brought letters of introduction to establish a mineral assaying office in Christchurch. He was to represent three English firms looking at the potential of opening new mines in the Hokitika and Greymouth areas. Although this was on the western shore and lay directly across the island from Christchurch, access was made easier by the use of the Arthur Pass.

The climate and temperament of the people agreed with both Jonathan and Evelyn. Although Christchurch was one of the larger towns, with a population of less than 25,000, it hosted all the required amenities.

Their home was in the northern part of the Linwood District. It featured a limestone façade over a heavy timber frame and was centred in a large garden near a forested area. It was large enough to have four bedrooms, sitting rooms, a conservatory, a parlour for entertaining, and an extensive dining area that could easily accommodate a dozen or more people. There were two kitchens and a glass-panelled room facing north full of plants, of which Evelyn had no idea what to call them. Next to the main building was a guest cottage, servant quarters, and a large stable.

It was comfortable in its size and very well appointed, but Evelyn could not fully understand why the house was all on one level. She had been told that it was due to the damage that earthquakes could cause. But Lisbon was also prone to earthquakes, and their home there was three stories. She was then told that it was all about land. Lisbon was a crowded city with narrow streets and hills. Christchurch was vast and expansive, and homes could be built without concerns about the amount of land.

From their home, it was just an easy walk of less than a mile to the shores of the Avon River.

The dresses Evelyn brought were society's rage, as fashion in Australia was a year or two behind London and fashion in New Zealand a year behind that. She immersed herself in the Christchurch Botanical Garden Society. And also became active in politics, supporting and promoting the Liberal Party and its leader, Richard John Setton. She told Jonathan that he reminded him of her father in both stature and temperament.

But what amazed them both was that women in New Zealand were considered cognizant and mature enough to have the right to vote. Promoting that as a cause was still an act of rebellion in England and America. Even more uncommon was that the dark-skinned Natives, the Māori, had representation. In America, most non-whites were rarely considered to be persons, and in Westminster, the Irish were barely tolerated.

She found it novel and exciting that she could carry on discourse about politics with men and women in public and not be summarily dismissed as a dreamer or a radical. 

“Oh, Jonathan, Father would have quite a fit if he knew that I could vote. And perhaps more so that a woman's vote is equal to that of a man and that a wife is free to choose the candidate of her choice.”

“Times, my love, are changing. I am sure the progressives in Westminster are watching to see if this was a wise choice.”

“Of course, it is a wise choice. Women can think for themselves. Most of the problems of the world are started by men.”

“Yes, yes, my dear, I know that. It may take a little longer back in Mother England, and its opposition is quite vocal.”

Jonathan’s office was set up in the city’s center near Oxford Terrace. However, it had been thirty to forty years since the early gold rushes in the Otago, West Coast and Thames gold rushes from the years 1861 to 1872. Placer gold deposits had been found all across the South Island. Placer gold, is tiny flakes of gold that had broken free of the central vein and was found in rivers and stream beds. There may not have been any areas that could support a significant commercial venture, but the possibility always existed for another large-scale find.

There were enough small gold, silver, and copper claims established that St Croix was able to establish a good reputation as a fair agent. If a sample looked positive enough, he would offer the miner or miners a ‘grubstake,’ Forwarding or loaning them enough money to work their claim in exchange for a percentage.

In 1903, Charles Mullens and his partner Jack Ramsey made a notable strike with a high-valued ore in the Kaniere region. It was in an area overlooked during the West Coast Hokitika rush of the 1860s. Seeing the claim's potential just south of Hokitika, St Croix offered the men 25 pounds each to develop the site.

“But Governor, that is a small fortune. What stops us from just running off the drink ourselves blind?”

“Do you like the drink, Mr Ramsey?”

“Yes, I have been known to find myself on the wrong end of a chair at close.”

“And you Mullens? What is your opinion of the drink?’

“I hold it in high regard, but I would rather hold it in my gut.”

“Gentleman. I pose this to you. I will loan you this money as agreed. You cross the Arthur in five months, come back here, and I pay you a fair and honest price for the spoils of your labour. I will invest your monies, and next season, you hire men to assist you and bring back more gold. After another season or two, you cash out and have a bag of sovereigns the size of your head.

You could take a steamer back to Yorkshire, marry who you may and live the life of a squire. Or stay here and buy serious acreage north of Canterbury and dream of whatever you want.

Or, as you suggested, rob me and drink yourself blind and awake in a room at His Majesties Service and break worthless rock under a whip and a gun.”

“I think we will take the former and refine ourselves as gentry and landowners.”

“A deal it is then.” St Croix produced the documents, and the details were enacted,

Within two years, he was able to diversify into a woollen manufacturing company and a meat-packing business. Soon thereafter, he was invited to join the Canterbury Club, a gentlemen's business club.

Over the next three years, their business grew. Because of their connections with the upper elements of society, they put money towards a memorial and crematory service which catered to the more well-to-do gentry.  As morbid as it seemed to Evelyn, she assumed the role of organizer for bereavements and burials. The city, the region and the nation itself were too calm and quiet for many causes of unnatural or untimely deaths. They could notice slight physiological changes without any semblance of emotional outcry, grief, or celebration.

Evelyn grew weary of the limited adventures in the city, so she and Jonathan started taking the almost 3,000-mile round trip to Australia every year or so and spending a week or ten days in Wellington on the outward voyage and up to a month in Sydney.

In August 1908, they were in Sydney to visit the American Great White Fleet, a collection of 16 mainline battleships and various escorts. The fleet's name was because all the ships' hulls were painted white.

They returned home for Christmas 1908; business was good on all fronts. Jonathan had decided to grow a moustache for the new year, and Evelyn had decided to buck convention and not go with the popular Edwardian hairstyle for women, the pompadour. Where the hair flipped around on itself like a bun, often with a top-notch smaller bun on top, she cut her hair into a shorter bob style and artificially curled the hair. Occasionally, she wore trousers specifically designed for women when not attending social functions or business duties.

In 1909, Jonathan limited his enterprises' workload to four days a week; he was using his time off from his affairs to write a study on minerals and assaying. In those days, Evelyn used the opportunity to travel to their businesses to oversee things with a woman’s eye. 

In early September, she rushed home and burst into Jonathan’s study. “News, my dear, wonderful news. From the goldfields.”

“What is it, my dear? What has you all excited and flushed?”

“Gold, they found gold.”

“Who found gold? That is what I would expect from a gold field. What are you talking about, and who are you talking about?”

“Two miners, a John Scott and an Arthur Sharpe, found a nugget, and an actual nugget, said to be larger than a man's fist.”

“Nonsense, my dear, there is no gold nugget that size anywhere in this country.”

“Seriously, Jonathan, how can you be so intransigent? Just because you have not seen it does not mean it does not exist.

The papers are running a special edition, and, oh my God, how could I have forgotten this? People are rushing to your office, hoping to buy any claims you have or shares. This Scott nugget was found not far from some of your holdings.”

By the end of the year, Jonathan had sold off most of his mineral holdings and the assaying office for a staggering sum of almost 56,000 pounds. After dispersions to claim owners, he was left with 30,000. This was an astounding sum as a House member in Westminster only drew a salary of 400 for a year.

It had taken a year to settle all the transactions and balance all the books, “We should move on, Darling; Christchurch is no longer large enough to hide in open sight.”

“I know, we have only been here 10 years, but I was thinking the same thing, Jonathan; it seems everyone wants to see us, meet with us. Inviting us to all their parties and outings. Not only will they soon notice our enduring good looks, but I haven’t enough clothes to wear.”

“Where to then? If we stay far from Europe, the Authentic will give us her belated blessings. So perhaps Australia, then?”

“Sydney or Melbourne? Both offer good opportunities and are much more bustling than here.” 

23 1900

 If anyone had seen them, they would have thought they were mad. Two mature men stood on a small bridge, waving their arms in the air, pointing in various directions, and giggling.

Jonathan and Bram’s discussions continued late into the night over several bottles of Sherry, to the point that even the wolves were no longer baying.

Two days later, Jonathan and Evelyn bid their host adieu and took a coach to Aberdeen, a local train to Edinburgh, and the Flying Scotsman back to London.

“Jonathan, do you think Bram thinks a book about blood-sucking creatures of the night who can turn into bats or whatever and sleep in coffins will be a successful novel? It sounds too fantastical to make any sense.”

“Well, he has made a name for himself in writing this sort of horror or whatever it is called. And now there are those new sleuthing stories by some, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I think those may hold up better as a type of novel. Murderous thieves and criminals, and a mystery to be solved along the way.” 

“I guess you are right, Jonathan. People would rather read stories of criminals and thieves walking among society and in the corridors of power than grasp onto the notion that there are groups of mystic immortals baking their bread, writing their plays, and tending to their needs all out in the open,”

The next few years moved slowly; the Nineteenth century did not want to pass on.

Her Majesty Victoria had been on the throne of the Empire for more than sixty years, and the Empire was thriving. The world was changing incredibly, with new and marvellous ideas, thoughts, and products and greater and greater achievements in science, literature, and the arts. Life was indeed at the climax or apex of what civilization could be. The world had been discovered, the lands walked upon, and all the seas had been sailed.

Evelyn looked at herself in the mirror on her dressing table, put down her hair brush and looked at herself momentarily.

Speaking earnestly to her reflection, “I will be seventy-five this year; I look exactly as I did at twenty-four. Almost everyone I have known from what Jonathan calls ‘me before times’ is gone.

I have met perhaps one hundred people with whom I could talk of this, yet I feel guilty of living on while so many pass. I am sure that at some point, they will all ponder this question. What is the nature of this immortal blessing?

How can we help others learn from the past without being considered mad? How can we convey to others the brief and priceless gift of life, of three or four scores of years and then darkness? Perhaps that is why humanity needs to procreate and create art so that we can, in some form, carry on—not as a species but as individuals standing against the void.

But if a short-lived Standard needs to make a mark to be remembered, what then of Devi? What is our purpose? Books, art and histories of man remind the present of the past. Children serve as proof of the lineage of ancestors, but what is the call of the Devi? What manner do we serve time?”

Jonathan interrupted her darker musings on questions she could not answer by entering her salon room.

“I have a message here. A cable from the American Collette in Boston. Late last week, November 27/28, a fierce storm laid upon the area, and more than 150 ships were sunk or damaged, and a body recovered seems to be that of Orlan Marcano.”

“Then we have nothing to fear from his crazed anger?”

“Perhaps not. Perhaps we are safe.”

Time progressed, and 1898 slipped into 1899 and then the new century. It promised new hope and stability worldwide, the end of wars, empires set and firm, India secure, and China and Nippon open to new trade. The war between the Old World and the New World, the Spanish-American War, was resolved, and this century would hold nothing but peace for all mankind.

The century of the ‘Nineteen Hundreds” would be a glorious lit path leading to the far future of the 2,000s and a peaceful third millennium of modern times. At her society meetings, the most significant debate was how to pen a “nine.” From the top circle and then the retrograde tail. Or up from the tail to the final circle. Tea and ink were spread as a cold thought dawned upon Evelyn: all the women in the room would be long dead by the time she someday needed to start her year dates with a “2.”

London, England, and the Empire were awash in sorrow in 1901 as the Great Lady, the Great White Mother, the Imperatrix under whose eye most of the Empire subjects had been born, had died.

The sense of bereavement was almost palatable to any Devi in London. The black buntings on every building and rail gave the city an even more sullen look than any usually sunless day. But it had been thirteen years, and it was time to move somewhere new.

Europe was Europe, and they had been recently in Lisbon. They had left America forty years earlier, so the far western coast was an option. Russia and the Far East were out, as were the Middle East and India. The best of a diminished list was Australia and New Zealand.

Ranching, mining, and shipping offered several possibilities, and spending time in one country would make the following move to the other relatively easy. 

22 BRAM STOKER

London was more of a madhouse than it had been before. The power of steam had industrialized all aspects of society. Along both sides of the Thames, where scores of wooden ships with hundreds of rigged masts had lain, massive iron behemoths lay in silence until fierce columns of black smoke belched from their stacks.

They would pose as a couple returning to mother England, and Jonathan would assume the identity of his former self’s son. The “elder” St Croix had run off to America, and his son, disenchanted with America, returned home. As his wife, Evelyn would be a young lady from Savannah, Georgia. That would help account for her accent, as she lost her native sound and spoke with a Portuguese inflection. She could attribute it to ‘her imaginary mother,’ an English woman who had lived in Cuba.    

Their new home was in a fashionable area of Chelsea, midway up the eastern course of Royal Avenue. Many theatre people lived in the area.

The Aldwych, the Strand, the Lyceum, and other theatres were all in one area of the city, known as ‘the West End’. This included the Duchess and the Royal Theatre on Drury Lane, which was exceptionally close to the law offices of Baxter, Narrows, and Tyrol.

From their home to the theatre district, if one could fly in a line like a Tower raven, it would be less than three miles. Still, to take a carriage from one place to the other, it was almost five miles, as to the size of St James Garden and the Residence of the Queen, Buckingham Palace, situated almost directly between the two points.

St Croix was momentarily terrified when he looked at a list of theatre managers and noticed that Abraham “Bram” Stoker was the business manager at the Lyceum. He was more shocked to find out that Stoker lived on St Leonard’s Terrace, not a two-minute walk, a mere 150 yards from his residence. He was relieved to hear that the elder Stoker had died 12 years earlier.

Through the theatre business and mutual friends, they became friends themselves.

St Croix could regale the younger Stoker with tales about his late father, saying that his father had been quite impressed with the elder Irishman.

One mutual friend was the essayist and playwright Oscar Wilde. Wilde was obsessed with his looks, worrying about every small line or blemish that appeared. He asked Jonathan why summer never changed his countenance or colour and why he rarely, if ever, looked tired or drawn, even at the peak of the theatre season with its extended hours. St Croix replied, “I have a magic mirror in the attic of my home that bears witness to all my life troubles, woes, and maladies.” 

Two years later, Wilde published a fantastic novel about a young man who purchases an eternally youthful appearance at the expense of his soul. In his home, he has an ever-changing portrait that bears every sin and transgression he commits.

Wilde also knew Stoker, as Stoker married Florence Balcombe. A beautiful young woman from Marino Cresent. One of her former suitors was Wilde. Stoker and Wilde also attended University together.

Stoker had travelled extensively but had never been to the newly independent state of Romania. He had read volumes on the folkloric stories of the regions and had become fascinated with the myths of vampiric lore.

He was delighted to hear that Jonathan had been to the lands between the Adriatic and the Black Seas and wished Jonathan would tell him all he knew about the lands. St Croix and his wife were invited to vacation with them in Cruden Bay, Scotland, in the summer of 1895. For a week during his month-long holidays to the Aberdeenshire coastal village, which had always given him time to write many of his books, now he spent many hours talking with St Croix about his new novel, which he called ‘Un-Dead.’

Over evening dinner, Stoker mentioned using many of the folklore rumours of vampires from the Carpathian legends, from an aversion to garlic and staking to kill them. However, he wanted more individual characteristics. On the following sunny afternoon, as the two men were walking the ground of the very recognizable octagonal-shaped Slain Castle. Stoker asked Jonathan if he had any ideas to layer into the complexities of the lives of undead blood-suckers.

“Bram, you invited me here to share your time and energies, but I would not be here if you had not invited me. So how do these undead approach people?”

“Yes, I invited you here to discuss and explore new ideas for my novel… Wait, I see what you are getting at. You would not be here if I had not invited you, so if you were a vampire, I would have had to ask you in to be close enough to harm me. Brilliant. They must be invited into homes.

Yes, that is good. Thank you.”

“But what about where they are from? You should incorporate some tie or a connection to the European mountains. A unique and unusual character trait or possession would help the righteous hunt these monsters down.”

“When you returned from America again to England, had your father taken anything from England when he emigrated? A flag, a picture of the Queen? Most people bring something as a memento. Perhaps you are right; these monsters need an attachment to their homeland. Flasks of water or timber from trees, rocks, jewellery or vials of ‘local blood.’ Something connecting them to their homeland.”

“You said that these undead were the antithesis of all that is good and holy and that they sleep in coffins. Well, we put coffins in the ground, so what if they needed a connection to the earth of their homeland?”

“Yes, wonderful. I could have them travel with a coffin full of Romanian earth! Jonathan. that is another brilliant idea. I should mention you in the book and name a main character after you.” 

“Name the undead monster after me?”

“No, he will need a foreign name, so his adversary will be named Jonathan. It is a good, solid English name. Thank you, St Croix.

“I would be honoured to give your character my name.”

“Your name is St Croix, French for cross, is it not?”

“Yes, it is, but you knew that.”

“Yes, yes, I did. So, what if they cannot face or be near a holy relic? Or enter a church and can be wounded by holy water or a cross? Yes, and when our fathers met, your father was a gold merchant. So, the undead can be repelled by gold crosses.”

“But Bram, not everyone has a golden cross or crucifix, perhaps pewter or silver? Or just the sight of a cross will stop their attack.”

They stopped on a small bridge to discuss the virtues of gold versus silver. Two ducks flew in over their heads and landed on a pond.

St Croix said, “Ducks and wildlife, I tried my hand at many artistic past-times, including outdoor watercolours, but I could never get the reflections of trees and buildings in the water correct. I would even have a hard time painting the reflections of those ducks.”

“Reflections? Jonathan, what is on the back of the mirrors we use in the theatres?”

“It used to be mercury until about forty or fifty years ago, but now I believe it is silver nitrate. Why?”

Stoker laughed, “Silver it is, silver crosses and not only crosses but all manner of silver. With silver on mirrors, the undead have no reflection.”

“Yes, and that is because they have no souls!”

21 MURDER

 Jonathan could not adequately judge his wife's reaction to that statement. Revulsion, fear, anger, awe and horror. Her body tensed like she was reacting to being stabbed. She was stone-faced and unblinking, yet her lips quivered as she made a slight guttural sound from the back of her throat. Her face grew in colour, a deep rouge tint spreading from her cheeks, and then that tone suddenly paled to a pallor, and she collapsed onto the floor.

She awoke hours later, lying in her bed in her sleeping clothes. The heavy drapes of the room were drawn, and the only light was from an abundance of candles. Her head spun as she regained consciousness.

Jonathan sat silently in a high-back leather chair in one corner of the room, his eyes fixed upon her.

She sat up, looked around, and reached for a water pitcher and a glass. Her hands trembled, almost spilling more water onto the bed and floor than into the glass. After taking two or three mouthfuls, she glared back at Jonathan.

A resignation mask fell across her face, and she summoned the courage and asked. “Is it hard to do?”

“Yes and no. That may not be the answer you want to hear, but I will be there with you if you wish.”

She laughed, turned silent, and again broke out in louder laughter. “If I want? If I want.? No, I thought I would stroll to an afternoon tea and use a fish scaler to maul the hostess and her guests. Then, I would cover myself in their entails and waltz down the Rua do Carmo while singing lullabies. Coming home to a nice roast of lamb.”

The room spun, and she fell again into the void of darkness.

Jonathan instinctively reached down to feel for the bottle of laudanum in his pocket. Speaking to himself, “She will sleep another ten hours until morning.”

Jonathan left the house and walked to one of the lesser-quality tabernas the city had to offer. He sat in a corner, mulling a glass of port, observing the patrons' interactions. The working class and the ne’er do well on one side in the more spacious areas, sitting at small, more intimate tables. But he was paying more attention to the poorer people seated at the larger tables in the less-lit parts of the room. Among them were grifters, drifters, petty thieves, prostitutes and the anonymous. He picked up his port and walked over to join them.

Sitting beside the bed when Evelyn awoke—he immediately offered her a cup of tea.

Her face was lined with creases from the blankets, showing that she had a sound sleep.

“I am to murder someone? Someone of youth and fortune, am I to steal all hope from them? Why is this true, Jonathan?”

“It is our way, now. Years before, it was not the case. Perhaps we have evolved or perhaps regressed. I do not recall my actions in this rite of passage, but I was a warrior, so perhaps I accomplished it on a battlefield. Once done, it is never spoken of again. It is a stigma and a stain upon our race. Our greatest shame.”

“I have come to accept that if I must, you risked yourself for me and your love for me, so how can I not take a step beyond the pale?”

“Thank you.”

“But how shall I, and when and most importantly, who? Who Jonathan shall I pick or select to kill?”

“Last evening, I visited a tavern of questionable repute, and I believe that one of the patrons there may be your, or excuse me, our best course of action.” 

By the end of the first week of June, Evelyn had steeled herself to the end of the task. Jonathan would encounter a young woman on the street near the tavern, offering her more than a single night's wages to accompany him to his home to transact the business of her profession.

She was impressed by his leading her to a carriage for the ride to his home. In the carriage, he offered her a drink. When she took it, she enquired as to why he was not drinking as well. He replied that alcohol often impeded his “duties of a man.”    

He used just a tiny amount of the laudanum that he had used on Evelyn, and this girl became disorientated. One moment, she was sitting quietly with her eyes closed and then suddenly bursting into giggling.

Anibal stopped the carriage in front of the house as Jonathan and his companion entered, and then he took the carriage to the rear.

“A lady, what is this lady doing here?” What is she doing here?”

“This is my wife; she had encouraged me to find you and bring you to our home.”

“Senhor, you did not say that your wife would join us… I do not know…”

“I will again double your fee for the night. If that suits your needs, Isadora?”

“My head is spinning, and I do not know why, but yes, indeed, she may join us for twice the fee, " she said as she thrust a greedy hand out to Jonathan.

Jonathan lay naked on the bed, and their guest stood naked by the bed beside him; he was watching Evelyn pick up a long, thin, black leather strap.

She smiled, saying, “He likes this, you know.” As she slapped the belt across his thighs.

With a flick of the wrist, she swiped the belt across the woman’s buttocks. “Now, you get up on him and straddle yourself across his chest.”

As she had done that, Evelyn moved onto the bed behind her, wrapping one end of the belt around the breadth of her hand. Leaning forward, she gathered the young woman’s thick black hair to one side with her other hand, brushing her lips on her neck and whispering how beautiful she thought her to be. She slowly wrapped the other end of the belt around her other hand.

“Jonathan, tell me you love me and will love me forever.”

“You, my love Evelyn, I will love you forever.”

“And you, sweet girl, want to become part of our love?”

The young woman hesitated for a moment as Evelyn ran her tongue across the back of her neck and then, with a soft moan, “Yes, I want to be part of your love.”

With the speed of a cobra, Evelyn raised both arms over Isadora’s head, bringing the belt across her thin neck. She snapped her arms across each other, tightening the garrot on her victim.

Evelyn moved backwards across the bed, pulling Isadora by the neck. The girl’s hands pathetically clawing at the belt.

Stepping off the bed, Evelyn jerked up on the belt until she heard a loud, sharp crack.

Dragging the body off the bed and across the floor, then grabbed a weighted candlestick off of a table and swiftly smashed into the dead girl’s face. While crying and shouting, “I am sorry, I am sorry, I don’t know you,” repeatedly.

Before Jonathan could get to Evelyn, the candlestick had hit the woman’s face a dozen or more times.

As soon as he reached her, she collapsed onto the naked body of her victim.     

  Jonathan carried his wife to their bed and washed the blood off her body and out of her hair as Anibal carried the girl out to the carriage to dispose of her before sunrise. It would be best if the body were found quickly and on the other side of the city. 

“I felt violence that I had never known before and, at the same time, a sense of liberation. I recall hitting her, and I am not sure if that was a dream or why I felt that.”

“We call it The Burning. It is a mix of the guilt of taking a life and suppressing our civilized nature while being overwhelmed by a sense of the wave of a new life and longer life, a new being born within us. It is like opium, a drug once you use, you crave more over time, but The Burning is in an instant. You know that the first feeling you get, the joy and the ecstasy, is from the life you take, and you want more, and that is the cause of the violent urge.

Now, you will hear distant sounds even more, see further in the day and better at night, and all your senses will be further heightened. You can also feel people around you and sense another Devi. Over time, you will join the web where all female Devi can share and express ideas.

You must chart your development and skills now on your own. The body of the girl is gone, and for both our sakes, this matter is closed.”

“Did she have a name? What was her name?”

“I do not know.”

All things remained as they had been; nothing was ever brought to anyone’s attention by the finding of the lifeless body of a woman outside of mainstream society.

Evelyn learned that when encountering another Devi in the city, the correct course of action was to smile and nod with quiet recognition. In a social situation such as a woman’s salon or tea room, it was acceptable for one lady to invite another for conversation.

What Jonathan had failed to mention about being overwhelmed by sensual input was the heightened awareness of sensuous arousal.

Days stretched into weeks, weeks into months and months… years.

On Portugal Day, June 10, 1881, the nation celebrated or more correctly commemorated, the death date of poet and national literary icon Luis de Camoes (1580). Evelyn heard a carriage draw up before the house. Because of the holiday, they had given their staff a few days' leave, and Evelyn answered the door.

Her heart froze, and she tried to close the door on the guest.

“I do not want you in here. Get out. You are the bearer of ill-timing and doom. Let the gods damn you before I allow you into my house.”

“I apologize, Senhora, but my Portuguese is not fluent, if you could please curse me in French or English, or perhaps even Spanish…?”

Du Raymonde stood firmly with his foot in the door until either Evelyn calmed down or Jonathan came to the door. He did not hold out much hope for the former.

“Matheu, is that you? I cannot think of anyone else who could dislodge the reasonable sentiments of my beloved in such a short time.

Evelyn, be a dear and allow Raymonde inside. 

“Thank you, and good wishes to you, Sir, and to you, Ma’am, as well.” When he said the pleasantries to Evelyn, he smiled wide, which did little to calm her spirits.

Jonathan led Matheu into the study, and Evelyn followed at what she thought was a safe distance.

“Port”

“Please”

“I apologize for the lack of hospitality, but we have given the staff some day's leave.”

“That is very generous of you, my friend.”

“You will not think it generous when you realize there will be no witness to see me burying you in the garden.”

“Evelyn dear, if you are going to that, please do not disturb the roses.”

“Sometimes, Jonathan, I think I hate you,”

“What is the nature of your call? Perhaps we could go out onto the terrace

The three of them sat outside under an awning, and Matheu and Jonathan began to converse about politics in Europe and the world, ranging from the International Meridian Conference held in Washington, D.C., to determine the Prime Meridian to the ongoing Conference in Berlin, where the European powers would peacefully divide up the continent of Africa, agreeing that it would be peaceful for everyone but the Africans.

They further discussed the elections in America and the release of the second volume of the German economist Karl Marx's opinions on workers' rights.

They commented on the weather, each other's good fortune, the advancement in train service across Europe, and all things trite and disconcerting.

“Enough, you arrogant bastards, and I will direct that to both of you.

Why did you come here, and what do you want to tell us is less critical than train schedules in Paris?”

“Oh, yes, the message from the Authentic. Yes, I almost forgot.

You have been living in Lisbon for just more than twenty years, and despite your efforts to lighten your hair with ammonia, gain weight, and lose weight to change your appearance, the Authentic believes it is time for you to move to another area within a year or two.

I am sure this will please you. She would agree to your return to England, even perhaps London.”

In a manner unbecoming her earlier state, Evelyn ran to embrace du Raymonde.

20 THE VISITOR

In two months, they purchased and operated a fine clothing mercantile store in the newly fashionable neighbourhood of Chiado. Many new clubs and entertainment venues were there, feeding upon the literary institutions, cafes, high-end stores and salons. The stores all featured the latest fashions and trends from London and Paris. The clothing and department stores were built and set up in the style of Harrods of London or the Galleries Lafayette in Paris, and the cafes reflected an Italian influence. It was as cosmopolitan and vibrant as it was new. Every venture was an adventure into the unknown, which appealed to the city's wealthy citizens.

The Empire was strong, and the citizens were transitioning from a more tenet farmer or feudal system to independence, thanks partly to land and peasant revolts twenty and thirty years earlier.

 Through the quiet connection of the O.T.I.D., Jonathan was awarded a royal medallion to be mounted on the exterior of his store. The medallion was the coat of arms of the Royal Family, the House of Braganza. This endorsement by the Court of Luis increased their wealth, prestige, and influence in social circles.

Evelyn was born into the peerage to a minor degree. Her mother’s grandfather had been knighted by King George II in 1740. The family slipped slowly into the background until her mother married Chester Harwood. With her background of being nearly wealthy and now having wealth, Evelyn adopted the attitude: “If one is going to live forever, one should live, like one is going to live forever.”

She had found a young woman with her exact proportions and sent her to Madrid or Paris to purchase the latest fashions for her.

“Evelyn, you are running up a few bills, more than I expected; we are not made of money; you should curtail your spending; you only have one body. Why do you need so many dresses?”

“If I am asked to attend a Royal Ball, I simply could not be expected to wear the same old thing all day. A girl must change.”

“Well, you are no longer a girl, per se, and we both know you will never change. That, I mean, is the truth—in the literal sense and, of course, in your mental state.”

She laughed. “Once a girl, always a girl. Young at heart forever, young in the mind, forever.”

“I guess that is why I fell in love with you, the girl with the broken shoe on Waterloo Bridge, and why I still love you,”

“Thank you, my love. The stranger who helped the poor shoeless girl. And you are still sweeping me off my feet.”

On the fifteenth of every month, they received a notification from the London law office of an American government deposit to their credit. They had expected nothing less.

Just as two years passed, a stranger knocked on their door one Friday evening.

Their house steward, Anibal, received the gentleman’s card and took it into the study. He returned to the stranger and said, “The ‘Mestre’ will see you now.”

After taking the man’s hat, overcoat, gloves, and walking stick to the cloakroom, he led him to the study.

“Mestre, may I introduce Matheu Du Raymonde to you?”

“Thank you, Anibal. If you could ask Senhora St Croix to join us, that would be all.”

“Very well, Mestre.”

St Croix did not say anything to the visitor until Evelyn entered the room.

“Du Raymonde, you have quite elevated yourself from last we met, an Irish stable boy and a runner for the Authentic.”

“Senhor St Croix, we all must do what we must do.”

“You look older with that manicured goatee and the side facial hairs. But enough talk of deportment. What deed of darkness brings you here? And please let us dispense with the formal addresses. Call me Jonathan and Evelyn; well, Evelyn. May we call you Matheu? And would you care for a glass of port?

“Indeed, yes. Indeed, yes to both the port and to the informality.”

Matheu remained standing as he took the port. Jonathan sat on a divan beside Evelyn.

What is it that brings you here to Lisbon? What does the Authentic wish us to know?”

“There are a few dark matters to attend to.

Firstly, the matter of your friend Orlan Marcano. During the siege and fall of Richmond, several troubling things happened. During the bombardment of the city by Union forces, his wife, I believe her name was Adrianne, was killed in that event. As a merchant of war materials, he was taken as a prisoner. Then, in what can be only called an act of spite and in a manner very unbecoming of a Devi, he, in an interrogation, branded you as a Confederate spy. He said that your fleeing to Europe was an escape. With the information I have on that, I believe that the War Office in Washington is looking into repatriating funds you gained from your agreement with them. He seems to have disappeared since his release from Union or Federal custody.”

“You mentioned spite as a reason for his actions. Why would you say spite?”

“The spiteful nature of this is that as you sold your enterprise to the care of the Union forces, he, for some reason, holds you accountable for his wife's death.”  

“That is preposterous and insane; how could any of Jonathan's horses have been involved? Some wagons could have liveried cannonballs, but that is insanity.”

“Yes, Madame, insanity indeed. His household staff had informed the arresting military constables. It looked like Mr Marcano was attempting to save her life by spilling his blood into her wounds. They tried to stop him, but he drew a pistol on them and drove them from his residence.

We can only assume that he was attempting a ‘turning’ on his wife, and it failed, and we fear he may have gone mad, or as you say, Madame, quite insane.”

“What you are saying is there is a half-mad Devi out there seeking to find me and do me ill?’

“Yes sir, and perhaps to your wife as well.”

“What does the Authentic have to say on this?”

“The Authentic has several issues at hand that do, unfortunately, take precedence over your matter.

The current Sultan of the Ottomans, Abdulaziz, who succeeded his elder brother, has decided to reconsider the Empire's long-time agreement with the Devi. This agreement dates back to the Second Great Crusade and the battles in which Louis VII defeated a Seljuk army and the battle just one month later in the Cadmus Mountains, where the Seljuks, in turn, defeated Louis with what was believed to be Devi assistance.

 As such, many of our kind have left the Turkish regions and the Levant. This has cost a Devi a great deal of money and security and caused the Authentic many long nights with much consternation.”

The second issue on her mind is that her exceptionally long-time confidant, Isabel Martel, has recently met with a tragic accident. She was caught in a fire near the Cathedral of St Sulpice in Paris.”

“Oh my God, that is terrible. What a horrible way to die. So much knowledge and wisdom have been lost” Evelyn murmured as tears filled her eyes.

Jonathan followed. “She was hard and strict but fair, and regardless of stature or age, she treated everyone respectfully.”

The Frenchman nodded in terse agreement and added; I believe that the Authentic, for a time, deeply considered your wife, Sir.”

Turning to Evelyn. “You, Madame, for the position as an aide, but after reflection, she realized you, Evelyn St Croix, have a greater and longer destiny. The Authentic makes no claims to see the future, but she sees you as special.”

“Me, what have I done? In one way, I am the youngest or one of the youngest. I know next to nothing of the ways of the Devi. Why would she say that of me?”

“Perhaps, Madame and I mean no disrespect to your husband Jonathan, but perhaps your husband has not been entirely honest with you about the full weight of becoming a Devi as both a rarity and an honour.”

Evelyn looked at Jonathan with a look of horror etched on her face. “Jonathan?” 

Du Raymonde stepped backward to the door without stepping towards either to bid farewell. “I have said all the Authentic has requested, I say, and not one word more. I should take my leave.”

He walked back through the door, and Anibal, as if by magic, was there to give the man his belongings and then saw him to the door.

“What in Hell’s name have you not told me? What deep secret are you hiding, or do you think I am too weak or too young of a Devi to grasp? Your damned Authentic believes I have the power and will for some greatness. So why is it I am sharing my bed chamber with a deceiver? “

Jonathan looked at his wife and saw an uncommon rage in her eyes. Even as a man who had seen hundreds of dead and dying on the field of battle, this look of hers terrified him.

“I will tell you the story. It may be long or seem long, and you should hear me out without interruption.”

“No, Sir, I want the details and facts, or I will walk out the door and find Marcano so he may have his way with you. Speak damn it.”

“If that is what you want, Evelyn, then yes, I will tell you the short and hard facts.

In England, I fell in love with you. In Ireland, you almost died, or perhaps you should have died, but I was mad with love for you. I was overcome with fear, agony and dread. All I could offer you was what I did.  I granted you a new and longer life as a Devi. How I did that is something I am not proud of.

To save you, I needed to give you all the life energy I had, or near enough of it that it makes no odds.

I fed you in the room in the Stoker’s home enough life energy to see you through to get to Wicklow. And there I gave you so much more. But as not die on my own, I needed to feed on fear and death. Thus, Matheu and his companion procured two young women they encountered on the road in the very early morning of the second day we were there. Suppose I may spare you the detail of the furtherance of my actions. I had taken the life force of the older one and passed that energy to you. Then, the next day, I granted you the life of the second younger girl.”

“Beast! You killed two girls to save me?” You killed two innocent children to save my life? What kind of bastard did I marry? What kind of monster am I?

When you hold me in a naked embrace and ravage me with your so-called passion, is it me that you feel when you have your way with me? Is it my body you think, or is it their bodies you feel around you? Speak to me, you bastard,” she yelled at him, beating her fists upon his chest

“It is you. It has always been you. There is no one else. That is why I did what I did.”

“What of these girls? Did they have names? Did they have families? Are there people who may have died wondering where their children are?”

“They were young, but malnourishment had given them the bodies of old women; the ravages and the effects of the famine bore them great suffering. They had been marked and shaven, as was the practice in the workhouses. They had no hair for fleas or lice. Their time, if left alone, would have been short. They had escaped from a workhouse, and therefore, both the Irish guards or some stiff-shirted Englishman would have captured them to use for pleasure. A longer life perhaps by weeks, but a longer death by the same time.”

“You think you saved them from a worse life, so you killed them. Is that what you think?”

“No, Evelyn, I know that; I do not think it. At noon the next day, a Constable and a group of farmers with dogs barked at O’Leary’s door. The hound had followed their scent to Abigail’s. They wanted to search the house, but Matheu stepped up and said that some linens left out overnight had been stolen and that he found some ragged clothes balled up on the bed of his wagon.

Over the night, Matheu had placed the clothes there, which were indeed from the girls. As well, Matheu had poured horse piss on them to bring the hunt of the dogs to an end.

He also stole two chickens from a nearby residence to make the story more plausible. So, it would appear the girls had taken a road inland. 

“What else must I know about the macabre and sadist carnival you have made me join?”

“As Devi, we naturally take in this energy, and we can only release it first to the person we wish to turn to Devi, is through our blood.

With you, I had to slit my arteries and force my blood into your wound. I had to, as they say, transfuse blood into you. It is not like I could nourish you by pouring my blood into your mouth, or if you ate my flesh, you needed the blood to feed your heart and your brain, not your stomach or gut.

I gave you blood, enough for a few days. Then I took the life energies of those girls, created within myself more blood to feed you with, and that is the story of your rebirth.

In America, the pain of slavery, the riots in the city of Philadelphia and the proximity and the passing of soldiers from the battlefield sustained us both.

Here In Lisbon, it is the fat bastards in society, feeding on the labours of others and exploiting their fellow man as they rot from the inside with consumption and gout, and that does nothing for us.

I have seen and felt 10,000 deaths, and if I were to gain one week of life from each, I would live two hundred years. But I have seen more death than that when walking the battlefields. Deep in blood up to my calves, I will live much longer… perhaps longer than I care. “

 What of me? How long will I live? 

“That depends; the blood of mine in your veins will grow tired. It has served you for the past ten years, but you will soon need to charge yourself; you will need much more energy.”

“And how do I do that? How am I to overwhelm my sense with the lost life forces of others.”

“My dear, you must learn to kill.”    

19 LISBON

They left Baltimore harbour in September 1864 on a steamship for Lisbon. The crossing was completed in five days, less than half the time they travelled from Saint Nazaire to New York on their first ocean voyage together.

Lisbon had changed much since his last visit. That was of no surprise to him; he had been there shortly after All Saints Day, a Saturday in 1755.

As a merchant, he owned a small cloth and spice exchange, bringing materials from across the sea in Brazil. He had a warehouse in Lisbon and one in each colonial city, Recife, and the groves in the Azores. His success allowed him to afford to become a partner in his ship to transport his goods and the goods of others.

Evelyn loved to hear the stories of that time. The ship and the sea. Although she now had crossed the Atlantic four times, her heart still swelled at Jonathan’s stories of smaller ships laden with what she imagined as treasure. The sails flapping and then being pulled taut by the wind, the uncertainty of the storms and what must have been worse, the storms at night.

She was also enthralled by the stories of the jungle and its natives, wild animals like jaguars, and birds of all colours, like a rainbow of feathers. 

As they entered the city’s harbour, Jonathan dropped his hand from hers and grabbed hold of the rail. She looked at him first with surprise and then with worry.

 “My dear, you look weak. Are you alright, my dearest Jonathan? Perhaps you should sit down for a moment, or at least not stand so close to the rail.”

“The last time I saw Lisbon from here, it was the ruin of a city—nothing but clouds of smoke and dust in the air. The smell of death was thick, and it seemed like the sun had not shone for days. The air was so black you could not see those hills in the distance nor even from one side of the harbour to the other.

First, you could not see the hills because of the smoke, and you could not look across the harbour because of the number of bodies. Hundreds of broken bodies of men, women, and children. Floating amid and amongst the wastes and refuse shortly before their homes. The strongest and most battle-hardened warriors I knew would not have been able to hold back their tears.

My ship was a few days out on an inward voyage. We felt the sea sway and toss continued for a day and a half. Of all the things I have forgotten, that is the one thing I wish I could and yet cannot.”

“Senhor, the Captain would wish to speak with you immediately, please, he says.”

“Yes, Ademar, go tell him I will be there in the immediate future.” He replied, pointing for the junior sailor to leave his quarters.

They were not much, but he had a small partitioned area as a part-owner of the ship. He knew the less space he had, the more room there was for cargo, and the fewer luxuries he had, the more the crew would accept him as a “trabalhador” or a “homem de verdade, " as a “worker” or a “real man.”

To his way of thinking, the Portuguese may have been the most hard-working and noble of all the people he had known.

He put his boots on, straightened his shirt and flattened down his hair. He may have wanted to be accepted by the crew, but he knew he should show respect to the captain. St Croix may have owned the ship, but it was the captain’s domain at sea. And João Dias Pereira was as good of a captain as the country ever produced, except for Vasco Da Gama and a few others.

“Captain Pereira, you wish to discuss a matter with me?”

“Yes, Senhor. Of all my days at sea, I feel a great unease. I ask for your opinion: Should we sail to the East and approach Africa or stay this course in deeper water?

“You are the captain, and I believe your sea gut. I believe that we should stay at sea as the seas out here are calm and no ill-looking clouds appear on any horizon. What you fear in feeling could be an arising “tempestade de areia,” which could damage the ship, and the sands would blind us if we were to approach the coast.”

“Very well, Senhor, I thought perhaps the same thing.”

There are few reference points in the middle of the sea, and there are no landmarks or a way to judge your direction or speed. But everyone on board the ‘Flor de la Mar’ felt the ship list the starboard, and with the only line of reference to make any observation, they saw the bow lift concerning the horizon. And unlike the cresting of a wave, the bow stayed raised for almost a quarter of an hour.

About an hour later, the ship listed again; this time, the bow dipped, and the boat felt like it was being pushed forward.

As they approached Lisbon, the sun was redder in the eastern sky. The adage, “Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning, " was inadequate to prepare them for what they were about to encounter.

Still miles off the coast, they had begun to see debris, pieces of wood and other flotsam in the sea. Their first thought and reaction were to send a man up the main mast to look for any sailors or ships in distress. The lookout reported to the captain that there was no evidence of a vessel in trouble but that the sea was littered as far as he could see toward the coast.

The captain sent spotters to the bow to warn of any floating item that could damage the ‘Flor de la Mar,’ but they only saw more minor pieces of wreckage and a growing number of bodies. 

Two miles from port, the sky over the city appeared black and dull, and the sun began to fade. Once in sight of the shoreline, the shores appeared denuded of trees and all manner of the works of man. The hills looked just like mounds of bare earth.

As they entered the estuary of the Tagus River, one of the finest natural harbours in Europe, the magnitude of the destruction became apparent.

On a Saturday mid-morning, with the markets teeming and the city alive, a rumbling was felt beneath the feet of the shoppers and merchants. As the tremor began to shake the town in earnest, tiles began to fall from roofs, church bells began to peal, and those without support were tossed to the ground.  

The ground swayed from side to side for more than five minutes and heaved upwards and downwards. Many of the candles lit in the early morning to celebrate All Saint Day tumbled from their tables and lit countless fires across the city.

The buildings collapsed with the cracking sound of splitting timbers; deeper sounds reverberated as the stone and masonry walls split and crumbled. Once the trembling and pitching ground stopped, it became silent, and the panicking populace ran toward the coast and the broader open spaces near the harbour. Looking back toward the city, they saw hundreds of columns of smoke rising from the small fires that would later merge into a tremendous firestorm.

Turning toward the sea, they stood in mute stupefaction as they watched the sea withdraw from the harbour and coast. The waters moved with such dispatch that not only were ships left on the floor of the harbour basin, but one could walk out where the waters had been and collect stranded fish. Those not wishing to stand or collect fish fell to their knees, praying and crossing themselves, asking for forgiveness as they thought this was the end of days.

An uneasy calm settled across the crowds as husbands found wives and parents found children. Priests began walking through the crowds, speaking of aid and comfort and trying to explain how the will of a loving god could wreak such destruction.

In less than an hour, the first dogs began to howl, and then all the birds took flight. Those with keen hearing heard a low, swishing rumble from the sea.

Out in the reaches of the broad Atlantic, a massive swell of water was racing toward land. The swell quickly became a wall as it crossed the shallower sea bed.

Forty minutes after the ground had shaken, the wall of water, a tsunami, raged down upon the broken city. The Carcavelos and Caparica areas of the city region were the first to be inundated as they were on the west sides of the two bodies of land that form natural walls north and south to protect the harbour and Lisbon proper.

The water funnelled through the opening to the harbour, across the basin and into the eastern hills and moved far up the Tagus River channel. The speed it travelled was barely outpaced by men riding on horseback galloping as fast as they could to reach higher land for fear of being carried away. Over the day, the waves receded and returned twice more, piling more woe and misery upon the suffering citizenry.

The fires not extinguished by the waters grew and combined in strength, burning with such ferocity that a man within forty yards of the flames could not breathe.

From Faro and Algarve in the south to the northern reaches of the country, all the coastal communities and towns were fraught with destruction; even Covilhã, an inland city one hundred and forty miles north of Lisbon and seventy miles from that coast, had damage sustained to her ancient fortress walls.  

Regaining his composure, Jonathan relayed these facts to Evelyn, stood firmly, placed his arm around her, set his jaw, and said, “We are now home. Our new home.”