George Martin - Fevre Dream

“She,” Marsh said.

Julian frowned.

“Boat’s a she, not an it, ”Marsh said.

“Ah,” said Damon Julian.

“Billy Tipton is running this boat, ain’t he?”

Julian shrugged. “Billy is an overseer, not a riverman. I can dispose of Billy. Would you like that, Captain? That can be your first reward, if you join me. Billy’s death. I will kill him for you, or let you do it yourself. He killed your mate, you know.”

“Hairy Mike?” Marsh said, feeling chilled.

“Yes,” said Julian. “And your engineer too, after a few weeks. He caught him trying to weaken the boilers, so they’d explode. Would you like to revenge your people? It is within your power.” Julian leaned forward intently, his dark eyes gleaming, excited. “You can have other things as well. Wealth. I care nothing for that. You can handle all my money.”

“All you stole from Joshua.”

Julian smiled. “A bloodmaster receives many gifts,” he said. “I can offer you women as well. I have lived among your people for many years, I know your lusts, your thirsts. How long has it been since you’ve had a woman, Captain? Would you like Valerie? She can be yours. She is lovelier than any woman of your race, and she will not grow old and hideous, not in your lifetime. You can have her. The others as well. They will not harm you. What else would you like? Food? Toby is still alive. You can have his cooking six, seven times a day if you desire.

“You are a practical man, Captain. You do not share the religious delusions of your race. Consider what you are being offered. You will have the power to punish your enemies and protect your friends, a full stomach, money, women. And all for doing what you want to do desperately, for running this steamboat. Your Fevre Dream.”

Abner Marsh snorted. “She ain’t mine no more. You’ve fouled her.”

“Look around you. Are things so bad? We have run between Natchez and New Orleans regularly, the steamer is in good repair, hundreds of passengers have come and gone without ever noticing anything amiss. A few vanish, most of them ashore, in the towns and cities we visit. Billy says it is safer that way. Only a handful have died aboard your steamer, those whose beauty and youth were too exceptional. More slaves die every day in New Orleans, yet you do not work against slavery. The world is full of evils, Abner. I do not ask you to condone or participate. Just run your steamer, and mind your own business. We need your expertise. Billy drives away passengers, we lose money on every run. Even Joshua’s funds are not inexhaustible. Come, Abner, give me your hand. Agree. You want to. I can feel it in your eyes. You want this steamer back again. It is a thirst in you, a passion. Take it, then. Good and evil are silly lies, nonsense put forth to plague honest sensible men. I know you, Abner, and I can give you what you want. Join me, serve me. Take my hand, and together we will outrun the Eclipse.” His dark eyes swirled and burned, endless depths, reaching deep inside Marsh, touching him, feeling him intimately, unclean and yet seductive, calling, calling. His hand was extended. Abner Marsh started to reach out for it. Julian smiled so nicely, and his words made so much sense. He wasn’t asking Marsh to do nothing terrible, just run a steamboat, help protect him, protect his friends. Hell, he’d protected Joshua, and Joshua was a vampire too, wasn’t he? And maybe there’d be some killing on the boat, but a man had been strangled on the Sweet Fevre back in ’54, and two gamblers had been shot dead on the Nick Perrot when Marsh was running her; none of that had been his blame, he was just tending his own affairs, running his steamers, it wasn’t like he’d kill anybody himself. Man had to protect his friends but not the whole world, he’d see to it that Sour Billy got what he deserved. It all sounded good, a damn good deal. Julian’s eyes were black and hungry and his skin felt cool, hard like Joshua’s, like Joshua’s that night on the levee…

… and Abner Marsh snatched his hand away. “Joshua,” he said loudly. “That’s it. You ain’t beaten him yet, have you? You got him whipped, but he’s still alive, and you ain’t got him to drink blood, you ain’t got him to change. That’s why.” Marsh felt his blood rising to his face. “You don’t care how much damn money this steamboat makes. If she sunk tomorrow, you wouldn’t care a good goddamn, you’d just go somewheres else. And Sour Billy, maybe you want to get rid of him, use me instead, but that ain’t it. It’s Joshua. If I join you it will break whatever he’s got left, prove you right. Joshua trusted me, and you want me ’cause you know what that’d do to him.” Julian’s hand was still extended, rings shining softly on his long pale fingers. “Damn you!” Marsh roared, and he picked up his walking stick and swung it hard, smashing the hand to the side. “DAMN YOU!”

The smile died on Damon Julian’s lips and his face became something inhuman. There was nothing in his eyes but darkness and age and flickering dim fires that burned with ancient evil. He stood up, so he towered over Abner Marsh, and he snatched the stick away as Marsh swung it at his face. He broke it with his bare hands, as easily as Marsh might break a dead match, and tossed it to the side. The pieces clattered off the wall and dropped to the carpet. “You might have been remembered as the man who outran the Eclipse, ”Julian said with a malicious coldness. “Instead, you will die. It is going to last a long time, Captain Marsh. You are much too ugly for me. I am giving you to Billy, to teach him the taste of blood. Maybe dear Joshua should have a glass as well. It would do him good.” He smiled. “As for your steamboat, Captain Marsh, don’t worry. I will take good care of her after you are gone. No one on the river will ever forget your Fevre Dream.”

Aboard the Steamer Ozymandias, Mississippi River, October 1857

Dawn was breaking when Abner Marsh was led from the captain’s cabin. Morning mists lay heavily on the river, gray wisps that drifted and curled smokily across the water and threaded themselves through the steamer’s rails and colonnades, writhing like living things soon to burn and perish in the light of the morning sun. Damon Julian saw the red blush in the east, and remained in the dimness of his cabin. He pushed Marsh through the door. “Take the captain to his cabin, Billy,” he said. “Keep him safe until dark. You will be so kind as to join us for supper, Captain Marsh?” He smiled. “I knew you would.”

They were waiting just outside. Sour Billy, in a black suit and a checkered vest, was sitting with his chair tilted back against the wall of the texas, cleaning his fingernails with his knife. He stood up when the door opened, and tossed the knife easily in his hand. “Yes, sir, Mister Julian,” he said, his ice-colored eyes fixed on Marsh.

He had two others with him. The night folks who’d helped Billy take Marsh from the Eli Reynolds had retreated back to their staterooms to escape the touch of morning, so Billy had called up some of his river scum, it appeared. As Julian shut the cabin door, they moved in. One of them was a portly youth with ragged brown whiskers, a live oak cudgel stuck through his cord belt. The other one was a giant, and the ugliest damn thing Abner Marsh had ever seen. He must have stood near seven foot tall, but he had a tiny little head, squinty eyes, wooden teeth, and no nose at all. Abner Marsh stared.

“Don’t you go looking at Noseless,” Sour Billy said. “It ain’t polite, Cap’n.” Noseless, as if to agree, grabbed Marsh’s arm roughly and twisted it up behind him so hard it hurt. “A gator bit off his nose,” Sour Billy said. “Ain’t his fault. You hold Cap’n Marsh tight now, Noseless. Cap’n Marsh is fond of jumpin’ into the river, and we don’t want none of that.” Billy swaggered over and poked his knife into Marsh’s stomach, just enough so Marsh felt the prick. “You swim better’n I figgered, Cap’n. Must be all this fat, makes it easier to float.” He twisted the knife suddenly and sliced a silver button from Marsh’s jacket. It fell clattering to the deck, and rolled around and around in a circle until Sour Billy stepped on it. “No swimming today, Cap’n. We’re goin’ to bed you down proper. You even get your own cabin. Don’t think you’re goin’ to sneak out neither. Maybe the night folks is all asleep, but Noseless or me will be right outside all day. Come on, now.” Billy flipped his knife in the air lazily, sheathed it, and turned. He led them aft, Noseless propelling Marsh along behind him, the third man bringing up the rear.