Page 44 of Now Comes the Mist

Mina laughs. “Oh, no, I think he’s making his escape.”

“And here come his jailers,” I observe.

A boy and two girls, all under the age of ten, are chasing after the dog. They have short plump legs, well-made clothes, and almost identicalfaces, with round brown eyes and dimpled cheeks. There is something eerie and uncomfortable about watching them, as though my vision has been distorted and I am somehow seeing three versions of only one child.

To my consternation, the impossibly small dog runs over to us and begins pawing and sniffing at my skirts. I step back in disgust, pressing against the outside wall of the post office, but Mina laughs again and actually scoops the wriggling animal into her arms.

“What a delightful little thing you are,” she coos, rubbing its floppy ears. She smiles at the children, who have stopped in front of us. “Hello there. Is this adorable runaway yours?”

“He is, indeed, miss,” says the older girl solemnly. “His name is Biscuit.”

“What a nice name,” Mina says kindly. “Which one of you thought of it?”

“I did,” the boy says at once.

“You did not, Edward!” the girl argues. “It was Emily’s idea. Wasn’t it, Em?”

But the younger girl is not listening. She is staring at me. I blink back at her, choking down my disgust at the slimy white matter dotting the corners of her enormous eyes.

Edward seems to sense my displeasure. “Sorry, miss,” he says, taking hold of his younger sister’s arm. “Emily looks too long at people sometimes, even though we tell her it isn’t polite.”

“She just thinks you’re pretty,” the older girl adds, and suddenly all three children are gazing at me. My skin is positively crawling. They are so round and pink and tiny, with dripping noses, and it is impossible to imagine myself ever having been like them.

“She’s bloofer,” Emily whispers shyly, and gooseflesh forms up and down my arms. I think of the afternoon Arthur and I had taken a walk outside my home and a little boy called me that, mispronouncing the word in exactly the same way.

“Yes, she’s beautiful,” the other girl agrees, and they all watch me expectantly.

“Isn’t that nice, Lucy?” Mina prompts me. “These lovely children complimented you.”

I force a smile that feels more like a grimace, and my eyes dart away from the identical round faces for some relief. I realize that the tiny dog’s escape has attracted spectators, and everyone at the tables nearby is watching us. “I am so glad,” I say faintly. “So very glad.”

“Here, let me return Biscuit to you.” Mina hands the quivering pile of white fur to the older girl. “Keep a tighter grip on him so he doesn’t escape again.”

But no sooner has she finished speaking than the dog lifts its head, sniffing excitedly, before jumping out of the child’s arms and tearing over to the cluster of iron tables nearby.

“Not again!” Edward groans.

Biscuit heads straight toward a man sitting alone and begins smelling his polished shoes and the cuffs of his dark trousers. The dog’s tail wags frantically as the man reaches down to pat his head. Everyone is smiling at the pair of them, including Mina, but my heart seems to have stopped beating in my body. The man has a long, pale hand that wears a brass ring with a red garnet. It is Vlad’s hand, and Vlad’s ring, and when the man looks around at the crowd with a sheepish chuckle, it is Vlad’s face—even whiter and handsomer by day—with its long straight nose, sharp jaw, and deep ocean eyes.

“No, I am not your owner, little one,” he says gravely, his rich voice carrying easily. He seems to be exaggerating his accent. “I cannot take you home, for I have no food or bed for you. And I would likely think you were a cushion and sit upon you by accident.”

Mina is laughing as hard as everyone else. The children hurry over, and the older girl apologizes to Vlad as she seizes the dog. Biscuit strains against her arms, trying desperately to get back to Vlad. Clearly, the animal is as charmed by him as everyone else.

“You have won him over, sir,” says a young woman in pink muslin, her eyes roving over Vlad’s well-dressed form with interest. “Perhaps you are an animal trainer?”

He shakes his head, a gesture so familiar that it almost takes my breath away. It is surreal beyond anything I could imagine, seeing in daylight a man I only know in dreams. “No, that is one calling in life I have not yet pursued,” he says in a light, easy tone as his eyes move directly to me. The swiftness with which he finds me in the crowd proves he has been watching me this whole time. I feel mingled fear and excitement at the thought of him studying my face and form and listening to my every word without anyone else knowing our relation to each other. My breath comes a bit too quickly as his gaze holds mine.

“Lucy?” Mina takes my elbow, alarmed. “Are you unwell?”

Quick as a flash, Vlad leaves his seat and approaches us with an elegant bow. The power of his broad shoulders and the handsome head atop themdraws every eye in the vicinity as he addresses Mina and me. “Forgive me, ladies, for we have not been introduced. But I could not help noticing that you may be in need of a chair,” he says. “May I give you mine?”

“Please, sir,” Mina says gratefully. “I’m afraid my friend might have caught a chill.”

“From the storm last night? I would not blame her at all. A cold wet wind will trouble even the strongest constitution,” Vlad says, holding out his arm to me.

Slowly, I take it as though in a trance. Through the sleeve of his thick coat, I feel the strength of his arm as he guides me to his chair. He and Mina look at me, both expecting me to say something, but my throat feels too dry and raw for words.

“This is very kind of you, sir,” Mina says to him, ever proper. “Lucy, how are you feeling? Won’t you thank the gentleman for his assistance?”

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