Merrick by Claire Cray Page A

main room. Some were ready with
inquiries and entreaties. A few whispered and passed him notes. He patiently
bowed his head to each as he moved in his feeble shuffle towards the door,
speaking quietly to a few. I wondered if any of them would be showing up late
one night for a special dose of tea.
    Staying behind for
awhile to speak with Hope’s mother, Merrick sent me into the general store for
a few groceries. I approached the counter in a daze and made my requests.
    “Just come from
Hope Smith’s, have ye?”
    I looked at the
old grocer and nodded numbly.
    “All’s well?”
    I nodded.
    The grocer
chuckled. “First time?” He smiled at my nod and let me be.
    I still hadn’t
spoken when we got back to the cottage at nightfall. I made tea at Merrick’s
bidding and sat at the table with my cup, staring blankly into the steam.
    “Might I gather
that the birth made an impression on you?” Merrick asked at last, sipping his
tea in the corner. He had removed his cloak on returning to the house.
    I shook my head
slightly. At last I remarked, my voice still full of astonishment, “The things
expected of women!”
    “Yes,” Merrick
said slowly, and I found a rueful look in his eye. “Indeed.”
    I couldn’t help
recalling the many boastful stories I’d heard from men who found their joy in
seducing servant girls. How cruel it seemed now. “Have you lost any of them?”
    “No.”
    “Why, you must be
in great demand, then.”
    “It depends on the
family. Most prefer women for the tasks involved, and some girls find my
appearance frightful.”
    “It is a
bit Death-like,” I admitted, then looked at him with wide eyes. “Pardon my
saying so…”
    He laughed softly.
“I know,” he agreed. “But it encourages people to leave me alone, and my
options are limited anyway.” After a moment he added, “I am rather sensitive to
the sunlight.”
    I raised my
eyebrows, then remembered not to look too interested. That made sense, I
supposed.
    I had considered
the possibility that he was some sort of vampire. I’d heard tales of them. Yet,
he was awake in the day, wasn’t he? And whose blood would he be drinking, here
in the middle of nowhere? I supposed there were other types of immortals who
could not bear the sunlight.
    Besides, most
importantly, vampires were said to be hideously ugly, with razor-sharp teeth
and fetid breath. Merrick was…well, he wasn’t hard to look at, and I had a
feeling his breath smelled of mint tea.
    “Are you not
frightened by me?” Merrick asked after a peaceful silence.
    “No, sir.”
    “You seem
remarkably at peace with the idea that I am not human.”
    That was a fair
point. “Well,” I said slowly. “I must accept facts. There’s no denying
something is out of the ordinary with you. You’ve been in this area and
practicing for forty years. You ought to look old, but you don’t. And there was
the cut on my hand. No getting around that one.”
    He seemed vaguely
amused. “Anything else?”
    “Well, there was
that resin you burned to make me speak honestly. I could dismiss that on its
own as the natural magic of botany, I suppose, but along with the rest, it’s a
little suspicious.” I paused. “And then there’s that horse. How does she always
come around when you need her?”
    Merrick tilted his
head as though surprised, and then a smile spread over his features. “I whistle
for her, William.”
    I blinked, and
then felt a little stupid. “Oh.” I thought it over for a moment with a frown.
“Aren’t horses kept tied up?”
    “Many are. But she
stays near her food and her comfortable stable.”
    “Oh. Then it’s not
the work of some charm.”
    “I didn’t say
that, exactly,” he admitted.
    Hmm. “You said
you’re not a human anymore ,” I said. “What does that mean? Did you give
up your soul?”
    “I don’t believe
so.”
    I wished he’d tell
me just what he was, but I supposed I was lucky he seemed willing to let me try
and figure it out. He was