A Game of Chess, Ch. 5 (PG-13)

[librarian_7]

Yes, still June 1863, still New York City, and still Josef. Whom I do not own.

A Game of Chess

Chapter 5

Ned looked at the room Mrs. Davidson had taken him to, and almost stammered. “This can’t be for me.”

She thinned her lips, thinking that if he was displeased, then he was a brat, and Mr. Fitz wouldn’t put up with that for long. “What were you expecting?” she asked carefully.

He shook his head. “Nothing so grand.”

“It’s the same as the girl’s, next door.”

“Yes, but—“ Ned walked into the room, an airy chamber at the front of the house. “I wasn’t expecting…” he trailed off, lamely, and walked into the room, looking around him at the solid, if plain, furniture, the neat iron bedstead covered in spotless white linens, a more colorful patchwork quilt folded at its foot. He quirked an eyebrow at the small writing desk, but he had more appreciation for a compact, marble-topped washstand with basin and ewer.

Centered on the top of the desk were a stack of beginning reading and math books, and an undecorated box of pale wood. When Ned looked at the housekeeper, she nodded.

“It’s for you,” she said.

The box held a simple, wooden chess set.

“He—he’s kind?” Ned asked. “Mr. Fitzgerald?”

Mrs. Davidson looked thoughtful. She knew perfectly well what he was asking, and she couldn’t give him an exact answer. “I have found him,” she replied slowly, “to be a fair and generous employer.”

She had a sudden flash of Mr. Fitzgerald, as he’d given her instructions for the two new members of the household. No servants quarters, no backstairs for these two. As if he’d sensed her disapproval, he’d frowned.

“If I choose to honor and nourish those who nourish me, Mrs. Davidson,” he’d snapped, “then it is surely no one’s affair but my own.” And at her chagrin, he’d softened. “If age brings any wisdom, Mrs. D., then consider that I may have learned what suits me best, by now.”

And seeing Ned’s pleasure at his new quarters, she could hardly fault Mr. Fitzgerald for his foibles.

“They give me their blood. And if they’re smart, their loyalty,” he’d said. “Those things deserve reward.”

Wrenching her thoughts back into the present, Mrs. Davidson gave Ned an almost matronly smile. “Mr. Fox should have your trunk up here shortly. And I’ll bring you a bite to eat as well.”

“I could come to the kitchen, Mrs. Davidson.” Ned realized he’d become used to being around people, being part of the large household at Madame Thorne’s birdcage. This new arrangement might be unexpectedly solitary.

She shook her head, and brushed a loose strand of graying hair back from her face. “Mr. Fitzgerald wishes you to keep close to your room, Ned. He may require your attendance this evening.” And she was gone, in a rustle of skirts.

He heard her knock on Tessa’s door, speak a few words to the young woman that he couldn’t quite make out. He wondered if her reactions were the same as his, if her instructions were the same. He couldn’t hear if she said anything in return. Come to think of it, he’d never heard her say anything, except for that one offer she’d made, in Madame Thorne’s office. In the carriage this afternoon, she’d barely looked at him, let alone spoken. Not that he hadn’t been lost in his own thoughts.

He accepted the tray Mrs. Davidson delivered, ate the food that was much like what he’d been accustomed to at Madame Thorne’s house. Plain, simple fare, and miles better than he remembered from before. Ned wondered idly if all vampires fed their swallows the same way. He supposed what he ate might affect the taste of his blood. Madame Rose always insisted on the highest standards of health and cleanliness, and the patrons of her establishment had often remarked on it.

He took some time setting up the chess board on his desk, pushing the useless books to one side. Then he sat and stared at the board, waiting for the time to pass.

Waiting to be called to take the fang.

&&

Josef poured himself a tumbler of bourbon—so difficult to get good bourbon, in New York these days, but this was choice, aged stuff—and wondered why first times always had to be so damned awkward. Here was Ned, standing looking at him with uncertain eyes, waiting for some direction.

The boy had discarded his neckcloth, and rolled back both sleeves a turn or two. Accommodating of him, Josef thought.

Josef circled him, wetting his lips as he breathed in Ned’s scent. He was pleased to note that the swallow was relaxed, ready. Anxious to please, but not overly so.

“What did Madame Rose tell you, Ned, about coming to me?” he asked.

Ned bit his lower lip, concentrating. “She said—she said, ‘For God’s sake, never lie to him, Neddie.’”

“Good advice. Anything else?”

“No, but, Mr. Fitzgerald—“

Josef, behind him, drew his focus away from Ned’s throat. He sighed. “Ned, I’m going to be drinking your blood. I don’t think you need to be quite so formal, do you?”

Ned smiled, tight-lipped. “What would you prefer I call you, Mr.--?” He paused in embarrassment.

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out. I’ll think about it. For now, I’ll assume you are addressing me with proper respect.” He chuckled. “Maybe Mr. Fitz would be sufficient.”

“All right, uh, Mr. Fitz.”

Josef nodded, aware that the swallow’s breathing was quickening as he debated the best approach.

“Give me your wrist,” he said, amused to see a flash of disappointment cross Ned’s face. He grasped the wrist firmly with one hand, running careful fingertips over the skin of the inner wrist. Most of the bite marks he saw were dainty things, the work of female fangs. And they were all clear, not blurred. The swallow was not one to flinch, it seemed.

Ned had long since become accustomed to the delicate approach of the female vampires. He knew they were stronger, but he found the size of them gave him an illusory feeling of control. This—this was overwhelming. There was a small beat in the back of his head urging him to break and run, but he kept thinking back to the training he’d had from Madame Rose. Never flinch, never struggle. He’d been—unsure—about entering this arrangement, but Madame Rose had been persuasive.

The vampire was taking his time, savoring the scent, until Ned was almost trembling from the anticipation. When he bit, the strike was hard , the fangs sliding through skin with more controlled power than Ned would have thought possible. Then the gentle, insistent pull began, and all other thoughts than the peculiar pleasure of it left his head.

From the time of his first initiation to the bite, he had craved the feel of it, had loved the intimacy and power of nourishing these fascinating creatures. He relaxed into the rhythm of pull, swallow, pull, swallow, the auburn head bent over his wrist both conqueror and vanquished at once.

And then a velvet tongue stroking the wounds, soothing the damaged flesh, putting his own seal on Ned.

Josef straightened, his tongue catching a last droplet of red at the corner of his mouth. He was pleased to see that the boy, if a bit pale, was steady on his feet. He made a brisk gesture. “Sit down, Ned. Do you feel up to talking?”

“Thank you, si—Mr. Fitz.” Ned ducked his head a bit, shyly. He’d been expecting a dismissal, his task fulfilled. This was, evidently, going to be a little different than his experience in the birdcage.

“So,” Josef said, seating himself facing Ned and raking a sharp eye over the young man. “I find myself curious about you. How is it you don’t read or write, yet someone taught you to play a fair game of chess?”

Ned shrugged. “It’s an old story.”

Josef’s smile was sardonic, his voice a subtle command. “I have time,” he said.

“All right.” Ned paused a moment, searching for words and details. “My—my family is from Norge, Norway, that is. My father decided we should emigrate to this country when I was still very young. Seven, near as I can remember. It was just the three of us, Papa, Mama, and me. We couldn’t afford good tickets, and the ship was crowded. I remember that. And the smell below deck. So as much as we could, we stayed on deck. It was a bad time to make a crossing, in the fall. We were used to cold, but the wind on board ship—it cut through you like knives. The sea was very rough, most of the time, and many of the passengers were sick. But it was cheaper then. Papa told me once that if we’d stayed another winter in Oslo, we’d have ended up without the passage money. Even so, he cursed the decision.”

Josef nodded, listening.

The young man took a deep breath, his face bleak, the lingering lassitude from his vampire’s bite fading, replaced with the tension of remembered pain. “One day, we were out on deck, and it was very rough. To me, the waves around us looked like black mountains, like the mountains of our homeland, but moving, always moving. I remember the ship rising, climbing, then falling with a crash. It seemed so small, and we seemed so alone.

“Then there was a particularly bad lurch, and a hard gust of wind. Papa was holding my hand on one side, and Mama on the other. He grabbed at—something—and held on. I remember Papa screaming at me to hold her. But Mama—I couldn’t hold on to her. Her hand, it just slipped through mine. She fell, screaming, and rolled across the deck. Somehow, somehow, there was another pitch, and she went over the side. I remember her face, that last instant. And how Papa left me, and tried to go in after her. The sailors held him back, they said her skirts would drag her under. They said she was lost to the sea. Lost.

“When they finally let go of him, he came over to me. He put his hand back, and hit me, knocked me to the deck. He said if I’d held harder, she wouldn’t have, wouldn’t have…” he stopped, overcome. Josef waited for him to continue, patient. Ned took another deep breath, and looked up at him, eyes shining with tears. “I haven’t told this to anyone in a very long time.”

“I understand.”

“The rest of the voyage, he stayed drunk, lying in his bunk with a bottle of rum, weeping. I didn’t exist anymore for him, I think. I was wandering the ship, and the ship’s doctor took a fancy to me. He got me started, playing chess. He said that I was the right age to start. It’s funny, but I can recall what he looked like, but not his name. He had kind eyes, I know. Brown eyes.” Ned looked at the man watching him so closely. “Brown eyes,” he said again. “When we got to New York, Papa and I found a place with some other people from the village where Papa was born, and they helped us, for a time. But he was never right again, never sober for long. There was barely money to keep us under a roof, and fed, most of the time. No money for school for me. I used to do some work, and when I could, Sundays, mostly, I went to Washington Square and watched the old men playing chess. Sometimes, they let me play, too. It was something I could look forward to. And when I was fourteen or so, Papa died, left me to find my own way. It was hard, but in a way, it was easier without him. There was no one to beat me, no one to rave at me anymore. I guess you know about the peace of being alone.”

“Yes, it has occurred to me. But it’s not always good. You were scraping by, and then?”

“And then one day, about two years ago, I was in the park, late in the afternoon, hoping for a last game, and a lady walking by stumbled. I don’t know why, but I went to help her, and she smiled at me in a way I’d never seen. It was Madame Rose…”

“I see.” Josef arose smoothly from his seat, came to lay a hand on Ned’s shoulder. “You’ll be all right here, Ned.” He pulled a pocket watch out of his waistcoat and consulted it. “Thank you for the story. And now it’s time for me to keep an appointment.”

Ned stood, watching as Josef left the room. His eyes were troubled, wondering if he should have told his story so completely. Maybe it was the blood loss, maybe it was just the strangeness of a new place. But he felt both alone, and oddly at home, at last.

[eris]

Ned's story is so sad. Why is it always so easy to blame kids for things they have no control over?

[francis]

Ned has a sad story. Seems to me that the freshie business is a way to get such lost souls away from the streets and into comfortable living. Josef has lots of experience, but every new freshie is a new person. I'm curious how this story will go on.

[Albra]

Sad Ned's story ...
What will happen with him ... I'm curious about it and about Tessa's story as well, and ...
OK, I know ... ... I must wait ...

Thank you, Librarian

[NightAir]

The defining moment of Ned's life is heartbreaking. He effectively lost both parents at once. His life had already changed for the better when he became a swallow. How much more will it now that he has met Josef?

I'm eager to see how Ned fits into the overall story.

Great update!

[JosefsRose]

Such a hard start for one so young. I know Josef will do right by him. I love these historical Josef pieces. Thank you Librarian_7

Jenny

[librarian_7]

Thanks for the comments. I wanted to give Ned a background that would be not too unusual for the time and place, and it was not strange for a boy his age to be orphaned (or as good as orphaned), and not educated. He could as easily fallen into crime, or a job that would have ground him into nothing...so yes, his encounter with Madame Rose was fortunate.

I think the next chapter will be out a bit sooner. *fingers crossed*

Lucky

[cassysj]

Ned does have a very sad story but unfortunately a lot of parents blame their children for tragedy in their life.

I'm glad he feels some peace in Josef's house and I look forward to more of this story.

[Phoenix]

“When they finally let go of him, he came over to me. He put his hand back, and hit me, knocked me to the deck. He said if I’d held harder, she wouldn’t have, wouldn’t have…” he stopped, overcome. Josef waited for him to continue, patient. Ned took another deep breath, and looked up at him, eyes shining with tears. “I haven’t told this to anyone in a very long time.”

Poor Ned.

[moonlight_vixen]

God, poor Ned I know that Josef will do right by him...

[RangerCM]

You are such a wonderful story teller! Ned's story is so sad. Hope his future is brighter now.

Loving this story!!

[darkstarrising]

Ned's expectations are exceeded when he arrives at Josef's and his confusion and apprehension tell their own tale. He's not had much in his life and the back story you've given him explains why.

I felt for Ned as he stood in Josef's presence, aware of what was expected of him, but nervous nonetheless. For most of his life, no one has given him much, only taken what they could.

The vampire was taking his time, savoring the scent, until Ned was almost trembling from the anticipation. When he bit, the strike was hard , the fangs sliding through skin with more controlled power than Ned would have thought possible. Then the gentle, insistent pull began, and all other thoughts than the peculiar pleasure of it left his head.

Your Ned is a sympathetic character, one without family, or a home. Yet he finds both in the house of a vampire.

Ned stood, watching as Josef left the room. His eyes were troubled, wondering if he should have told his story so completely. Maybe it was the blood loss, maybe it was just the strangeness of a new place. But he felt both alone, and oddly at home, at last.

Looking forward to more of his tale

[one.zebra]

/wipes eyes/ Yes, I think Ned has found a good home.

Sorry, but Ned's dad sounds like he was an alcoholic long before his wife went overboard....you don't get 'normal'.

Great update, thanks!
1z

[Penina Spinka]

Josef showed such kindness to Ned. It warms my heart the way he cares for his people, and I love the way your show it. On to the next, Penina

[mitzie]

Wonderful chapter!! Very sad story of Ned's childhood. I'm sure he'll feel less forlorn being in the "care" of Josef. I love this story, off to read the next chapter...


mitzie