It’s hard to believe it’s already December. Today I’m beginning to serially publish another novel, The Vanquished and the Surviving, here on Whimsical Words. The first couple chapters are free to all subscribers. If you don’t want to miss future chapters, please become a paid subscriber.
I began writing about “a slightly different Regency England” with faeries, ghosts, demons, and vampires back in the 1990s. I’d been writing neurotic short stories, often with autobiographical elements, and I decided I wanted to write something fun. “Fun” turned out to be gothic, dark fantasy about the Montmorency twins, Margot and Roland, and their social circle.
The protagonist of The Vanquished and the Surviving is their cousin, Vincent, and the novel is based on a dream. That’s right: my subconscious made this up.
The Vanquished and the Surviving
In a slightly different Regency England, fourteen-year-old Vincent de Montmorency leaves a theater with his brother, Nathaniel, who disappears before his eyes. A suspicious lady and gentleman drag Vincent into their barouche and claim to have consumed Nathaniel’s soul and intend to do the same to Vincent. The couple spontaneously combusts inside the carriage. Cloaked figures accuse Vincent of killing them and take him away. He must spend years imprisoned in a tower, while a hostile tutor trains him to suppress the new Sensitive ability he doesn’t want. But who are these cloaked figures who capture “dangerous” Sensitives, what has Nathaniel to do with them, who is Cornelius Fawlkin, and how can they be stopped?
Acknowledgements
I thank my critique partners, Sheila and Caralee, who gave me a wealth of helpful feedback on this and other novels.
Chapter 1
A Slightly Different England, September 1816
Vincent felt small and bewildered amid rattling carriages, clopping horse hooves, jogging stable boys, trotting pedestrians, and the aroma of horse droppings. Nathaniel, the seventeen-year-old Viscount of Whisperwood, slid through the crowd ahead of his younger brother Vincent, away from the theater where they had minutes ago seen A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
Vincent’s footsteps echoed on the cobblestones as he slipped between the horses and carriages clogging the street. He hurried in search of their family’s carriage, which customarily waited outside the theater’s front steps—but not tonight. Coachmen called to horses, and behind the two boys, theatergoers talked and laughed. Vincent blinked when a cold raindrop moistened his Roman nose.
Nathaniel halted at the curb. Vincent bumped into him and hastily stepped around his brother to stand beside him. Nathaniel was frowning and scanning the street before them. “It seems odd the landau isn’t waiting for us. Something is quite wrong.”
Fourteen-year-old Vincent stood scanning Catherine Street up and down for their private carriage. “What makes you think that?” Mildly ill at ease in reaction to his brother’s ominous tone, Vincent hunched his shoulders slightly and clenched his gloved fists. “Oh, perhaps some odious sprites came along, giggling helplessly, and took the landau and horses away. As for Marvin, he was so taken with the little mites that he dropped the reins and followed them.”
Nathaniel laughed heartily. “No Fae live in the city. You know full well.”
“Not even vicious sprites?” Vincent peered up at his brother.
Nathaniel watched with wide, frightened eyes and perspiration on his brow, as the sundry horses and rattling carriages departed. “I have more confidence in our coachman than you have,” Nathaniel said. “Really, something must be wrong.”
“I suppose the horses were spooked. Martin will bring the landau around soon.”
“Don’t be so certain.” Nathaniel grasped his hands together.
Vincent felt a prickling on the back of his neck, an intuitive sense his brother was correct. He shook his head. “What is this, Nathaniel? Surely nothing more alarming happened than Martin taking the carriage to a pub. It might affect his driving adversely. Or do you have some reason to be so alarmed?”
Despite his words, Vincent sensed something was terribly wrong indeed. His heart fluttered, and cold perspiration wetted his brow. He swirled around to look behind. Standing in place, he turned his head to each side, watching the people and horses pass by and listening to the rattling carriages and the rumbling human voices.
He faced forward again, and he couldn’t see Nathaniel.
“Nathaniel!” Vincent stepped down to the cobblestone street, and as he crossed a horse’s path, it whinnied faintly at him. A coachman yelled. The boy scarcely acknowledged the horse and coachman—he was alone on a dark street and desperately wished to know the location of his brother. That was first and foremost on his mind, as he sprinted across the street and scanned ahead in the darkness lit only by a crescent moon and scattered gas streetlamps and carriage lamps.
“Nathaniel, where are you!” Vincent wished he’d been holding his brother’s hand. He might have looked childish, but at least Nathaniel would not have strayed.
A passing couple turned their heads to peer down at him with frowns. They continued walking in the opposite direction.
Vincent froze as he saw, on a corner diagonally across the street, Nathaniel standing under an unlit streetlamp. Vincent recognized his brother’s wide blue eyes, pale face, and short, tightly-curled dark brown hair. Edging closer until he was directly across the street from Nathaniel, Vincent wondered what happened to his brother’s top hat.
Two adults stood facing Nathaniel, maybe three feet away. In the dim light, Vincent observed one wore a black cape and a large bonnet, and the other wore a dark, many-caped overcoat and trousers. The next sight justified Vincent’s sense of doom. Vincent froze.
Nathaniel emitted a green glow. It began in the center of his greatcoat. The glow became stronger every second, until it covered his entire person. Nathaniel continued standing still.
Inch by inch, the couple backed away from Nathaniel. To Vincent’s astonishment, their faces, illuminated by the glowing green light, appeared calm. Vincent simultaneously felt terrified, curious, and hopeful the strangers’ lack of alarm indicated that Nathaniel was safe. Perhaps he was demonstrating a harmless magical experiment. But Nathaniel was a practitioner of science, not magic.
“Nathaniel!” Vincent screamed as he ran across the slippery cobblestones. He ignored a pair of grays rearing up inches away from his head.
“Here, now!” a gruff voice yelled. “Watch where you’re going, lad!”
“Nathaniel!” Vincent saw his brother still glowing. “What—what are you doing?”
His shoes pounding against the cobblestones, Vincent charged across the slick and bumpy surface. He gasped, while ice-cold raindrops ran down his cheeks and nose.
A few feet away, he observed Nathaniel’s face twisted in horror. The older boy’s mouth gaped open. Uttering a choking sound, he moved his lips as though trying to answer his little brother.
At the edge of the street, Vincent stood gape-mouthed and felt utterly useless. His heart still fluttered. He felt dizzy and nauseated. He stepped between the couple and his brother and stood two feet from Nathaniel.
“Too late, little boy,” the man said behind Vincent, who paid no heed.
“Nathaniel!” With both trembling hands, Vincent reached toward his green brother. The burning heart, glowing in the boy’s green center, arrested Vincent’s attention, so he refrained from stepping closer.
As Vincent watched with his jaw slack, Nathaniel seemed to disintegrate from within. The center of his body became little green dots. Nathaniel became increasingly more translucent—Vincent saw through him.
Finally, not only his center, but also his entire body became glowing dots, The dots became fewer and fewer. Nathaniel no longer stood in front of Vincent.
Staring ahead at the dark space no longer occupied by his brother, Vincent froze and scarcely heeded a passerby jostling his shoulder. He felt as though he were having a nightmare and hoped to awake as soon as possible. He futilely strove to collect his thoughts. The raindrops streaming down his face felt like tears.