England, 1844

Ysanne Moreau was deeply suspicious of the train.

It rattled beneath her and all around her, and the countryside flashed by the windows far too fast. It was too loud.

Why was everyone getting so excited about these things?

Did they really have a future?

She was less than convinced.

She moved down the corridor, heading for her first class compartment, then paused just outside another compartment. A woman sat inside, her posture rigid, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Clearly Ysanne wasn't the only one who was uncomfortable about this whole thing.

But that wasn't what had made her pause.

The absolute silence from the compartment was.

The woman had no heartbeat.

Intrigued, Ysanne rapped her knuckles on the partition separating the compartments from the corridors.

The woman looked up.

Her hair was blonde – a shade or two darker than Ysanne's – and thickly curly, held back by her face with a velvet ribbon. There was something familiar about that hair, but Ysanne couldn't place it.

The woman's eyes narrowed, then widened as she realised the same thing as Ysanne had.

"May I come in?" Ysanne asked.

The woman nodded.

Ysanne took the seat opposite, resting her elbow on the armrest and trying to look more at ease than she actually was.

"I'm Ysanne Moreau," she said.

"Caoimhe Ó Duinnín."

The voice was familiar too, and Ysanne cast back into her memories, trying to place it.

"You don't seem entirely comfortable with this," Ysanne said, waving a hand around the compartment.

Caoimhe smiled tightly. "It's my first time."

"Mine too."

"Really?"

"I thought I'd see what all the fuss was about."

"It moves too fast. I don't like it," Caoimhe said.

"I can't say I do either."

"Do you think it's safe?" Caoimhe asked.

"You don't believe all this nonsense about people being driven insane by trains in motion, or disintegrating at high speed, do you?" Ysanne said.

"I'm more concerned with the damned thing crashing or coming off the rails or the boiler exploding. It wouldn't be the first time such an accident occurred."

"Then I suppose it's a good thing we're both vampires," Ysanne said.

Caoimhe scrutinised her. "You're French?"

"By birth, yes, though it's been a long time since I lived there. And you're clearly Irish."

Caoimhe's smile was sad around the edges. "It's a while since I've lived in Ireland too. You know how it is for vampires."

"I certainly do. That's why I forced myself to board this contraption. The human world is changing so fast, and it's getting increasingly hard to keep up."

"My feelings exactly." Caoimhe leaned forward. "Have you tried this electricity thing yet?"

"I have."

"What do you think?"

"It's too early to say. It might not catch on at all."

"I thought the same about trains ever since they invented these steam-powered monstrosities, but the railway industry seems to gain ground every day. I suspect this electricity may prove much the same."

"Perhaps," Ysanne said.

"Do you ever worry that we won't be able to keep up?" Caoimhe asked, in a quieter voice. "That this world will simply . . . leave us behind?"

"It has occurred to me."

"You've been around a long time, haven't you?" Caoimhe's stare sharpened. "You have that look about you."

"That look?" Ysanne lifted an eyebrow.

"Like you've seen too much."

Ysanne's gaze slid away from the other woman, roaming to the window and that too-fast countryside. "Maybe I have. I suspect you have too."

"I was turned in 1599. You?"

"1431."

Caoimhe whistled. "You're looking good for it."

"You wouldn't be flirting with me, would you?"

"I'm afraid my tastes don't run that way." Caoimhe's expression faded. "Even if they did, I was in love with someone not so long ago, and . . . he still holds my heart."

"You lost him?"

"Not in the way you think. He fell out of love with me, and I did not with him."

"Whoever he is, he's a fool. Objectively, you're one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen, and as you know, I've been around for a long time."

Caoimhe laughed, a bright, bell-sound, and suddenly Ysanne knew exactly why she recognised that hair and that voice.

She'd heard that laugh before.

"It's you," she blurted before she could think better of it.

"I'm sorry?" Caoimhe frowned.

Ysanne's mind scrambled over the pieces the Irish vampire had given her, hastily fitting them together.

"This man that you were in love with, who was he?"

"Why?" Caoimhe sounded suspicious now, leaning back from Ysanne.

"Because I think I know him," Ysanne said.

Caoimhe silently regarded her. The train continued to rattle.

"His name was Edmond," she said.

"Edmond Dantès," Ysanne said. She shook her head in disbelief. Of all the trains in the country that she'd got on, what were the chances of running into Edmond's former lover?

Former . . .

He'd seemed so happy the last time she'd seen him, but things hadn't worked, and she felt a stab of disappointment on his behalf.

"What happened?" she said.

"Do you really think that's your business?" Caoimhe asked, but her words were gently chiding rather than hostile.

"I have known Edmond a long time and he is very dear to me. I just want to know that he's alright."

Caoimhe's face softened. "It's been years since I last saw him, but he was well when we parted. We simply . . . didn't work together anymore. These things happen."

"But you still love him."

Caoimhe looked away.

They sat in silence for a while, watching the world blur past.

"So just how dear is Edmond to you? How well do you know him?" Caoimhe said, a twinkle in her eye.

Ysanne took a second too long to answer, and Caoimhe laughed.

"Am I right to think that you've taken him to bed, too?" she said.

Ysanne spluttered, trying to find words, and Caoimhe laughed again.

"Then you understand why he still holds my heart. If nothing else, he certainly knows how to please a woman."

Ysanne couldn't help a smile. "I must admit, I never had any complaints in that regard."

Still, her mind slid back to a time before they were lovers, to when Edmond had been a human boy, blushing and scandalised by the thought of sharing a bed with her, even though she had offered nothing but a place to sleep. How he had changed since then.

Caoimhe's laughter faded, and she reclined in her seat. "It wasn't just the sex, though. I do miss him."

"So do I, though only as a friend these days. Do you know where he is now?"

Caoimhe shook her head. "I haven't seen him since we parted. I don't even know if he's still in England."

The hope that had sparked in Ysanne's chest snuffed out.

"Maybe some good will come of these trains, after all," Caoimhe offered.

"How so?"

"If we can move faster across countries, it might be easier for us to find each other."

Ysanne pondered that. "Do you ever get frustrated having to live like this? Never being able to put down roots for too long, never knowing where your friends are because they're always on the move too?"

"Sometimes, yes, but what can we do about it?"

"Don't you ever wish that we didn't have to hide ourselves like this? Imagine what it would be like if people knew what we were and that was alright."

"But it wouldn't be." Caoimhe leaned forward, her face serious. "It's not safe for us to reveal ourselves, and it wouldn't be safe for too many vampires to congregate in one place. It's hard enough avoiding suspicion as a single vampire."

"But must it be that way forever?"

"It's how it's always been."

"The world is changing. We have electricity now, and trains, and have you heard about these cameras? Apparently they can produce images of people."

Caoimhe didn't look convinced.

"Are you content to always live like this?" Ysanne asked.

"It doesn't matter what we are or aren't content with. It only matters that we survive. You must know how humans treat things they don't understand or don't agree with."

Ysanne laughed darkly. "Oh, believe me, I do."

"Then you should understand why I can't comprehend a world in which we don't have to hide."

"I do understand. It just frustrates me."

"It frustrates me, too, but such is our lot in life."

Ysanne glared out of the window. Why did it have to be? Why did the petty fears and ignorant nature of human beings have to dictate the lives of vampires? How different would Ysanne's life have been if she hadn't had to hide? How different would it be for all vampires?

Years ago, in a rocky cove in the middle of the night, a desperate, dangerous vampire had said much the same to her. He'd wanted humans to know about them. His methods had been wrong – turning new vampires and then abandoning them to prey on local villagers – but as the years passed and Ysanne's frustrations mounted, she'd thought about his words more and more often. She'd started to understand them in a way she hadn't then.

Sometimes she wished she hadn't been forced to kill him.

The train started to slow down; Ysanne hadn't even realised they were pulling into a station.

Caoimhe stood up. "I'm afraid this is where I say goodbye. It was lovely to meet you, Ysanne."

"You too," Ysanne said, though she felt a pang of frustration.

If vampires weren't forced to move around so much, she could have stayed in contact with Caoimhe. As it was, she'd probably never see the other woman again, and it could be decades before she ran into another vampire.

Agnes had been right. No one could understand the loneliness of being a vampire unless they had lived it for themselves.

Caoimhe paused before leaving the compartment. "If you should happen to see Edmond again, tell him . . ." She searched for the words, but couldn't seem to find them. "Don't worry," she mumbled. "Goodbye, Ysanne."

Ysanne watched her leave, then turned to the window so she could watch as Caiomhe disembarked the train and was quickly lost to the crowd milling about on the platform.

When the train started pulling away from the station, Ysanne pressed her palm to the cool windowpane. Everything that Caoimhe had said was right – it wasn't safe for vampires to come out of the shadows.

But that didn't mean it always had to be that way.

Did it?

Other vampires would probably think her mad, and maybe they were right, but Ysanne couldn't stop thinking about it. She couldn't stop imagining the possibility of a world in which people knew they existed, and didn't hate them for it.

Maybe it was a foolish dream, but Ysanne couldn't seem to let it go. 

Next week, we're catching up with Isabeau :)