Bride of the Night

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

FINN STOOD BY CAPTAIN TREMBLAY near the helm; Billy Seabold held the wheel. The wind was staying with them, and the sails billowed beautifully against the bright blue sky.
"Coming closer, and the sailing goes smoothly," Captain Tremblay said.
"Coming closer," Finn agreed. He looked at the captain. "I'm hoping all will be well. I've asked Tara to use a few of her special abilities to ensure it."
Tremblay frowned. "Her abilities? The young woman is quite amazing, more adept with a sword than a good portion of the army, I dare say. But, with good luck and God's help, we'll not come across another ship laden with diseased!"
"Well, sir, I know this sounds quite absurd, but then, the situation we've been in has been quite absurd. Tara has other abilities." He spoke loudly. Dr. MacKay was seated on a barrel not far from them, writing in a journal. Grissom was repairing a sail near the helm and several of the other men were involved in mundane tasks of one kind or another in the near vicinity. Whatever he said would be repeated over and over again, until his words were heard by every man on the ship. "She has a strange sense of inner sight, I suppose you might say. There are times when she can see what others are thinking. And when something is dire, or eventful, she can sometimes use that to predict what's going to happen."
Tremblay frowned. "Ah, but did the young lady see any of the events that have so recently plagued us?"
"A few of them, sir," Finn said. "The human mind is an amazing puzzle, so, no, Tara doesn't see all events, just some. It's extremely strange, more than just all the talk you hear about mediums and seances from other venues. Tara can sometimes tap into someone else's mind. I know it to be true, because she's told me about events and people that only I know about."
"I'd have said that all 'spiritualism' was botch!" Captain Tremblay said. "Not long ago, aye, that's what I would have said. The armed forces and half the country have whispered about President Lincoln and his wife, Mary. They say she went off the wall when they lost little Willie in the White House. Seance practices going on-and even the president taking part! I thought it all true rubbish! Now...well, now I say that anything is possible."
He looked at Finn and said seriously, "If only she soon sees into the heart of the traitor who has caused the death and destruction of so many good men!"
"Yes, we can certainly pray that happens. The time grows short before we reach the naval yards at D.C.," Finn said.
"Aye, we'll be on fierce guard!" Tremblay said.
Finn nodded, and walked down the deck toward Dr. MacKay. "A journal, Doctor? It will be interesting to see how you have recorded these days."
MacKay looked up at him sheepishly. "It's interesting recording the truth, and should anyone read what I've written, the truth will surely be regarded as fiction. Actually, I'm thinking of writing it all up as fiction, and perhaps repairing my prewar business by selling this wild story to some publisher."
"Where do you hail from, Doctor?" Finn asked.
"Massachusetts. A little town just outside Boston. My grandfather fought in the American Revolution," MacKay said proudly.
"Was he a doctor, too?" Finn asked.
"No. He was an evil-doer!" MacKay said, laughing. "A politician, but he went to war, fought with General Washington and survived Valley Forge. He lived to tell the tale, and see that I made it through medical school at Harvard."
"Well, then, all the best with your...fiction," Finn said, nodding and walking away. Heading toward the portside rail, he found Charles Lafferty fishing. They were moving at a good clip, but Lafferty was still sending out a line.
"Any luck?" Finn asked him.
"Aye, believe it or not. Three big cod so far! Hoping to have fresh fish for all by suppertime tonight," Lafferty said cheerfully.
"Continued good fortune. I confess, I couldn't begin to fish under these circumstances," Finn told him. "We're moving at a good speed."
"Keeps the bait moving, which the fish like," Lafferty said. He shrugged. "And I come from a long line of fishermen, so it's something I've done since I was a child."
"Are you from Massachusetts, too?"
"Too?"
"The doctor is from the Boston area," Finn said.
"Ah, yes, of course. I did know that. Our pasts have all been lost in the years of the war, I'm afraid...?. I'm not from Boston. Gloucester, man, Gloucester! A beautiful place, but brutal sometimes, when winter comes. And still, in winter, we went out to make some of our finest catches, that we did!"
"I daresay, it's almost time that we may look to our old lives again," Finn said, and nodding, he headed down the steps, anxious to see what was going on below. Three of the men were sleeping. Richard and two others were watching over the sleeping men, playing a game of cards.
"All is well here?" Finn asked Richard.
Richard nodded. "One of us dozes off now and then. No one has slept well. But we're doing all right."
"Have you slept?" he asked Richard.
"Enough," Richard assured him.
Finn bid good day to the others and returned topside. He walked back to Tara's cabin, knocked and entered.
She was awake and pretending to give her attention to a book. It was upside down. He righted it for her.
"It has begun," he told her.
"What do we do now?" she asked him, her beautiful hazel eyes as bright as a brushfire.
What was going to happen when they reached Washington?
If they reached Washington.
They had to. The threat aboard the ship was great, and as the days passed, he found himself growing ever more concerned. He had never felt torn like this in his life, lost in a pair of eyes, the scent and every movement and breath of a woman...?.
And such a fear for the future.
"Finn?" she said, puzzled as she stared back at him.
He couldn't allow his feelings for her to jeopardize the discovery they must make, and the ultimate shipboard battle they must win.
"We wait," he told her. He smiled. "You now have truly remarkable powers! They'll all be watching you."
"And you?"
"I'll be watching them," he told her quietly.
FINN WAS STRANGE. But, of course he was; she was surely strange herself. They were tense, waiting for the horrible event that was sure to occur.
As the day wore on and the afternoon arrived, Finn was convinced that his words about her "abilities" had traveled through the men on the ship. She wandered out on deck with her book-carefully held in the upright position-and found a seat near the helm where the breeze was cool but the day bright, and the sun like a sweet beacon in the sky.
She wasn't there long before she heard her name called softly.
"Miss Fox!"
She turned. Billy Seabold was standing by the rail behind her, staring at her with a curious expression.
"Yes, Billy?" she said, turning to look at him.
"Would you...would you talk with me in private a bit?"
Tension gripped her muscles as if a great hand had clamped down upon her.
"Of course, Billy," she managed to say.
Captain Tremblay was standing by the helm; Charles Lafferty had the great wheel.
Finn was down in the center of the ship talking with Dr. MacKay, and Richard was topside with Grissom and London, cleaning and filleting a cache of fish.
She stood, and eased toward the stern with Billy. She tried to make sure that she kept a distance of a few feet between them.
He struggled to speak for a minute. "I hear that you have very special powers, Miss Fox."
"Perhaps that information is something that shouldn't have been shared by Agent Dunne," she murmured.
He touched her arm, as if reaching for her. She gripped the rail hard, not wanting to appear to be frightened of him. He started to speak again, and then hesitated. He moved a bit closer to her, and she looked around, hoping that the others were watching.
"Miss Fox, I have to know," he said.
"You have to know what, Billy?"
He let out a long breath. He was even closer. She was nearly pinned to the rail.
"I need to know about..."
His face was so close to hers. She felt that she could almost see him change, almost see something come over his face and his eyes. She was afraid that when he opened his mouth again, she would see that his fangs had extended, and that he wasn't the young man she had thought that she had known.
"Eric Wordsmith," he said.
"Pardon?"
Billy began to speak quickly. "He was my mate. My best friend. We opted into the navy together, and he was killed in a sea battle early on in the war. He was terrified of hell, but he was a good fellow, he really was. He thought that God would damn us all for taking arms against our brothers. I think about him night and day, and I'm praying that you can see...that Eric rests in heaven."
"What's going on here?" Finn demanded suddenly, breaking between them.
Billy flushed to the roots of his hair.
"It's all right, it's all right!" Tara said quickly. "Billy just had a question for me, Finn. That's all. Just a question."
Billy backed away. "I mean, begging your pardon, please?" he said to Tara. "You see, it was my fault that Eric was in this thing. I wanted to be in the navy, and Eric joined up because of me."
She smiled at him. "Billy, I believe that God knows that men were forced to make a choice. I think He knows that Eric was a good man, caught up in a horrible war. God weeps at the loss of life, and we all have to hope that it's been for a greater cause, and we'll all go on to a better life. I doubt you need to worry, Billy. I believe that your friend rests with God, in heaven, and that all will be well for him."
Billy reached for her hands in a sudden motion that brought Finn instantly stepping between them.
"It's all right!" she said softly. She squeezed Billy's hands.
He smiled at her gratefully. "Your pardon, Agent Dunne," he said to Finn, and then he walked away, heading toward the fish-cleaning project, whistling a sad tune as he walked.
Tara looked at Finn and grimaced. "Most likely, the men will just be asking me about their loved ones who have died," she said.
"I'm sorry, but I needed to start something about your mental powers of observation. I hadn't anticipated that those would be the primary questions they'd have...?."
"It's fine. It's just that I can't see behind the veil of death. How will I know if someone is asking me about a human monster?"
He studied her intently for a moment. "Your dreams of Abraham Lincoln seem to be so intense and real. Maybe you do see more than you imagine."
"I can't see who the monster might be," she said quietly. She shook her head. "Finn, perhaps he or she isn't aboard the ship. You have been a detective for a long time. And," she added softly, looking around, "you are half vampire-you should be able to see who this is!"
He was frustrated; she saw that instantly. His fists clenched at his sides and his features tightened, but she knew that he wasn't angry with her.
"I can't see, and that makes me really afraid. Believe me, this vampire is here. And he's old, and far more experienced than me."
She tried to appear strong and confident.
"Perhaps then, you shouldn't spend so much time with me. Let the others come," she said.
He nodded. "I will be near. I will be watching. At all times."
"So I pray. And now, sir, if you will please...go."
Finn walked away, heading to the helm where he spoke with Captain Tremblay. Soon after, Richard left his work and came to stand by her.
"All is well?" he asked softly.
She wrinkled her nose. "You smell like fish."
"You won't be looking down at me like that tonight when you dine on cod fillets, Miss Fox!"
She smiled, but her smile faded quickly. "I am fine. How are you doing? Richard, I fear for you. You are so often among the men, and with this building air of distrust...?."
"They're tired," he said. "Even spelling one another in groups of three to see that we are on guard for one another. Today, I was on guard shift with two of the men-Samuels and Humphrey-and Humphrey dozed off. Samuels went to wake him, and I nearly panicked and attacked Samuels. The anxiety among us is growing, but not for nationalistic reasons."
"With every mile," she said. "Every man walks about, doing his duty. But I see that they are strained. I see it in their faces."
"Nothing will happen by day," Richard said.
"You're so certain?"
"Aye, this man will wait for the darkness," he told her. He smiled then. "I smell that badly of fish? I will go wash up, and leave you to your observations."
Richard left her. She gave her attention to her book. It was an excellent book-Tales of the Sea-but she couldn't make her eyes focus on the words and they began to blur before her. As she read, a man would approach her now and then, asking what she saw for them, if anything.
Many asked about their loved ones.
The wind shifted direction. Captain Tremblay shouted orders, and the men scurried about to trim the sails.
And finally, the sun began to lower in the western sky.
Billy Seabold and several of the men prepared a smoke over with a large pot and coal from the steam room, and soon the smell of the fresh-cooked fish began to waft across the deck. Rum portions were ladled out, and limes and coconuts and other still-fresh produce completed the meal.
Everyone was topside; none of the men were sleeping.
As she ate, Tara tried to speak with all the men, pretending that she wasn't aware of the way they all looked at her, wondering just what might lurk in her mind.
When she had finished with her fish and thanked Billy Seabold and the others, she found that Captain Tremblay was behind her. He wanted to lure her back to the helm with him.
She looked at him. No! It can't be this man, it can't be!
But she let herself be led.
The captain excused Grissom, who had been at the wheel, and took over the helm himself. And as he looked ahead he asked her, "Can you see the future? Can you really see the dead?"
"I see some things," she said.
He nodded, still looking ahead. Richard and Finn were together, she noticed. And she was certain they were both aware of her situation.
She forced herself to stand still; Tremblay seemed to be shaking. His hands on the wheel were knotted hard.
"God help me...is the war ending?" he asked.
She tried not to let him see the instant frown that creased her forehead. "I believe so, sir."
"But you don't...see it?"
"No," she told him quietly. "I know what you know, sir. That the South is drastically short on supplies, that the young men die and cannot be replaced. That the North, with its great manufacturing abilities, is making more and more guns, and that more and more immigrants are stepping off ships to join the Union ranks. I believe that generals such as Lee are desperately hoping for a great victory to turn the tide-and God knows, Lee is a great general-but his men and his resources are being depleted."
Tremblay winced. "Do you see me surviving the war?"
Tara was surprised by his question, but even more surprised when it seemed that her vision clouded. She was looking at Tremblay, but she was not seeing him as he stood at the helm. She saw him, stricken, holding his chest, with a pool of blood surrounding him. The image was so strong that for a moment she felt as if she would cry out loud. She gave herself a mental shake, and she spoke quickly, "Captain Tremblay, I can't see all futures-really, I can't."
But what had she seen?
Shaken, she excused herself quickly.
She headed back to the center of the ship where others were still milling, finishing their meals. Grissom sat up on the rail, playing his harmonica. But no one was laughing or joking, and the songs that Grissom played only added to the melancholy.
She walked over to stand by Richard and Finn and she said quietly, "I think I should go back to the cabin."
"I'll escort you," Finn said.
When he entered the cabin, he made a thorough search of the small space before sighing and taking a seat at the desk, the look upon his face one of deep frustration.
"Anything?" he asked her. "Anything at all?"
She wanted to go to him, to touch his face, to curl up on his lap and somehow be able to reassure him that they would be all right. But they weren't all right, and she was afraid. She shook her head. "I'm sorry. Tremblay...I was afraid that I saw him dying when he spoke to me. And Billy wanted to know about a friend. And I tried to look at each man and see how he looked at me in return, but...nothing."
Finn nodded, looking toward the curtained windows. "Darkness is coming quickly," he said. "And now, I'm afraid for you to go out among them, afraid of what I've done. Still, I see no other alternative."
She didn't get a chance to answer him; she wasn't able to say that it was all right. There was a demanding knock at the door and a cry for help. "Finn! Agent Dunne!"
Finn rose quickly and threw the door open. Dr. MacKay was standing there. There was a slash on his face and blood oozed from it; he seemed unaware.
"What is it, man? For God's sake, what is it?" Finn demanded.
"Down below...we don't even know how it started, but the men are all at one another-they're afraid of each other...?. It's horrible!" MacKay shouted.
"I'm coming," Finn said. He turned to Tara. "Lock yourself in here. Don't let anyone in, anyone but me!"
He hurried out the door. MacKay stared at Tara so long she thought that he was going to smile suddenly.
"MacKay!" Finn said.
Dr. MacKay turned and followed Finn out of the room.
Tara began to pace. She looked at the door and longed to follow the men below and find out what was happening.
The ship gave a sudden pitch, nearly sending her to the floor.
There was no one at the helm, she thought.
She chafed, catching her balance, standing for a moment to feel the yaw and move beneath her.
She couldn't just stay there!
"Tara!"
There was a banging at her door, and the muffled sound of someone calling her in great distress.
Don't open the door; Finn had told her not to open the door.
She stood still, waiting. She heard the voice again.
"Tara, please! Tara, it's Richard!"
Richard! Of course he had not meant Richard. She walked quickly to the door, drew the bolt and opened it.
Richard staggered in. There was blood dripping down his forehead, covering part of his shirt and crusted around his neck.
"Sit down, sit down, quickly, before you fall!" she told him, grabbing his arm and dragging him to the chair. "What happened? What's going on? Where's Finn?"
"Finn...he's trying to...restore some kind of order."
"What happened?" she demanded.
"I don't even know...don't know where it started. We were suddenly all defending ourselves from...from one another. One of the men...London! He looked at me and cut me with his knife. And then the others thought it was me, and I cried out that London had started it, and he cried out saying that it was another...and suddenly we were all belowdeck, and no one knows who started attacking who and-"
"Let me see to your wounds," Tara said.
"No, no!" he said, trying to push her away.
"Richard, damn you, sit still!" she said.
She jerked his hand away from his throat, and it was then that she saw the marks there that told her the truth. He had been bitten. He jumped to his feet with a sudden strength and energy that astounded her, and she fell back, staring at him.
"Richard, you need a doctor, and you need one fast," she told him.
He looked at her, shaking his head. "I have to stop you," he said, his voice thick. "I..." He paused, as if in great confusion. "I...have to stop you."
He lumbered toward her. She gripped him by the shoulders, and was surprised by the electric feel of him, and the strength in him.
"Richard! Stop!" she commanded.
To her relief, he fell back. Again, confusion reigned in his face, and a sudden sob escaped him. "I don't know...I don't understand. My God, what has taken hold of me?"
He fell back against the wall. "I am to kill you," he said, horrified.
Then he brought hands to his temples, as if he could squeeze his mind between them. "He's telling me that I have to kill you, but I cannot-a thousand bees are stinging my head!"
He pushed away from the wall. He shook his head and stared at her, and it seemed as if his eyes burned, and then went blank. Her sword rested on the desk. Richard reached for it. She knew that he was an excellent swordsman; he had taught her how to fight.
He came at her, and she waited. When he was almost upon her, she sprang into a leap and jumped over his head, pushing off the ceiling as a springboard and coming down hard upon his back. She latched onto him with a vice grip, but he shook her off and turned.
"Richard, it is me, Tara. I am your best friend. I am your sister, and you don't want to hurt me. God knows, I don't want to hurt you!" she cried.
He paused. His arm went slack.
There were tears in his eyes. "I love you!" he said.
She went forward swiftly, hoping to wrest the sword from him while he stood in weakness.
But the fire shot back into his eyes. He clenched the sword with an iron grasp and she nearly impaled herself upon it.
"Richard, no!"
He came forward in a single bound, pinning her to the desk. He started to raise the sword.
"Richard, it's Tara, your friend, your lifelong friend! Stop!"
He stood, frozen, staring at her, and again the tears appeared in the depths of his eyes.
"No, no, no!" he cried out.
He was frozen above her; she didn't know if he would gain control, or if the sword would fall.
But the door burst open.
Finn rushed in, and the sword was ripped from Richard's arms. Finn spun him around, ready to use the sword to decapitate Richard.
"No!" Tara cried, rushing forward, and forcing Finn to stay his blade.
"Tara, he's been bitten, infected," Finn said harshly.
"But he can be cured! I know he can be cured. Finn, no!" she cried.
They heard a scream from the deck.
Finn drew his pistol. Tara screamed herself, certain that he meant to ignore her for the good of the nation and shoot Richard point-blank.
But he didn't.
He brought the gun smashing hard against Richard's skull, and her old friend went down without a sound and lay in a heap on the floor.
"Bind him well," Finn ordered. "Make sure he cannot escape, do you understand me? Next time, I will have to kill him."
More cries had arisen from the deck. Tara did as bidden, using sheets and ripping down the curtains to assure herself that she could bind Richard's wrists and ankles, and then tie him to the bed.
When she finished, she heard more cries from the deck. She couldn't stay there when beyond the door men were dying, and a demon had created mayhem.
She threw open the door. Captain Tremblay stood before her.
Stood, as he had in her vision, earlier that day.
His crisp white naval shirt was covered in blood.
She cried out and hurried to him.
And he fell into her arms.
Looking around, she saw that the men all engaged in battle against one another. It was horrible to behold. She looked at Captain Tremblay's throat, and she found no marks. She dragged him back into the cabin and laid him upon the stripped bed.
Quickly, she ripped open his shirt and discovered that he had taken a stab wound to his chest. She staunched it the best she could, and tried to feel the depth of it. He was losing a great deal of blood. She had to stop the flow.
As she did so, the door burst open.
MacKay. He was gasping for breath, and like the others, he seemed to have been sprayed with blood. His eyes were wide and panicked, and he stumbled into the room. He grasped her arm, hard, and for a moment, panic seized her. She leaped to her feet, throwing him off. He went flying against the cabin wall, and sank down, dazed. He didn't even seem to realize that she had thrown him off.
"It's bedlam! Blood, there's so much blood-everyone attacking everyone!"
Tara walked over to him, reached down for his hands and jerked him to his feet. When he was standing, she slapped him hard against the cheek.
He let out a cry of indignation, and his eyes flew wide open. And then he stared at her and let out a long breath, moaning softly.
"My God, I am a coward," he said remorsefully.
"You have to help the captain. He is bleeding to death. I've tried to stop the flow, but you must do something," she said.
"The captain!" he said, and he seemed to recover his senses. Richard groaned, and MacKay seemed to notice him for the first time.
"What...you have him trussed like a Christmas pig," he said, staring at Tara. "Not Richard, oh, Lord, not Richard..."
"No, not Richard, but he's been bitten. Don't let him up. Go over there, and help the captain!" she commanded.
"Yes, yes, of course, the captain."
MacKay rushed to Captain Tremblay's side and quickly removed the wad of cloth Tara had used to stop the flow of blood. She saw him probe the captain and study the wound. "No vital organs have been hit. It is not too deep, though it bleeds severely. I can staunch the flow and clean the wound-alcohol, whatever you have in here-but he'll need proper stitches," he said.
Tara hurried to obey his request, digging in the desk for a bottle of rum.
"I need my bag," he told her. "I need my sutures and needles."
"Where are they?"
"Below, beneath the lowest bunk closest to the aft," he told her.
"I will get them. Whatever you do, don't let Richard loose!"
She rose and headed to the cabin door.
The cries and the awful sound of swordplay, steel against steel, could still be heard from the deck.
She started out. As she did so, Billy Seabold fell back against the wall of the cabin. He looked exhausted; his sword had fallen to his side.
"Billy, are you injured?" she asked quickly.
"I don't know...I don't know...?. Help me, oh, God, please help me, Tara!"
He was about to topple over fully but she caught him, dragging him back into the cabin. It was growing crowded but she found a place on the floor, near the bunk.
"Another!" MacKay said, groaning. "My supplies will not go so far!"
Tara bent over Billy herself. His eyes had closed, and she touched his cheek.
When he opened his eyes, he looked up at her and smiled. "You are really so sweet, Tara. What a pity. I began to tell you that tale about Eric, and all you wanted to do was reassure me. But, of course, there was no Eric...?."
It wasn't until his last words registered in her mind that Tara realized the awful truth of it all.
He gripped her shoulders, and his hold was so powerful that she thought her bones would shatter. He threw her from him and came to his feet. MacKay cried out with a sound of horror, and remained frozen next to the unconscious captain.
Tara kept herself from falling back. She looked quickly for the sword, but it was down by Richard. She didn't know if she could reach it in time.
"Why?" she whispered to Billy. "Why all this death and mayhem?"
He barely moved; it was as if he leaped in a puff of smoke, and was directly in front of her again, staring into her eyes.
"Why? Because the predators among us will be strong. And because the idiots on the battlefield aren't doing enough." He smiled, and worked his jaw, and it opened wide. All she saw were eerily long fangs gleaming with an opalescence she had never witnessed before.
"Why?" he asked again. "Because I am Gator, and Lincoln must die. But I'm ever so afraid, my lovely little creature, you must die first."