by JG Faherty
I wasted no time loading Flora into the cart and covering her with linens. Then it was off to my house, where my night of miracles continued. No police stood outside. Either they’d come and gone or Ben had yet to alert them.
With the thickening fog providing a cover for my illicit actions, I brought Flora inside and up to my bedroom. There I bathed her face and arms with a damp cloth, removing the worst of the grime from the night’s excursion. She still appeared more dead than alive, her skin pale as the bedsheets, her eyes sunken into dark hollows. But her chest rose and fell, assuring me of continued life.
I sat by the bed for a while, my eyes fixed on my beautiful miracle. A few times I reached out, brushed her limp hair away from her face. I stroked her hand, marveling at how the wound on her arm had healed to a pale scar. I refused to turn my back for even a second, for fear that in a moment of inattention she might stop breathing.
A soft whinny from outside reminded me I had other responsibilities to deal with. Fudge needed to be returned to her stable; her presence on the street would bring unwanted attention. Even more importantly, my cupboards were bare. Flora would require food and drink in order to regain her strength before we left Innsmouth. Because one thing had become perfectly apparent to me as I contemplated my gift from the gods.
We couldn’t stay in town.
Hero I might be, but I had no doubt that bringing a dead woman to life would just as quickly turn me into a villain of the worst kind in the eyes of the citizens. In league with the Devil, or at least demons. Conducting godless experiments on corpses.
He’s just like his father! they’d cry, and this time they’d be right. Not the transmogrified creature who’d consorted with evil to destroy the city, but rather the human who’d acted out of love to save someone dear to them. Only no one would see it that way. I’d be locked in a cell forever and Flora…she’d likely as not be burned alive as an abomination.
We had to escape, and sooner rather than later. Like my original plan so long ago before she was injured. We would hide in my house until she had enough strength to travel and then leave under cover of darkness, make a new start somewhere far away. Texas, perhaps. Or California. A place where people valued privacy and a man’s reputation was based on his skills and ethics, not his family history. It angered me that instead of beginning our new life with a hero’s reward in my pocket we’d be penniless and bereft of status, but so be it.
Better alive and poor than dead.
With Flora showing no signs of waking, I took a chance and exited the house through the back door. After returning Fudge and rewarding her with extra hay and some sweet carrots, I located a grocer who was still open despite the late hour. Upon leaving the rather disreputable place – his customers appeared more interested in laying bets than purchasing food – I made my way home, keeping to the alleys and side streets. Even my brief appearance in public had my stomach in knots and I did my best to stay out of sight, preferring the possible risks of cutpurses to the very real danger of arrest and imprisonment.
My nerves didn’t calm until after I’d shut and locked my door behind me and pulled the shades down on all the windows.
After checking on Flora, who still slumbered like a bewitched fairy- tale princess, I fixed myself a meal of cured meats and cheese and brought a second plate up to the bedroom, along with a book from my library. After placing the food on the nightstand, I took my seat and attempted to read. But within a few pages I found my eyes closing and my head dropping to my chest.
That wouldn’t do. I needed to be awake and alert when Flora woke. So I went to my washbasin and scrubbed the worst of the grime from my face, neck, and arms. Then I changed into clothes more suitable for traveling: rough black trousers and simple white shirt that could be paired with an afternoon jacket, a heavy sweater, or a coat, depending on the weather. I was just smoothing my dampened hair back when a sound from the bed brought me running to Flora’s side, where I found her shaking her head and moaning, as if in the midst of a terrible dream.
“Flora,” I said, patting her cheek. “Flora, can you hear me?”
Her eyes flew open and she gasped. Her body thrashed even more, and I held her arms.
“Flora! Calm yourself. You’re safe now.”
“Henry.” Her wide-eyed gaze turned toward me and her body stilled. “Henry, is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me.” My tears threatened to return and I fought to keep them at bay. She was awake! And coherent. Truly, I’d worked a miracle.
“Where…what place is…?”
Before I could answer, her wild terror returned and she lashed out with her arms.
“No! It’s coming! In the dark, there’s something in the dark…after me….”
Flora’s voice trailed away, only to be replaced by a long, low moan. Despite the impropriety of it, I gathered her in my arms and pulled her to my chest, held her tight.
“There’s nothing can hurt you now, my love. You’re safe with me. I swear. The monsters are all gone.”
“Monsters, yes. There were monsters.” Her lips moved against my shoulder. “I can’t remember them, but I know they were there. Coming for me in the night. Oh!”
Her words changed to sobs and her tears dampened my neck. Her fingers clutched at my back, nails digging into my skin through the thin cloth of my shirt.
“Hush, hush,” I said, keeping my voice soft. I wanted to shout with joy but now was the time to soothe her, ease her fears. Our celebration could come later.
My gentle ministrations worked. Gradually her grip on me relaxed and her sobbing faded to a whimper. When even that disappeared, I reluctantly laid her back on the pillows. This time when she looked at me the fear had left her eyes, replaced by sleepy confusion.
“Henry? You’ve come to visit. So nice. But I’m so tired. I think perhaps….”
Her eyes closed and she slipped away once more.
I returned to my chair, my own worries put to rest by the moment of clarity she’d shown. Likely as not there’d be more episodes of alarm and bewilderment in the days to come, but I was ready to help her through them.
For the first time since my banishment from medical college, I found myself looking forward to the rest of my life.
My Flora had come back from the other side with her mind and soul intact.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I was in the caverns again. An army of the dead pursued me, their bodies consumed with rot, bestial tentacles whipping to and fro, eager to rend my flesh. I staggered on exhausted legs, knowing that to pause or stumble meant certain death.
But my strength had neared its end and I saw no signs of escape ahead. Only one chance remained.
The river.
If I could somehow make it to the other side, I’d be safe. I veered to the side and reached the edge of the cliff. Impenetrable darkness hid the water and shoreline. If my leap didn’t carry me far enough, or if the waters were too shallow, I’d end my life broken and bleeding. Food for the animals – or worse.
The stench of corruption grew strong. No time to think about it. I jumped, putting every last bit of strength into my attempt.
For a moment my body weighed nothing and a queer feeling passed over me, a sense of time moving too slow and too fast all at once. I saw the river rising up toward me while somehow viewing my own body descending, as if I possessed two pairs of eyes.
Then the river struck me with a cold slap and stole the air from my lungs. I sank like a stone, down, down, the bottom seemingly forever out of reach.
Two enormous eyes appeared in the blackness, sickly yellow orbs with black holes in their centers, holes that contained millions of twinkling stars.
“Welcome, my son,” rumbled a deep, sonorous voice in my head.
I came awake with a cry. Arrows of pain shot through my back as I sat up, letting me know I’d spent several hours asleep in the
chair.
My heart beat too fast and I placed a hand on my chest, willing it to slow. Cold sweat covered my brow and my breath came in harsh gasps.
That damned cavern, still haunting me. Would I never be free of it? And that voice at the end, not my father’s, yet somehow familiar. Although all I wanted to do was rid my mind of those evil tones, I tried to remember where I’d heard it. Perhaps then I could rid myself of—
“Henry?”
Flora! All other considerations fled my mind as I turned my attention toward her.
“Right here,” I said, taking her hand. Her eyes had regained their color, that sharp blue that seemed to mirror her inner fire.
“I’ve been ill, haven’t I?” She frowned as she spoke.
“Yes, but you’re doing much better now. What do you remember?”
The furrows in her brow grew deeper. “Scott. His funeral. I didn’t feel well, and I blamed it on my nerves. But after…after the fire, I felt worse. And one morning, Ben and I, we were going somewhere and I felt faint….” She shook her head. “The rest is all just cotton fuzz. Bits and pieces and…oh!”
Her other hand went to her mouth and her eyes grew wide. She was still so pale. I could see the blue lines of her veins through the thin skin on her neck and the backs of her hands.
“What is it?” I rubbed her cold palm, forgetting all about decorum in our shared distress.
“I remember that I was angry with you. That I blamed you for Scott’s death. For those awful creatures that attacked us. But Ben kept telling me it wasn’t your fault.” She gripped my hand in hers. “I’m sorry, Henry. I should never have doubted you.”
“It’s all right.” I patted her arm. “And the creatures are gone. All of them. The police and I, we killed them and the awful thing that spawned them. Burned them and then buried them under tons of stone.”
I almost asked her if she remembered being in the caverns, but my throat closed around the words. Better she didn’t recover that memory, now or ever. And Ben…he’d defended me? Guilt rose up in my breast. Cad and womanizer he might be, but he’d remained a friend, despite what I’d thought. What I’d accused him of. I owed him an apology. Once Flora and I were safely out of town, I would send it to him.
“I had nightmares about them,” Flora said, and it seemed the dark hollows beneath her eyes grew darker just from thinking about those dreams. “They came after me in my sleep, which I think I must have been doing a lot of. How long has it been, Henry? And how did I get here, in your house?”
“I’ll tell you, but first you need something to eat. And drink. You must regain your strength.”
“Oh, yes.” For the first time since her revival, Flora’s lips curved up in a weak semblance of her old smile. “I’m famished.”
I passed her the extra plate I’d fixed and she dug into the meat with an almost indecent vigor, hunger overruling good manners as she tore pieces of ham and sausage with her fingers and swallowed them after only a few perfunctory chews.
When she showed no signs of slowing, I left her alone just long enough to go downstairs and fetch more meat and cheese, along with a jug of watered-down wine to give her blood some energy. I’d half expected her to be asleep again when I returned, but I found her sitting up in bed, the covers drawn up to her neck for modesty’s sake.
She dove into the second plate with just as much enthusiasm, pausing just long enough to thank me around a mouth filled with food. While she ate, I gave her an edited version of what had happened since she’d taken ill, how she’d been moved from her own flat to Ben’s apartment so that he and Callie could care for her, and then to the hospital when her condition grew worse.
I made sure to let her know that I’d come by as often as I could, and that I’d returned to her as soon as I completed my hero’s work with the police.
“And how did I get from the hospital to here?”
While speaking, I’d prepared myself for that part of the tale, anticipating that a sharp mind such as Flora’s would hone in on that aspect.
“The doctors…. You were very sick, Flora. Very, very sick. Feverish. Unable to speak, or even open your eyes. And you must have lapsed into such a state of lethargy that…well, safe to say the physicians in Innsmouth are not the best. They mistook your somnolence for death and had you transported to the morgue.”
“What?” Flora’s mouth fell open and bits of sausage tumbled out. “Dead? I died?”
“No.” I hastened to ease her consternation. “They merely thought you dead. It was I who discovered the truth and stole you from that place, brought you here.”
Inspiration struck at that moment and I hurried to continue before she asked further questions. “And that is why you need to regain your strength. We have to leave Innsmouth, right away. For you see, the police will be after me for what I’ve done.”
“I don’t understand.” Her frown returned. “You saved my life. Why would that be wrong?”
I feigned a deep sigh and shook my head. “Because of who I am. The son of Silas Gilman, the man who courted evil and brought the dead back to life. Do you think anyone in this town will believe you were merely unconscious, that I simply revived you with smelling salts? No, after what my father did, after what Flannery and the others saw down in that cavern, they’ll assume I’ve followed my father’s wicked footsteps. I’ll be sentenced to death, and so will you.”
“Me?” Now alarm replaced confusion on Flora’s face. “Why me?”
“They’ll think you a monster, my dearest.” Bitterness and guilt lent an emotional hitch to my voice. I lied, yes, but in a way I also spoke the truth. Because of what I’d done, Flora was doomed if she remained in Innsmouth. And the dolts who ran the town wouldn’t have the intelligence to see the difference between my father’s actions and my own, between the monsters he’d created and the life I’d saved.
Flora started to speak and then paused. Her mouth closed and her lips pursed. I recognized that look. She was deeply unhappy and considering her next actions. Had we been in the tavern, like as not someone would be about to receive a severe tongue lashing, or perhaps even a knee in their privates. Flora Marsh took no guff from anyone.
To my credit, I didn’t step back, despite a strong desire to do so. Perhaps what I’d experienced below the streets of Innsmouth had made me braver, stronger.
Or simply killed my instinct for self-preservation.
But then the sharp angles of her face softened, the viperish gaze faded from her eyes, and she shocked me by nodding. “Yes, you’re right. This is a town filled with small-minded people. I will go anywhere you think is best for us.”
“Truly?” Astonishment and relief overtook me and I lost all sense of good judgment. Forgetting her weakened state and her state of undress, I took her in my arms and pulled her against my chest.
“Yes, my dearest, truly.” She returned the embrace and such was my emotional state that it took several moments for me to realize the sheets had fallen away between us and only two thin layers of cotton separated her skin from mine. The softness of her womanly attributes brought sudden heat to my face, while her words – had she really said them? My dearest? – sent shivers of pleasure through my belly.
My mind – the rational part, the part trained by society to follow the rules and behave as a polite man at all times – shouted at me to step away, to halt my licentious behavior before it advanced from impolite to offensively improper. Flora was neither wife nor fiancée; nor was she strumpet or casual liaison.
Something had changed, though, and my rational mind no longer held sway.
Instead of submitting to respectability, I leaned down and pressed my lips against hers.
And she returned the kiss.
There was no hesitation on Flora’s part. She tossed decorum to the wind as swiftly as I. My heart leaped as her cold flesh drew warmth from mine and her hands gripped m
y shoulders with surprising strength, given her condition. The last of my concerns about our reputations melted away and as if in a dream I found myself slipping the nightshirt off her shoulders and running trembling hands across her exposed body.
Each touch stoked the flames of my ardor further and Flora responded in kind, undoing the buttons of my clothes until nothing stood between us except the hairs of my chest. I fell upon her like a ravenous beast and when she spread her legs for me I quickly found my way into that most treasured of caves.
The ease with which I slipped into her informed me that my dear Flora was no stranger to the pleasures of the flesh, a fact that gave me momentary pause – who had she been with? Had Ben Olmstead beaten me to the prize? – but then I forgot all concerns as we consummated our undeniable lust. Flora cried out and urged me on, and I’m not ashamed to admit that her coarse language played no small part in bringing me to my own summit of pleasure.
It was over all too soon. Our intense exertions left me panting and damp with sweat, and I drew the sheets back over us before her chill spread to me.
As we lay there, her head resting upon my shoulder, my hand across her womanly pillows – just the feel of them had me thinking about pleasuring ourselves again – sudden insecurity caused me to question her earlier statement.
“You called me your dearest,” I said, brushing strands of her hair from my cheek. “Did you mean that?”
“I did,” she stated. “It’s always been you, Henry Gilman. I knew that one day we’d be together.”
“But you never said anything.” I thought back to how she’d always acted with us. Flirtatious to be sure, but that was her nature. Or so I’d thought.
“And you never asked me out, now did you?” She favored me with a soft laugh.
“If I had, would you have said yes?” I was already cursing myself for letting opportunity pass. Had we been together before, how different would things be now? Certainly I might not have been in the alley that night to cross paths with my cursed father. Scott would be alive, Flora uninjured…but then, with my father’s plan undetected, we might all be dead, victims of his insanity.
