Camille

by Tess Oliver

  ****

  Three full days had passed with no sign of Strider. My heart ached for his smile. A soot filled fog had choked the entire city. The dampness seemed to penetrate the walls of the townhouse, and no amount of coal in the hearth could warm me. My mind blotted out the terrible possibilities of what may have happened when Strider left here.

  Dr. Bennett still slept. His cheer from the possibility of success in the lab was obliterated by the disappearance of his specimen and the ever present tension between us. Only the cat took joy in the new circumstances.

  Dutch circled my legs purring loudly. I placed a saucer of cream on the floor of the kitchen and squatted down. The cat’s bald tail stood straight as an arrow as he lapped it up. I contemplated putting the animal in a cage and heading towards Strider’s neighborhood, but I feared what I might find.

  Dr. Bennett’s footsteps sounded on the kitchen stairs, and I rose up from my crouch. I swayed slightly as the blood returned to my head. Though morning had broken, the fog did not allow any sunlight, and I’d lit several candles near the stove. There was pure sadness in Dr. Bennett’s expression as he placed the box of French chocolates on the table.

  “The day you went to Regent’s Park, I went to see your sister.”

  “You mean your daughter.”

  “No, Camille, I went to see your sister! Your sister, Emily.” His voice echoed off the solid walls.

  Dutch finished his cream and returned to my legs. I lifted the cat into my arms. “How was she?’

  He smoothed his hair back with his hand. When had it turned so gray, I wondered? “I don’t know. She refused to see me.” He shot me a pleading look. It was a look of desperation that sent a stab of remorse through me. The truth was, I missed my sister, and at times like this when my life seemed profoundly dark, there was no one I needed more.

  I opened the box of chocolates and removed two. “I’ll go.” I headed toward the stairs then turned back to him. “But I do not go for you. I’m going for myself.” I still could not stop myself from spouting hurtful words at the man. It was not in my nature to stay angry for long, but the feelings of betrayal were still fresh.

  Dr. Bennett nodded and walked with heavy steps to his favorite stool and sat down.

  The door to the lab was ajar. I stepped inside. Only the faintest light came through the window. Father’s journal sat open on the cot, but I didn’t go near it. I’d seen enough of the book. A slide was still mounted on the microscope, but there was not enough light to see through it. Here we finally came upon a possible cure, something that could save Strider’s life, and he was gone.

  The cot where Strider had slept just days before still had the imprint of his long body. I walked over to it and sat down. The adjacent table held several thin vials of blood, Strider’s blood. Where was he right at this moment, I wondered. Had he found Smithy? What if he had killed him? What if he’d been arrested? Wouldn’t the guards at Newgate be shocked in a few weeks time when they discovered what they’d caught? I stood and headed out of the room. If Strider did not return soon, I would go out and find him.

  There was no parcel of paper for Emily, no interesting books, no letter, only a chocolate to get me to her door. My trousers and topper fit my mood and the grim weather.

  Dr. Bennett met me at the door with a bright red and white scarf. “This is for visibility in that pea soup out there,” he said and draped it around my shoulders. I held my arms straight down to my side and clenched my hands in fists to fight the overwhelming urge I had to hug him. The strain between us was unbearable even though it came mostly from my end. But I was not ready to forgive yet.

  The walk seemed especially long and especially miserable in the foul weather. Although I could not see ten meters in any directions, I kept out a constant eye for Strider.

  My sister’s pale blonde hair flowed out over the dark blue shawl covering her frail body. She sat on a bench in the hallway reading a book, but looked up the instant I stepped into the hallway. The twin connection was still strong.

  “I knew you would come today,” she said. She lifted a tiny paper fairy out from under the shawl. It had sheer blue wings and long dark hair with a white streak. “I’m sure you can guess what I’ve named her.”

  I took the fairy from her fingers and watched the sculpture twirl in the air. “Can you make me some wings like these? I would like to fly away and find some mystical forest to live in.”

  “But your heart would be here. With that boy.” She was only a half sister, yet she knew my every thought. How could we be anything but whole together?

  “Aye. That boy.” I sighed and searched for Emily’s other hand beneath her shawl. It was cold even underneath the knitted wool. “He’s gone, Em. I don’t know what will happen to him. To us.”

  She let go of my hand and brought me beneath her shawl. “Love can be a wretched thing, little sister.”

  “I had no idea I could feel this way about someone. Everything about him, those thin lines around his mouth, the way he scrubs his face with his hands when he’s frustrated,” I laughed, “the way he wears that smelly old coat. Just saying his name makes me dizzy.” I stood and walked to the window. The hospital grounds were barely visible. “Nothing can happen to him. Even if he leaves me forever and goes back to his old life for good, I have to know that he’s alive and well.”

  “Then find him, Cami.”

  I plopped back down next to her. “Is life supposed to be this difficult, or did we just happen to fall into a particularly rotten one?’

  Emily smiled. “Rotten. I could not have said it better myself.”

  I handed her the second chocolate. “Chocolate does make it more bearable though,” she said and quickly removed the wrapper.

  “Emily, why did you not tell me about John?”

  “You are my sister, my twin sister, and I didn’t want you to think differently of me.”

  Strider had been right. “Tis John I cannot seem to forgive,” I said.

  “He was a man in love. People do and say anything when they’re in love. Surely, you have discovered that yourself.”

  “But he was Father’s best friend.”

  “I’m not saying what he did was right, but try to think of it from the point of view of someone completely and hopelessly in love.”

  “Completely and hopelessly. I could not have said it better myself,” I said with a sigh.

  “And what has become of your friendship here at the hospital?”

  “Like the moon, it waxes and wanes,” she said. “Let’s take a turn around the hall. I’m feeling quite energetic today, and the weather does not permit for a stroll around the yards.

  “You should get outside more, Emily. You are dreadfully pale.”

  “Perhaps I should pinch my cheeks like mother used to do.” She stopped to nod hello to several other patients who lingered in the hallway chatting. “You know, Father never treated me differently. After he found out, he could have turned me out in the street or sent me to John’s. But he always treated me like his own.”

  “He was a good father,” I said. We reached the end of the passage and turned to make the return trip to Emily’s room. I laughed. “This is certainly invigorating, Em. Nothing like that simple walk I must endure to visit you.”

  She squeezed my arm. “I’m glad I could encourage you to get some much needed exercise. It’s very good for the mind. Or so they say.”

  “Actually, I believe it is. And when I finally drag you from this morgue, you’re going to take long daily strolls that involve walking on cobblestone not rose patterned rugs.” The corridor where we walked was dotted with trailing pots of heart shaped leaves and ivory urns filled with ferns. It was astonishingly quiet and comforting, and for a moment, I could see why Emily preferred this place to the outside world.

  “Someday, Camille. Someday soon. But for the time being, you have enough to worry about. Was there anything significant in the journal?”

  “Do you mean besides Father’s conf
ession that he purposely contaminated his own blood?”

  “He was a man of extraordinary curiosity. I mean one can hardly blame him.”

  “You’re very forgiving. He longed to satisfy his own curiosity more than he longed to raise his daughters.”

  “True. I guess since I’ve known longer, I’ve had more time to forgive him. It will come for you too, Cami. With time.”

  And elderly woman shuffled toward us barely moving her feet with each step as if they’d been tied together. The woman’s shoulders sloped down from a large hump on her back, and her thin hair barely covered her scalp. “Lovely day for a stroll, is it not, Mary?”

  The woman did not return the greeting but continued past at a snail’s pace.

  I leaned closer to my sister. “Why does she walk like that?” I whispered.

  “Mary has been here for decades. She walked these halls with chains round her ankles for years. She still thinks she’s chained.”

  I glanced back at the woman who had hardly covered any ground since she’d passed us.

  Emily gave my arm a tug, and I faced forward again. “Now back to my original question. Are there some theories inside that will help?”

  “John is still reading through it. Right now he is trying something I came up with after reading about immunity to Smallpox.” I lowered my voice, but it was not really a place where people bothered to listen in on conversations. “We stole a blood sample from a corpse, our last victim.”

  “It isn’t as if he would miss it. And the results?”

  “It seems to be working. Nathaniel’s blood cells have stopped mutating and are returning to normal.”

  Emily made a sudden turn toward a tall window, and we stopped to gaze outside. The fog had not lifted, and the only thing visible was the faint outline of the large tree in the center of the yard. “You need to find Nathaniel.”

  “He could be anywhere. Even in jail, I suppose, or worse.”

  Emily stopped and turned to me. She kissed me on the forehead, and I realized we hadn’t missed one heartbeat of sisterhood even with the news that we had different fathers. “Start back at the beginning and follow your heart, Camille. You’ll find him.”

  Chapter 19

  “Is it still working, then?” I asked from the doorway of the lab.

  Dr. Bennett’s face popped up from the microscope. “Camille, I didn’t hear you come in.” He glanced at the scope and back at me. “Yes, everything appears to be working. Still, I’m worried about the trace amounts of silver from the man’s blood. Even small amounts could eventually prove lethal. But time will tell.” He reached for another slide and slid it under the lens. “How’s your sister?” He asked trying to sound nonchalant and doing a miserable job of it.

  “She’s very well, actually. We strolled through the hallway, and she was in good spirits.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  I stepped into the room. “We need to remove her from that place. She needs to come home.”

  His blue eyes lifted. They were Emily’s eyes except cloudier from age and surrounded by tiny wrinkles. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  I moved to the microscope and bent over the eyepiece. Blood cells, his blood cells, looking as they should, shifted under the lens. I straightened. “But for now, I need to find Nathaniel. Tomorrow morning, I’ll start off to Buck’s Row.”

  Dr. Bennett’s face whitened. “I’ll come with you.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’ll dress like a boy. I think I should talk to him alone.”

  He stood and walked to the cot. The day’s paper was spread out on it. He wrung his hands together before reaching for a paper. The expression on his face when he faced me again was grim. “There was an incident on the Strand, Camille.” He handed the paper to me. “Several boys who’ve aligned themselves with some lout called Smithy were attacked and beaten severely. One of the boys clings to life in a hospital ward.”

  I crumpled up the paper without reading it and threw it against the wall. “Pray, don’t tell me anymore.” Dr. Bennett placed a hand on my arm, but I yanked it away. “They deserved it.”

  “Camille, the boy is extremely dangerous. He took on four and left them in a crumpled heap. The police mentioned that the attacker had the strength of ten men, but the victims insisted they saw only one man.” He stepped in front of me as if he intended to keep me from going after Strider.

  I could not look at him and stared down at my feet instead. “Rage can make anyone dangerous.”

  He moved closer and his tone softened. “There is a difference between human rage and the rage of a beast.”

  My face shot up. “He’s not a beast! We’ve not even reached a full moon yet. And we’ll cure him before anything more happens. You’ll not stop me, John.”

  His shoulders relaxed. He nodded before stepping aside. “Then go to Buck’s Row, Cami, and find him. I know the boy cares for you a great deal and wouldn’t harm you while still in human form.” The wrinkles on his face seemed more pronounced as he looked at me. “There are only a few days left and reading about the incident by the river, I fear if we do not stop the transmutation now, we may never be able to stop him.”

  I was absurdly happy to hear him say that. It meant that one way or another, Strider would survive, and that was all I cared about, no matter what the cost.

  ****

  On the west side of town there was constant change. Behind a shop window, a plush cashmere muff for winter replaced an intricately painted fan for summer heat, the facade of a coffee house changed from rich red to glossy blue, and the fur trim and embroidered lace of cooler days stood in for the yellows and pinstripes of fair weather. But the lower East End never changed. Oil stained skirts and trousers that have seen more than one owner until so ragged they are close to being returned to the wool factories for shredding, the same dilapidated shop fronts with the paint nearly gone and the foundation rotted by rain, the same barefoot, bone thin children holding out a frozen palm waiting for a halfpenny to be added to it. Nothing changed except the weather on the East End. After walking through every alley and by every public house, disappointment set in. There was no sign of him. It was entirely possible that he was in hiding from retribution or from the police. Although they were unlikely to spend much time chasing down an attacker whose only victims were street thugs.

  Every corner began to look the same and fearing I might be lost forever in the maze of filth and despair, I headed toward the sound of carriage traffic hoping to end up on a main road. I pushed the sleeve of my coat higher and rubbed the crescent-shaped scar on my arm. It had never given me trouble before, but for the last several minutes, it had tingled oddly.

  A pair of worn shoes jutted out from behind a stack of empty barrels, and my heart raced as I drew closer. They were Strider’s shoes. Not surprisingly, a flurry of feminine giggles erupted from behind the barrels and I froze. Could I stand to see him with another girl? Would he pretend not to know me?

  Then I heard his voice, and my knees nearly collapsed beneath me. I pushed forward on shaky legs and peered around the wall of wooden containers. It was the other Strider, the lad I’d followed after the night in the cemetery. There was an empty bottle of gin between him and the girl at his side, a girl I’d never seen before. The red head , Lucy, knelt behind him with her arms around his neck. It felt as though someone had thrown a lead cannon ball hard at my stomach. I stepped into Strider’s line of vision, and he lifted eyes that were glazed with drunkenness. He stared at me as if I were a hallucination but said nothing.

  Both girls looked at me in my trousers and hat and threw back their heads with laughter. The girl I’d never seen jumped up and flicked off my hat. I didn’t move. “Ain’t you bonny in your trousers and coat.” She laughed again and sat back down next to Strider. He had not taken his eyes off me.

  Lucy swung around the back of him and landed in his lap. Strider dumped her onto the pavement. She shot up and lifted a hand to slap his face, but he caught her wrist. Her hand
dropped, and she scooted onto the step next to him. She lifted the bottle of gin to her mouth and threw back her head to get the last drops.

  “What are you doing ‘ere?” His voice sounded low and hoarse.

  “I got lost on my way to the palace.”

  The girl I’d never seen before wrapped her arms around his. “Strider, is this girl a witch? Only a witch would have a streak of white in her hair.”

  Strider pulled his arm from her grasp and scooted back to rest against the wall behind him. His lids drifted shut for a moment, then he opened his eyes again. “Aye, she might be a witch at that. She definitely knows how to cast a spell,” his gaze did not leave my face as he spoke.

  “It’s time to go, Nathaniel. Days are running short.”

  He smiled. “She’s a witch and a huntress. And I’m her prey.” The two girls looked completely befuddled by his comment. They both eyed me suspiciously. Lucy attempted to get to her feet. “I’ll get rid of ‘er for you,” she barked.

  He grabbed her arm and yanked her down next to him.

  “Go home, Camille. I’m where I belong.”

  “So you’re giving up now? You nearly killed those boys.”

  My statement sobered him some. He looked sideways at the girls. “You lasses go on ahead. I’ll meet you at Tom’s later.” They moved hesitantly. Lucy managed to clash shoulders with me nearly pitching me sideways before she walked away.

  “How’s Goose?” I asked rubbing my shoulder.

  Strider flicked the empty gin bottle onto its side with his thumb and forefinger before nudging it with the toe of his shoe. The bottle clamored down the pavement and cracked against the first building to land in its path. “Goose is dead. They said his brain swelled and pressed against his skull.”

  ‘I’m truly sorry, Nathaniel. The boys you beat—will Smithy come looking for you now?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t think they’ll have the nerve.” He stared down at his hands as he opened and closed his fists. Then he stared back up at me. “Your father was on to something. Invincibility feels good. I’m not so sure I want to give it up.” He stretched his arms up and laced his hands behind his head before leaning back. “Could come in handy ‘ere on the streets.”