by Ciar Cullen
She tilted her head and examined him for a moment. George, annoyed at her scrutiny, forcibly quashed a slight instinct to remove her from the equation. Bess was on their side and could be trusted. Lillian had promised.
“I asked Lillian a question,” Bess announced, “and, as her left brow arched, I know her answer was a lie. I would have the truth from you.”
“Her left brow arches when she lies? That is a handy piece of information.” George smiled to clear the air between them. “You are my now my best friend for life.”
Bess snorted again. “Oh, honestly. Buy me a ruby ring like the one Lil wears and I’ll be satisfied. My question, sir, is this. If a person is turned into a creature such as yourself, what happens to them exactly?”
“This isn’t the time—”
“As you do need me to carry out this plan, I would say it’s the perfect time, as I am asking the question.”
“What exactly would you like to hear about, Miss Wheeler?” George asked with some asperity. “The blood or the rebirth? The soul, the hunger, the strength…or perhaps how to kill us?”
She flinched a bit at his words. “All of those are of interest, but for now can you tell me if a person carries their infirmities into their new life?”
Oh, no wonder Lillian had told a lie. George grimaced. “I am immune to illnesses, and injuries typically heal quite quickly.”
Bess glared at him. “You to know to what I am referring, Mr. Orleans. I am lame, and I would have the truth. If I were to become a creature, would I remain disfigured?”
“Dear Bess, is it so horrible? You are really a very pretty, likeable woman. I can assure you that you are much happier as you are than after accepting such a bargain.”
“How can you know about my happiness?” Bess snapped. “Give me an answer, won’t you?”
“I’m afraid I cannot. Not a certain one. While you would cease to age, at least in appearance, there is no guarantee that physical infirmities such as yours would be repaired. I have seen it happen, but I have also seen it not work. I believe it depends on the bloodline of your maker. Others say a positive result is merely chance.”
“I see.” Lillian’s friend looked down at her misshapen shoe and toed the soil as if she might unearth an answer there, but after a moment she breathed in new air and stood erect, looped her arm through his, and announced that she was ready to do battle. “Let’s find Jane.”
“Yes, let’s find Jane,” George agreed. “We can talk more later if you like.”
Bess nodded. After about four steps, however, she added, “Truth be told, I think you are a fine match for Lillian. Please do mind what I said about making things right with her, however. She could use a bit of normalcy in her life, if that is remotely possible.”
If only it were.
They entered Spring Grove and were politely ushered by a receptionist to the central office. The rail-thin, middle-aged director, Dr. Arnold Epstein, had deep grey circles under his eyes and a pallor George had come to recognize signaled poor health, especially of the heart. But the man was generous and mannerly, and he bid the “newlyweds” sit and be comfortable.
“How can I help you, Mrs. and Mr. Johnson?”
“It is a delicate topic, Doctor. How long have you been at Spring Grove, if I might ask?”
“Oh, I may be trusted, sir. The identities and circumstances of all of our patients are treated with the utmost discretion. But I have been here for only three weeks.”
“Three weeks! Oh, then perhaps you will not be able to help us. It concerns a former patient. What happened to the previous director, a Doctor…?”
“Schneider? Ah, that is a very horrible story. You did not read of his…death in the paper? Ah, well, we are doing our best to carry on the high standards he established. In fact, security is much tighter, I assure you.”
A loud moan sounded from the hallway, startling them and belying the doctor’s proud assurance. George spoke to spare Epstein more embarrassment, as a scuffle outside the door seemed to be taking place.
“Indeed? My wife Clara had a dear sister who was hospitalized twice here. Once not so long ago, isn’t that right, Clara?”
“Yes, within two months.” Bess pulled a kerchief from her bag and sniveled into it, obviously in deep distress. “She succumbed to death by her own hand only two weeks ago.”
Epstein looked aghast and genuinely moved. “Oh, how terrible. Perhaps she should not have been released? Of course she should not have!”
“She actually escaped. It seems she must have had help, but we never learned from whom. I don’t suppose anyone on your staff currently?”
She’d managed just a hint of accusation, enough to make the doctor prickle a bit. Good show, Bess.
“Absolutely not! Our staff is now top-notch! But I am very sorry for your loss.”
Bess sniffed into her kerchief and nodded. “You see, this was not the first time she was here, as we said. I am afraid that I know the road to Catonsville all too well.”
“It was the first time, Clara, wasn’t it?” George prompted. “When it happened? How old was she then?”
“Yes, I was only fourteen, but I remember it clearly. My governess tried to keep the truth from me, but I knew. My sister had a child, Doctor. While at Spring Grove. She was only sixteen, so you can understand…” She turned to George and wept so well that he wondered if she were actually grieving.
“There, there, dear,” he said to her. “Doctor Epstein, we have not been able to locate Clara’s sister’s child. We were told she was taken to the Hebrew Orphan Asylum, but they have no knowledge of such a child. We were hoping…well, Clara and I would dearly love to bring her into the family, give her the love and life in society she so deserves. It would complete our lives and be such a tribute to Clara’s sister’s memory.”
“Indeed, I understand,” said the doctor. “Though I cannot guarantee that I will have the information you seek. Some families do not allow us to keep such records, as you might imagine.”
“Of course.”
Epstein stood and walked to a large credenza full of folders and notebooks. “I will need the name of your sister, Mrs. Johnson, and the approximate year.”
“Holmes. The name is Holmes, and it would have been in the fall of 1881.”
Epstein flipped through his leather-bound files, and George winked at Bess. The doctor finally pulled down a book and ran his finger along the entries. “Holmes, you said? Lillian Holmes?”
“Yes!”
He read silently for a bit and finally peered over his spectacles. “I wish she had been my patient. This strikes me as a very common case for a female of that age and in her circumstances. But let us skip those details and find what you are—”
“No! Please, I would like very much to know what happened,” Bess said. “We owe her that much, don’t you think?”
“Keep in mind that treatment has evolved a great deal in the last seven years.”
“Of course,” George agreed. But, God, what torture had his Lil gone through?
“Female, heavy with child. Age sixteen. Depressive, suicidal, delusional. References to an enemy. Poorly nourished. Given medications… Ah, they did no shock therapy, as she was with child. That is good news. Restraints were necessary. And…yes, it records the birth of a healthy child.”
“Does it say where the child was taken?”
“Released into the care of Doctor Schneider under orders from your sister’s solicitor, Francis Pemberton. To be taken to the Hebrew Orphan Asylum. Just as you were told.”
George’s heart sank. Here was nothing they didn’t already know. But his beloved had been restrained and drugged while pregnant? He wanted to leap across the room and tear out Epstein’s heart for being one of the misguided ghouls who tortured those who couldn’t defend themselves. He hadn’t expected much, but Lillian had thought this worth a try. If only he could give her something, anything…
“No one else is mentioned? No other family members or our pa
rents?” Bess asked.
“I’m afraid not, but that is not unusual. Quite often families leave these matters to their physicians.”
Bess stood and wiped at her tears, which seemed quite real to George now. “Thank you for your help, Dr. Epstein. I would have dearly loved to have found Jane.”
“Jane?”
“Oh, the name we thought to give the little girl should we find her.”
“I think you are confused, Mrs. Johnson. Jane wouldn’t suit for a boy child.” The doctor smiled ruefully, obviously sincere in his desire to help.
“Are you quite sure? A boy?” George grabbed Bess’s arm. Could Lil have been wrong about such a basic fact?
“The record seems quite clear. Male, six and a half pounds, healthy.”
“Thank you, then, we’ll be off.” George hurried Bess toward the door. In a moment of gratitude he turned back and stared at the confused director, saying, “Dr. Epstein, might I recommend that you let one of your colleagues listen to your heart—and suggest that you rest a bit more?”
“What on earth…?”
George didn’t hear any more. He pulled Bess quickly outside and put her into their carriage.
“A boy!” Lillian’s friend squealed. “I don’t know what to think! Is that good news or bad?”
“I do not know,” George said. “But Lil told me that the caretaker at the orphanage said they had no girl child of that age, so I know our next stop. Are you game, Bess?”
“I am, George!”
His heart was pounding. What would Lillian say if it was true, if her boy was at the orphanage and Madam Lucifer was toying with them? He wanted it to be so, wanted it desperately for her sake, wanted above all things for her to have this one happiness. And there was only one way to find out.
The carriage ride back to the city center seemed to take forever. Across from George, Bess wiggled her foot anxiously. “Do we keep the same charade?” she asked. “Or do we approach more directly?”
“I think the same. But follow my lead, will you, Miss Watson?”
“What else.”
The orphanage was only slightly less foreboding than the asylum, an ornate grey monstrosity that more resembled a prison. While the generous souls who had financed a home for unfortunate children were to be commended, George was certain that life in the building was akin to prison. How many Lillians wondered where their children were? How many had abandoned them on purpose? How many parents had died and left a child behind? But for Lillian’s money, she might have grown into young adulthood in this very place.
Put this melancholy aside and concentrate on finding the boy, George reminded himself.
Bess straightened her dress and hat as they took the short staircase to the front door. It was locked, so George knocked.
“Unusual,” he said. “It is not even twilight.”
“I imagine they must guard the children from the outside,” suggested Bess, “as well as keep them in.”
“True.” He knocked again, but still no one answered.
Bess found a bell and rang it several times. She peered through a side window and said, “I believe someone is coming.”
A rough-looking man opened the door a foot and peered out. “Didn’t have to knock to wake the dead.”
“It seems we did,” George retorted. He had expected a kindly old lady, not a man who looked as if he’d just come up from the docks. He carried the unmistakable odor of liquor on his breath, too. “We have business with the director of the orphanage.”
“Do you now? If you’re looking to donate or adopt one of these ruffians, she’ll be happy to see you. If it’s anything else, good luck to you.”
George bit back several curses and wanted to bash past the man. The sun was losing warmth, he had been in the light too long and was losing strength and patience, and soon Marie would be free to move about the city. “Happily, it is one of the former matters.”
“And, we are in a great hurry,” said Bess.
“All right, all right. I’ll tell her. No guarantees she can see you today… Depends on her mood, the new director.”
Bess whispered behind George, “Have all the establishments hired new directors?”
They followed the orphanage employee down a dimly lit hallway to a door that was open wide. Without introducing them or going inside, the man pointed and strode up a staircase, leaving them alone. The office beyond seemed large enough to double as a ballroom, but in a corner a plump matron in a garish gold and scarlet striped dress rested in an oversized chair. It made her look like a grotesque doll abandoned in the corner of an empty doll house.
“I don’t like this, George,” Bess whispered.
George took in a deep breath, and the particular smell of old blood in the air and a vibration of power filled him with foreboding. “No, I would think not.”
The woman stood at the sight of George, or perhaps the smell of him, and dropped the papers she’d been reading.
“Stay here, Bess. Better yet, why don’t you go outside?”
“I don’t think—”
“Go outside. Now.”
He heard Bess leave but kept his gaze attached to his unfamiliar foe. He crossed the room in several strides and faced her square on. She feared him, and she should. They both knew instantly that he was older and much stronger.
“I’m surprised Madam left such a youngster to guard this place of castaways.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about, sir. I am Miss Defarge, the director of the orphanage.”
“Defarge?” He laughed and heard the woman’s pulse quicken. “That was the first name that came to mind? My, you must be more prepared in the future. If you have a future.”
She lifted her chin and stared at him defiantly. “What do you want here?”
“I know why the wolf guards the henhouse. Now I would like to know what Marie has done or plans to do to these children, although I have my suspicions. And I would have the whereabouts of one boy in particular.”
“I am not Marie’s servant,” the woman said, forgoing at least that much pretense. “Of course I know of her. We all do. I am here for my own purposes.”
“You imprison children so Marie can feast on them at will? I have heard many things in my day, madam, but that is one of the most repulsive.”
He took another step but she didn’t back up. She tried to appear defiant, but her chin quivered in fear. “It is not against the commandments.”
“The boy. Don’t make me ask again.”
Her eyes now red-rimmed and dark, her skin pale and veined, she prepared for battle. “Fool. I am not alone here. You cannot defeat us.”
“You are alone. My senses are not impaired in any way. You are one of many pawns that Marie cares not a whit for, and unless you tell me where the boy is you will soon be vanquished. You have a choice. Give me what I want, and I will shelter you.”
A flash of anguish in her eyes made George realize how welcome his offered sounded. But, “You offer nothing. Your shelter is a paper house in a hurricane, George Orleans. We will take you, and your brother, and everyone you hold dear. We will take this city for our own, and then we will take this continent. The Houses will fall, all of them.”
“When did Marie give that speech? You are a newborn, so you can be forgiven for believing her lies.” In two strides he was on her, hand around her neck and teeth ready to tear free the truth. Her chair fell, and he pushed her against the wall. “You will not live another minute unless you turn over the boy.”
Her tears ran in red rivulets down her cheeks, and she shook, feeling his power and wrath. “She will kill me.”
“I will kill you first.”
“I don’t know where he is. They took him. I swear, George, it is the truth.”
He saw it was. She was limp in his hands now, had given up everything. “Who took him?”
“Two men. That is all I know!”
“Why? Because they know the child means something to me? To my beloved?”
/>
She looked puzzled. “What? No. It is not your child. Jacques is part of the…”
“The what?”
“The experiment of the men. One was a doctor. Jacques has been gone a few months. I cannot tell you more. I truly know nothing else. He was raised here but never allowed to be present on adoption days.”
“Schneider. Was that the name of the doctor?”
“I don’t know!”
“Was there a lawyer, a Pemberton?”
A flash of recognition crossed the woman’s face. She wiped the blood from her cheeks, and George loosened his grip.
“Perhaps—I cannot be sure. I wasn’t privy to the conversations. I simply watched the boy.”
Oh, Lil, she does have your child. “Did they say anything that would indicate where they were taking him?”
“No! As I said…” The woman paused.
“What?”
“Someone mentioned a castle once. I know of no castle.” She wept again and covered her face. “I swear, that is all I know. She just left me here to keep prying mortals away. The children are mostly gone; we’ve taken no one new in ages. Take me now and be done with it, before she does.”
George sighed and clenched his fist. “Is the boy still mortal?”
“He was when he left here.”
A wave of relief calmed his tension, and he released Marie’s minion. “Kill yourself or let her do it.”
She leapt at him as he turned, clawing his neck and scalp, trying to force him to end it. He shrugged her off. Killing this pitiful creature, as Bess would call her, would be kind, but he didn’t feel kind. The only revenge that would satisfy him would be to destroy the destroyer.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
An unusual love.
Sullivan sat while Phoebe tied his cravat. He knew how to do it, but she simply loved to fuss over him. He would deny her nothing. Except the truth.
“When can we go home, love? I’m tired of these hitey-titey vampires. Shoulda never come here. I can feel your anger at them brothers coming outta your pores. Let’s quit this town, Chauncey.”
She sat in his lap and pressed a pleading kiss on his lips. He shouldn’t have brought her. Another selfish move, another sin added to an endless list.
