He inclined his head to Lester and walked out the front door without taking his hat. Serenity couldn’t decide if she wanted to shout at Virgil, apologize to the Friends, or follow Jacob and apologize to him instead.
But she did none of those things. Keeping her head down, she took the tray and newly filled plate Elizabeth offered, and went out the back. The night was cool and refreshing, its soothing silence, broken only by crickets in the long grass, easing a little of her agitation.
Aunt Martha was alert when she entered the cottage, propped up on her pillows and smiling as Serenity approached the bed.
“Niece,” she said in her cracked voice. “I am glad to see thee again.”
“And I thee,” Serenity said, setting the plate down on the table beside the bed. “I have brought thy supper. I hope thee is hungry.”
“I do not eat much these days,” Martha said, “but I am a little hungry tonight.”
Serenity pulled a chair up to the bed, picked up the tray and carefully laid it across her aunt’s lap.
Martha refused to let Serenity help her eat, though her hands trembled as she lifted the fork to her lips. She permitted Serenity to cut the meat into smaller portions, but she ate less than half of the modest slice Elizabeth had provided for her, and almost none of the potato and squash.
“I thank thee,” she said, setting down her fork. “I think I am finished.”
Serenity took the tray away. She was more than a little worried about Aunt Martha’s color and the way she sank back into the pillows.
“Will thee rest now, Aunt?” Serenity asked. “Is there something else thee needs?”
Martha smiled, white around the lips. “I need only to sleep a little. We will visit again tomorrow morning, if that is agreeable to thee.”
“Of course.” Serenity removed one pillow from beneath her aunt’s head and helped her settle, drawing the sheets and blankets over her thin chest. She kissed Martha’s forehead.
“Rest well,” she said. “I will see thee tomorrow.”
But Martha was already asleep.
Serenity picked up the tray and crept to the door.
Virgil was waiting outside.
“Let me help thee,” he said, taking the tray from her hands.
Serenity glanced toward the main house. “Is the meal already finished?” she asked.
“I would speak with thee,” he said.
Which was no answer at all, and Serenity didn’t care. He was the last person she had any desire to speak with, but, judging by the look on his face, avoiding him would not be easy.
“I think it is better that we not speak now,” Serenity said coolly.
Virgil flushed. “Thee are angry with me. Perhaps thee has good reason, but—”
“Please give me the tray.”
Instead of doing so, Virgil walked back toward the main house and through the kitchen door. Before Serenity could escape, he was outside again.
She could see it wouldn’t do any good to put him off; she would let him say what he had to say, and then she could be done with him.
It soon became apparent that he wanted privacy for whatever he intended to say. He led Serenity away from the settlement, not into the fields surrounding it but toward the wagon road. Nothing moved on it now. It might as well have been the middle of the Llano Estacado, the barren “staked plain” that straddled the border between New Mexico and Texas.
When they were completely alone, Virgil stopped and turned toward Serenity with an expression of utmost gravity.
“I know thee would not have me speak of this again,” he said, “but I cannot remain silent.”
“If you intend to insult my friends—”
“It is Constantine who concerns me now,” he interrupted. “You said that he is employed to work at thy farm, but he does not behave like a hired man.”
“I am surprised at thee,” Serenity said, meeting Virgil’s challenging stare with one of her own. “Does thee not agree with the teachings that all men and women are equal in the sight of God?”
“He is arrogant,” Virgil said stiffly. “He is the one who believes himself better than the rest of us.”
“His ways are not yours. Thee cannot expect him to behave exactly as thee would wish.”
“Does thee approve of the way he spoke tonight?”
She began to lose her temper. “Did thee not provoke him?” She folded her arms across her chest. “Tell me, why does thee dislike him so much?”
“Anyone can see what kind of man he is. The way he holds himself, the quickness of his movements…” Virgil scowled. “The way he looks at thee…does thee not see that he lusts after thee?”
His frankness startled her. It was not generally the way of Friends to discuss such private matters with anyone, even close kin. And that Virgil could guess so much…
“He has never imposed upon me,” she said, which was as close to the truth as made no difference. “He has behaved at all times with propriety.”
“But that is not how he wishes to behave,” Virgil said, his voice growing heated. “Thee has lived on a farm with only women. What can thee know of such men?”
Serenity choked back a laugh. She had nothing to lose now by letting him know what Elizabeth had already guessed.
“Does thee think I am an innocent?” she asked, as she had once asked Jacob. “I saw this place burned to the ground by evil men. Does thee truly believe that I have no experience of the world?” She closed her eyes. “Perhaps I am not so unlike the man you seem to despise.”
“Thee is nothing like him. Thee is one of us, even if thee—”
“I have used weapons against men who would have hurt me and my friends,” she said. “I have defended what I hold dear, with no regret. What does thee think of me now?”
He turned away from her, taking several jerky steps back toward the cluster of buildings. He clasped his hands tightly behind his back, pressing so hard that his knuckles whitened with the strain.
“It is that man who has influenced thee,” he said.
“I have known him for only a few weeks. What I did, I did by my own choice.”
She thought that would be the end of it, that he would march back to the house and never speak to her again. But it was not to be so simple.
“Thee…” Virgil began. He stopped, shook his head and began again. “Thee is not beyond redemption. Thee can repent, renounce the life that has led three astray and become one of us again.”
Repentance. Renunciation. He had no idea what he was asking of her.
She bent her chin to her chest. “This is no longer my home,” she said. “I have made my decision. I will not be staying after my aunt…after she no longer needs me.”
“But this is thy home. Thy true home, where thee can find peace.”
“You do not seem much at peace, Virgil Thompson,” she snapped.
She regretted her words at once, but it was too late to call them back.
Virgil grew red in the face and pressed his lips together in a narrow white line.
“I have had concern for thee, Serenity Campbell,” he said, “because I see how deeply thee are in error, and how much danger thee faces in pursuing thy present course. Someone must stop thee from destroying thyself. Or does thee think Constantine can save thee?”
“I need no one to save me.”
“But thee will be going with him when thee leaves, will thee not?” He stepped toward her. “Will thee deny that there is more between thee and him than thee has admitted?”
Now she began to understand his anger. He was jealous. The idea was so startling that she could hardly keep from showing her amazement.
“We have been friends,” she said. “That is all.”
“It is a sin to lie.”
“It is the truth.”
“He is an evil man.”
“That is ridiculous. He is—”
“Why does thee defend him so staunchly if he means nothing to thee?”
“I have no need to
defend him to thee or anyone else.” She began to move past him, but Virgil stepped into her path.
“Heed my warning, Serenity Campbell,” he said hoarsely. “Thee must consider thy salvation and thy hope of eternal life. If thee will but surrender thyself to God, thee will regain everything thee has lost.”
Oh, no. Not everything. And she couldn’t surrender to anyone. Not now. Perhaps not ever.
But Virgil hadn’t finished. “Thee will find someone who loves thee and will stand by thy side in thy struggles,” he said, his eyes glowing with fervor. “Thee needs a husband to help thee find thy way.”
She met his gaze in disbelief. It was clear he meant himself, but that seemed absurd. Aside from their childhood acquaintance so long ago, they had known each other all of one day.
“Serenity—” He looked as if he were about to fling himself to his knees in front of her. “Does thee know…” He flushed. “Thee are beautiful.”
Serenity stared at him. Jacob had never called her beautiful. She had been glad, because she hadn’t wanted to look beautiful to anyone…least of all Virgil. Now she became aware for the first time that he was no neutered male who would never look upon a female with anything but the purest intentions. She had been so young when she’d been taken, so naive. She hadn’t had the chance to learn that Quaker men were men like any other.
And Virgil, for all his sober dress and gravity, would have been found attractive by many women. He was more than pleasant to look at, strong and straight in body.
She had no interest in him at all.
“I thank thee, Virgil,” she said coolly. “It is a great compliment thee bestows upon me. But I will never marry.”
“Thee doesn’t know what thee is saying.”
“But I do, I assure thee.”
“If thee does not love Constantine…”
Serenity’s mouth went dry. “I do not.”
“Then if thee still grieves for Levi Carter, I have no doubt that he would wish thee to be happy. He would not wish thee to be alone.”
“I am not alone. I have my friends—”
“Thee does not belong with them.”
“She belongs wherever she wants to be,” a deep and ominous voice said from behind her.
Jacob ambled onto the road from the stand of live oaks across the rolling meadow, loose-limbed and relaxed.
There was no hostility in his words, but Virgil went rigid at once, his shoulders drawn up and his fists clenched at his sides.
“This does not concern thee, Constantine,” he said.
Jacob ignored him. “Is he bothering you, Miss Campbell?”
It seemed the tension that had all but ruined everyone’s supper had followed Serenity as relentlessly as a bad omen. “No,” she said. “If you gentlemen have anything to say to one another, I suggest you say it and leave everyone else alone.”
As she strode away toward the dim, flickering candlelight shining through the windows of the houses and cottages, she heard Virgil begin to speak. His tone was strident, but she couldn’t make out the words.
It seemed incredible to her that they should quarrel over her, foolish and pointless. Virgil was jealous for no reason at all. And Jacob was very much mistaken in thinking she needed protection from Virgil. Unless he, too, was…
Jealous? Jacob? The very idea was ludicrous. Serenity stopped, laughed and shook her head. He’d never tried to hold her or put any kind of claim on her; if he had, she would never have let him come so close. Too close.
She sighed and continued to walk, her feet pinching in their too-snug shoes. Hadn’t she brooded over the very same thoughts before? Wasn’t her lack of control at the very root of every difficulty that had come up since she and Jacob had left New Mexico? Hadn’t she returned Jacob’s embraces and his kisses with reckless abandon?
Because she had desired him. In spite of everything, that part of her was far from dead. But that was all it was: a physical attraction.
“If thee does not love Constantine…” Virgil had used the word she had never so much as considered in connection with Jacob. Had she?
Of course not. Nor would Jacob. As little as she knew of his past, or what women he might have known and left behind, she couldn’t imagine that his interest in any female would extend beyond the physical realm.
She increased her pace, eager for the familiar company of her friends in the guest cottage set aside for them. Victoria, Caridad and Zora would surely have many questions, some of which she wouldn’t want to answer, but she would welcome even their interrogation rather than deal with Virgil or Jacob again tonight.
Serenity never knew what caught her attention, or why she froze like a doe scenting a panther. She turned her head toward the trees just in time to see a male figure darting among the oaks. He moved as if he didn’t wish to be seen, and something metal in his hand briefly glinted in the light from the houses. Suddenly she was plunged back into the past, to the last time when strangers had come in stealth and silence.
The world around her disappeared. She was seventeen again, but this time she knew they were coming. This time she was ready to fight.
Ready to kill.
She picked up her skirts and ran for the barn. The horses snorted in alarm as she plunged through the door and climbed to the hayloft where she knew she would find the weapons she needed.
In the grip of blind instinct, Serenity buckled on her gun belt and snatched up her rifle. She found the box of bullets and loaded both weapons, then rushed outside. She ran back the way she had come, turning toward the trees when she was well clear of the settlement.
If she had been thinking at all, she would have known that she was unlikely to find the intruder in the dark, moonlight or not. But as unlikely as it was, she saw him when she came within a dozen yards of the trees, crouched close to the ground and moving ever nearer to the houses.
A face turned toward her, blurred by shadow and distance. She had seen that face in hell, grinning like Satan himself, laughing at her pathetic attempts to protect herself. Jeering and taunting her, never letting her forget how her parents and Levi had been so mercilessly slaughtered. How she had been permitted to live for one reason only.
She lifted the rifle to her shoulder.
“Stop!” she shouted. “Stay where you are, or I’ll kill you!”
The man straightened and lifted his hands. “Serenity,” he said. “Go ba—”
She fired. She heard a grunt of pain, and the intruder dropped. Serenity’s heart slammed in her chest, and a wash of dizziness nearly swept her to her knees. She fought to keep her balance and staggered toward the outlaw, eager to see that vile, ugly face as his blood ebbed and he realized who had taken it from him.
That was when the other man appeared, a gun in his hand, and stood over her victim. He looked at Serenity, and she glimpsed the flash of white teeth.
“I owe you a debt, ma’am,” he said, touching the brim of his hat. “You saved me a heap of trouble.”
“Perry,” she whispered.
“Never thought you’d see me again, I reckon.” He glanced down at the man at his feet. “Neither did Constantine. He didn’t know me as well as he thought he did.”
She followed Perry’s gaze to the body. Horror, bitter as nightshade, robbed Serenity of her ability to speak.
She had shot Jacob.
“At least you didn’t kill him,” Perry said. “I plan to save that privilege for myself.”
“No,” Serenity whispered, finding her voice again. “It was a mistake.”
“You must be crazy to defend a freak of nature like him,” Perry said, contempt drenching every word. “What kind of female are you? Did you let this thing into your body?”
Serenity lifted the rifle again and aimed at Perry’s chest. “Put down your gun.”
“I don’t think so. I’ve got other business here once this animal’s dead. I think these people will see reason when I explain about the murderer sheltering with ’em.”
“My people
will never let you have Victoria,” she said. “And you won’t be killing anyone.”
“I wouldn’t like to hurt a woman, but if you don’t drop that rifle—”
The body at Perry’s feet erupted out of the grass, lunging for Perry’s legs in a blur of motion. But Jacob was weak, and Perry stumbled away in time to escape his clawing hands. Perry braced himself on the trunk of the nearest tree and took careful aim at Jacob’s head.
He never pulled the trigger. Serenity shot him, and he slumped against the tree. She dropped the rifle and fell to her knees.
“Serenity,” Jacob croaked.
Still alive. She began to crawl toward him, dragging her skirts behind her.
Jacob was on his side, his right shoulder and chest smeared with terrifying quantities of blood that obscured most of his shirt and the wound itself. The deadly wound she had given him.
He lifted his head as she reached him, his eyes mere slits and his face taut with pain. “Serenity,” he said. “I…need your help.”
She crouched before him, lifting her hands helplessly, trying to think of what to do. The bullet would have to come out, and they would need rags to stop the bleeding and bind the wound. But if she left him even long enough to find help…
“I’m dying,” he whispered. “Help me…undress.”
Serenity knew he must be mad with pain. She ignored him and began to tear at her petticoats, struggling to rip the heavy cotton.
A bloodied hand settled on her arm. “I can…heal myself,” he said. “I need…clothes off.”
All at once she understood him. He meant to Change, and somehow that was going to heal him. But removing his clothing would only increase his bleeding, possibly enough to kill him.
“Trust me,” Jacob said, his voice beginning to fade. He sank back, his breath rattling in his throat.
Serenity wasted no more time. She crawled closer and began to remove his boots, knowing she had to be fast as well as careful. Jacob groaned under his breath when she unbuttoned his shirt and tried to pull it over his shoulders. In the end she had to rip it to pieces with her bare hands, tearing her nails and hurting Jacob again. Grimly holding back her tears, she unbuttoned his trousers and tugged them off his legs.
The moment he was free of his clothes, Jacob shuddered and twisted as if he was caught in the grip of an agony Serenity couldn’t begin to comprehend. Blood gushed from his wound, staining the ground beneath him crimson and emblazoning his skin like war paint. He shouted, a sound more howl than anything human, and the lines of his body grew blurred like a smudged charcoal drawing. Serenity glimpsed dark fur fused with pale human flesh.
Code of the Wolf Page 22
