The Mirk and Midnight Hour

by Jane Nickerson

  They had done this to me.

  I gave a little hiccoughing half sob, threw the amulet over my head, not caring if it still burned, and dashed down the stairs. In the kitchen I hastily wrapped a bandage around my scorched fingers, snatched up a burlap sack, and stuffed in corn bread and ham. I stammered excuses to Sunny and Miss Elsa. They stared after me in amazement as I tore away, frantic and wild-eyed, down the river and through sticky, shifting, stirring greenness to the Lodge.

  He might have asked where I had been with his food for the past two weeks. He might have asked, “How could you have left me so long to the untender mercies of the VanZeldts?” He might have said, “You needn’t have bothered to return after what you said last time.” He could have said any number of well-deserved and terrible things, but he did not.

  Instead he swept his long, dark hair back from his face and gazed as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. Then he held out his arms. I cried into his chest and told him almost all that had happened. He drew in his breath with horror at our close escape. He held me and told me I was valiant and strong and clever to have handled such challenges as I had. His voice was rough with emotion when he called me his “sweet girl.”

  A burden lifted off my shoulders because he was all right and because he had not only forgiven me but understood exactly why I had done all that I had done. He assured me that, under the circumstances, I had been right not to call in the marshal with Dorian. He listened for a good long while. I did not tell him I had forgotten him. I couldn’t bear him to know this.

  After I had talked myself out, he kissed me—a gentle, tender embrace. It was nothing like our passionate kisses by the bonfire, but still it made me glow clear through, partly because it showed that all was mended between us.

  The two weeks had left him noticeably thinner. His eyes were shadowed and his cheeks hollow. His every movement was slower, as if each took an effort. I pushed the sack toward him. “Please eat now. I should have given you the food first thing.”

  After he ate, he demonstrated that he could walk without his sticks. He had to swing one leg out a bit, but not much.

  “This last week,” he said, “when I began to think you might not return, I figured I’d better speed up my departure. I’ve worked at the walking every day. Are you suitably impressed?”

  I nodded, but my mouth went dry. “This means you must leave soon.”

  “Are you so eager for me to run off?”

  “You know I’m not. It will break my heart. But it’s time. The sooner you’re away from the VanZeldts, the better. I’m grateful to the doctor for healing Seeley, and I really do like Amenze—the girl—but they scare me. That last time I was here, Amenze caught Seeley and me leaving the Lodge. She said she wouldn’t tell the doctor, but … Very soon I’ll bring Seeley so he can say goodbye, and I’ll have some of my brother’s clothes for you. That last time, we won’t come by river. We’ll bring Star and a map so you can ride to the nearest Federal camp.”

  “You’re right,” Thomas said soberly. “Even though I don’t want to leave, it’s best I go soon. They’ve caught me awake a few times lately and it seems as if their attitude has changed. They used to be completely detached, but now the girl looks at me with pity and the young man sneers. At least they don’t know I can walk, thank goodness, so my escape will be a surprise.”

  “They have powers we can’t comprehend,” I said, shivering. “You should have seen their place: there was a human skull on the floor of the shed.”

  “You don’t suppose they’re vampires, do you?” Thomas gave a mischievous smile.

  I couldn’t make light of such a thing. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they were. I’ve also wondered if they’re fairies—not tinkly, floaty ones but dark, deadly ones. For sure, though, they’re practitioners of some strange religion that worships a snake god all mixed together with hoodoo.”

  Thomas squeezed my hand. “Good old down-home hoodoo—wish I knew more about it. Skull aside, though, maybe there’s nothing so bad about what the VanZeldts believe. Maybe it’s just dissimilar from what our Western culture understands. Our scientific knowledge covers only a fraction of the forces at play in the universe. You know, a few hundred years ago the electric telegraph would have been considered witchcraft. Why can’t we take the good that comes from different sources and leave the bad? Why do we accept the miracles of our Christianity but deny other cultures’ beliefs?”

  I didn’t remind him of the evil of the VanZeldts’ magic where Jorgenson had been concerned. Instead I reached out and brushed the hair from his eyes as if I had all the right in the world to touch him whenever I wanted to. An amazing assumption. “Do you believe people can communicate with creatures in—in odd ways?”

  “I think I experienced it sometimes during those first weeks I lay here. Those animals that poked around inside.”

  “Well, I have a funny sort of talent. If people only knew, I expect they would be shocked. Maybe even scared.”

  “Really? What is it?”

  Within the triangle of his legs, I leaned back against his chest, encircled by his arms. “My gift involves bees.…”

  And so we spent an enjoyable hour informing each other of things we should have divulged before and never had.

  It was time to go, but I couldn’t bear it.

  “Thomas,” I said urgently.

  “Yes?”

  “Oh … nothing.”

  “Just ‘Thomas.’ ”

  “Yes.”

  He smiled, but in a wistful sort of way, and I knew he understood. He pulled the carnelian signet ring from his pinkie and slipped it onto my ring finger. “When I’m gone, this will reassure you that I’m coming back. It came to me from my grandfather and is my most precious possession.”

  I shook my head. “No. You don’t need to make promises like that. Neither of us knows what the next months will bring. You don’t—”

  He put his fingers lightly over my lips. “I am promising.”

  “May I go to the woods with you?” Seeley begged the next day as he watched me start out the door for my visit to the Lodge. “It’s been ages since I’ve been anywhere.”

  “No, Squid. Soon. Hopefully this Saturday. Right now you aren’t quite strong enough.”

  He frowned but didn’t protest, as he would have a few weeks ago. His terrible experiences had left him too solemn and pliable. I missed the old Seeley.

  Neither he nor Laney remembered Thomas. When I had returned the night before, I had tested them both, and they had acted only bewildered by my hints. Evidently my memory had returned because of the amulet, but the spell still held over the others. I couldn’t let Seeley touch the amber, lest he be burned. In a few days I would take him to the Lodge, and maybe the sight of Thomas would restore his memory—or else he could grow new ones.

  But not today. The fact was, I didn’t want Seeley along today. I selfishly yearned for one more visit with Thomas alone. It was so delightful to say what we wanted to say and kiss when we wanted to kiss without an audience. No wonder our society never allowed young ladies to go about unchaperoned—being isolated with the opposite sex was dangerously freeing.

  I wore a new dress I had brought down from the attic and stayed up late altering the night before. It was of apple-green muslin with thin brown satin ribbons lacing up the front of the bodice to a low, circular neckline. Because of the neckline, I carried the amulet in my pocket. This time I wouldn’t forget where I had put it. Throughout the trip to the Lodge, I moved carefully so as not to spoil my pretty dress.

  Thomas lay with his head resting on his hands and his long limbs extended. When I entered, he smiled a slow, lazy smile, sat up partially, and stretched his arms out to me in a graceful, fluid motion. I squatted down beside him and started to take his hand. Instead he clenched my wrist and pulled me down to lie pressed full length against him.

  I gave a little laugh. “You’re eager.”

  He answered with a low wordless murmur. He drew my face to his and
kissed me, deep and passionate. I responded, with every cell of my body tingling and reaching for him. Our legs twisted around each other, tangled in my skirt. His hands passed over me, stroking. His tongue flicked out over my neck and bosom, teasing and tantalizing.

  “Thomas,” I breathed, “we shouldn’t—”

  He stopped my words with his mouth, then leaned back and looked at me with burning, hungry, narrow eyes, absolutely unlike the Thomas I knew, but intriguing. He took one finger and outlined the neckline of my gown and then dipped lower inside. I caught my breath. He fumbled with the lacing of my bodice. My hands flew to my chest. He chuckled deeply and grasped my skirt now, edging it upward.

  Our hearts banged together, pushed tight against each other. The heat from his body wrapped around me, curling like tendrils of vine around my limbs, and I melted into him, closer, closer. It was too hard to deny him. I hadn’t the strength. Besides, I was hungry too. This was Thomas, with whom I was absolutely head over heels in love. A slippery, delicious desire swelled inside to give in, to finally learn all about this thing I had heard of in late-night whispers at school. And it was with my darling Thomas, who would return to marry me. I reached behind him and pulled up his shirt to caress his back. So smooth and warm and velvety. I wanted to feel my skin against his.

  And then I paused, stiffened, and withdrew my arms. What am I doing? It didn’t matter that we were in love. I had been taught better, and could not feel right about this. There was an order to such things.

  “No,” I said. “We need to stop.”

  He ignored my words and only grasped tighter as I attempted to pull away. Annoyance gave strength to my objections. How dare even Thomas try to force his will, as if I had no say in what we did, how far we went? As I pushed upon his chest, I looked into his countenance. There was a feral curl to his lips, and the craving in his eyes was sly and slick. Something wasn’t right. These were Thomas’s features—the lean face and firm chin, the gray irises and dark hair curling behind his ears—but the expression was all wrong. These were Thomas’s long fingers and lanky limbs, but their movements were sinuously smooth, which should have been pleasing, but wasn’t. Instead they were menacing. Something else … he smelled wrong. Not unpleasant, but musky, different. This was Thomas—wasn’t it?

  “What’s happened to you?” I whispered.

  I made myself relax so that his arms would loosen and he’d begin groping again instead of imprisoning. I reached down into my pocket and closed my fingers over the amber stone—and gasped.

  With all my strength I shoved against the man’s chest so he fell away. I leaped up before he could collect himself and ran, ran, ran faster than I could possibly run, not looking back, listening for the pounding of feet behind me, expecting any second to be wrenched backward.

  I was nearly halfway to the canoe when my too-big boots finally did what they had been waiting to do ever since I bought them: they sent me sprawling face-first. I scrabbled in the mud and roots and loam, fighting with my skirts to right myself. I rose up on my hands and knees, looked up, and froze. There he came, sauntering, because speed wasn’t necessary. I could not flee. I could not fight. I could not move a finger. All I could do was wait. His gaze held me, as if I were a bird hypnotized by a snake. This was it. He smiled.

  From the corner of my eye I could see something rising from the trees and coming toward me. A wavering cloud. A cloud of … bees. They swarmed about and lit upon me, covering me from head to toe. Their wings whirred. They hummed reassuringly. I huddled there in my armor of insects ready to sting, still watching him.

  The smile fled from his face as he came close enough to see clearly. He stared and a stifled sound rose from his throat. He turned on his heels and loped away.

  “Thank you,” I whispered when I was sure he was long gone.

  The bees lifted now, hovered about for a moment, and swarmed away once more.

  Able to move again, I pulled myself together and made my way to the canoe. When I was at last safe in the middle of the current and thought of what had happened, I wanted to scream. I wanted to vomit. I wanted to scrub myself until there was no skin left.

  When I’d touched the amber, Thomas’s features had blurred and another face slid over—Uwa’s. Thomas’s skin had been stripped away and there had lain Uwa’s flesh in its place. In the end, only the bees had kept him from doing what he wanted with me.

  What have they done with Thomas?

  My confusion and shame gave way to terror. I didn’t understand how the VanZeldts did what they did, but I believed in their powers now with a biting, painful certainty. I had thought I’d seen the limit of it with the forgetfulness that had plagued me. But this—if they could do this, could make me see so clearly what was not there, how could I possibly fight such a force? They must somehow have realized their spell had been broken, that I had visited Thomas again. So they had hidden him away somewhere till they could complete their plans. Or worse. Could it be they had finished carrying out their plot? That he was already gone?

  No! I would not think that way. I will find him. I will rescue him.

  “But I don’t know what to do,” I whispered aloud. “Please tell me what to do.”

  I needed help.

  I told them everything, as simply as I could relate it. I had to. I needed every one of them—Michael’s strength, Laney’s good judgment, Sunny’s survival instincts, Miss Elsa’s calm and creativity, and Seeley’s sense of adventure and love for our soldier. I had learned to my sorrow what could happen when people were kept in the dark about important things.

  When I first told of our visits with Thomas, Sunny murmured, “Sly minx,” and Seeley made an odd squeaking sound since I was relating events he had forgotten completely. Other than that, everyone was silent until I came to the part about forgetting Thomas and finding the amulet, and then the bit about Uwa (suitably censored). These elements caused some sharply indrawn breaths. “Thomas is missing,” I said in the end, “and I’m so scared; please help me save him.”

  Michael, Laney, and Seeley all looked bewildered, struggling to believe me as they came to terms with their failed memories. Michael gave a low whistle and rumpled Seeley’s hair. “This puppy sure kept the secret good.”

  Seeley grinned and looked down, rubbing nervous fingers over one of his little horses. “It must have been easy to keep that secret. Especially once I forgot everything.” He squinted a little, and I wondered if his head hurt, as mine had, with all the forgetting and straining to remember.

  Laney had been rocking with Cubby in her arms, her head cocked to one side as she listened. She rocked faster and faster as the story unfolded. Now she said, “Why do you guess Dr. VanZeldt helped with Seeley when he’s up to these terrible tricks? What’s his reason?”

  I shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I think he really did want to make Seeley better. He genuinely does like to heal people. Amenze—the girl—said they don’t think of evil as we do. To them, if their purposes are considered good things for their people, then they’re justified in whatever they do. Other than that, I guess you could call the doctor a kind, considerate person. Amenze thinks he’s wonderful.”

  “No one is all good or all bad,” Miss Elsa murmured.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Sunny said. “All this time sneaking off, having a secret life.”

  “You were busy with Dorian, and anyway, it’s not as it seems,” I hastened to say. “It started as just an adventure—like in one of Thomas’s books—but as it got more serious, we couldn’t take any chances. Seeley and I were all Thomas had. For one thing, I didn’t know exactly what your feelings would be toward a Union soldier and I didn’t want to put any of you in the position of breaking the law. Then, as I began to distrust Dorian, more than ever I didn’t dare breathe a word—who knows what he might have done?”

  There were some nods when I mentioned Dorian, and Sunny sniffed. “Oh, pooh. As if we’d have let that cad betray the poor soldier.” No one was cruel
enough to remind her how deep she had been in the cad’s pocket. The red flash from Thomas’s ring caught her eye. “I declare, Violet Dancey, what do we have there?”

  I blushed as I held it out. “Thomas gave it to me yesterday. As a token of his—his constancy.”

  A light had begun to slowly seep into Seeley’s eyes. Suddenly he cried, “I remember! I remember now. He kissed her too.” He sounded smug and they all grinned. “You didn’t think I saw, but I did. I see and hear everything.”

  Sunny giggled. “No wonder you’re so eager to rescue him.”

  “ ‘Constancy’!” Miss Elsa looked concerned. “Oh, my dear, are you sure? A Northerner …”

  I nodded. “I’m sure. But there’s no time to waste. Thomas—and possibly all of us—is in grave danger. We must act quickly. What do we do? Should we go to the marshal? Or to the nearest Federal officer since he’s one of their own? Or is it something a minister like Mr. Stone is better equipped to deal with?”

  “We go to my aunty,” Laney stated flatly. “These folks practice hoodoo and there’s nothing regular folks can do to stop them, even a man of God like Mr. Stone. Aunty will know.”

  We discussed it briefly, but we all knew she was right. Anarchy was our best and only choice, and it was decided that Laney would accompany me.

  Sunny reached for Cubby. “Come to Aunt Sunny, honey. They don’t need to tote a baby along.” She bounced him in her arms—too heartily, but Cubby was a forgiving infant.

  Laney hesitated for just a moment, then sent Michael a speaking look. He would make sure Cubby came to no harm with “Aunt Sunny.”

  Sunny caught my eye and mouthed, “Am I forgiven?”

  I nodded. She blinked and buried her face in Cubby’s neck. Taking care of a baby was so out of character for Sunny that it nearly brought a tear to my eye to realize the sacrifice she was making. How awkwardly but determinedly she held the baby. And I think for the first time she considered us—all of us—family.