Aether Spirit

by Cecilia Dominic

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Claire clasped her hands together. “Can we talk about this elsewhere? I’m not sure about any of it.”

  “Of course. We can find something to eat later.”

  They left. She continued to shiver, and he placed her cloak around her. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and sleep, but she feared what would happen. Would she dream again? Would the dead then not dead woman appear to her?

  She didn’t really pay attention to where they were going. She only noticed when Calla approached them with a question in her eyes.

  “Would you fetch Doctor McPhee some tea, please?” Chad asked her. Calla nodded and darted off.

  When they arrived in her room, the first thing Claire saw was her own pale, wide-eyed reflection in the window. She cringed. She looked like one of the hysterics of Salpêtrière, and maybe she was more like them than she thought. She sank into the chair and put her head in her hands.

  “This can’t be happening to me,” she said. “I’m supposed to be better.”

  “Tell me everything.”

  She looked up, and he blurred into a smudge with the tears in her eyes. “I can’t. You’ll think me mad.”

  He pressed a warm cup into her hands, and she took a sip of the tea. She thought she tasted something bitter in it, perhaps more of whatever remedy Lacey thought she needed the first night she stayed there. She put the cup aside. The last thing she needed was to be trapped in her dreams.

  “Claire, whatever it is, we’ll get through it. You know I’m here for you, but I need to know what’s happening so I can help you.”

  He was patient, so very kind. He deserved better than her with her broken mind.

  “I can’t explain it.”

  He wrapped her hands in his, which were so very warm. She still hadn’t stopped shaking.

  “You don’t have to explain it, just describe it.”

  So she told him everything that had happened in the women’s hospital. He listened with a slight frown, and she wanted to stop but she couldn’t. Soon tears dripped from her cheeks to her arms and soaked through the cloak and the sleeves of her dress, but she couldn’t stop them until the story was over. She wiped her eyes and tried to remove the tears from her glasses with the corner of her cloak, but it only smudged them further.

  “Here,” Radcliffe said. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. “I’m sorry, I forgot I had this. And you say that Lillian didn’t hear any sort of odd noise?”

  “No, only me talking. And she said Mrs. Soper was sleeping peacefully and whatever she’d seen must have been a trick of the light.”

  “And you didn’t have any of these strange sensations before your treatment this afternoon?”

  “Only ones that a highly suggestible mind would respond to. Drat, I’ve been dense. I thought I was seeing ghosts, but it was only the impression that seeing the general’s daughter’s grave left on me, the tragedy of it all.”

  “I’m glad it’s making sense for you, although I’m disturbed that you’re having these experiences.”

  “You’re disturbed?”

  He nodded, and she felt him recoiling emotionally. “It means that your mind is still damaged in some way. It might be resisting treatment because it knows we’re trying to heal you, so it’s making you worse. I just have one more thing to ask you, then. How did you get to the hospital from the general’s house?”

  There was no point in lying if he was already horrified by her sick brain. “The ghost of the general’s daughter woke me, and then Mrs. Soper showed me a secret tunnel from the house to the hospital. I got stuck on that end when the house got shelled.”

  “But Mrs. Soper was in bed the whole time. That’s where she was trapped, and Major Longchamp didn’t see her pass him by. I asked him if he saw anyone when he arrived there, and he said no.”

  Claire shrugged and gave him the most defiant look she could muster at the moment, which probably made her look as threatening as a kitten. “Maybe I imagined the whole thing, but then I would have walked through the worst of the bombardment.”

  “Can you show me where you emerged in the hospital?”

  “No, by the time I got there, I was so disoriented I can’t tell you where I came in.” Her hands stopped shaking, although she still felt shivery. “I’m not feeling well. Can we continue this another time?”

  Chad nodded and stood. “I’ll send Calla in to help you get ready for bed. Sleep well, and we’ll figure this out in the morning.” He kissed the top of her head and left.

  As promised, Calla appeared a moment later and helped Claire undress. She turned off the light, and Claire rolled over, but a cold hand shook her by the shoulder.

  “It’s my turn for you to listen to my story. You promised!”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Fort Daniels, 27 February 1871

  Chad walked to the room he now shared with Patrick in the Negroes’ quarters and found Patrick in bed reading a penny dreadful. The room thankfully had two small beds, not one larger one, so they wouldn’t have to share.

  “I thought you’d read all of those,” Chad said.

  “Got a new box of them on the wagon from town today,” Patrick replied without looking up. “Since when do you care what I read? What’s got your knickers in a bunch?”

  “Claire.”

  Now Patrick put the pamphlet down and raised his eyebrows. “You’re fighting already? That didn’t take long.”

  Chad spoke as he undressed and changed into his nightclothes. “No, she started hallucinating soon after she woke from our treatment this afternoon. I fear I won’t be able to do any more with her.”

  “But does she still remember what she learned from her father?”

  Chad turned to face him, exasperated. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask her about lenses amid the insane things she was telling me. They didn’t seem relevant at the time.”

  “Our work is always relevant. That’s why we’re here.”

  Chad didn’t favor Patrick with a reply. He could be mercenary sometimes, especially when faced with a goal or task that he felt was for the greater good. Chad could worry about that tomorrow. Right now, he kept returning to the haunted cast to Claire’s eyes and face. “Do you think anyone really gets over hysteria?”

  “You’re the doctor. You’d know more about this than I do, but I can’t recall anyone ever being quite right after having experienced it, especially severe cases.”

  “I was afraid you were going to say that.” Chad, now in his night shirt, sat on the bed and rubbed his tired eyes. What was he going to do? He’d thought he had his Claire back, but it turned out his hope was only an illusion. What he’d tried had failed and made her worse. He’d take care of her, but he would have to watch for signs that being near here was activating her hypnotic blocks and causing more problems.

  I fear that after this is all over, we might have to part ways again, but this time forever.

  He was almost asleep when he heard a shriek.

  * * * * *

  “You’re not real,” Claire told the ghost. “You’re something my mind made up to deal with all this, and the fact that I can see and hear you means I’m still suffering from some sort of hysteria.”

  “Regardless of what you think I am, you promised. Even if I come from your mind, don’t you think it’s worth it to listen to me? Maybe I can solve both our problems.”

  Just my luck, the figments of my imagination argue with me.

  Claire sat and propped herself up with the two thin pillows. The ghost, who sat on the side of the bed, appeared solid, and Claire knew if she touched it, it would be cold.

  “Fine,” Claire said. “Go ahead.”

  “Aren’t you going to ask me nice questions like you do with the boys in the hospital?”

  “See? You knowi
ng how I work only proves that you’re a product of my mind.”

  “Or I’ve been following you.”

  Claire thought about the unexplained chills she’d been experiencing. “That’s just as bad. My work requires some privacy. That’s why I meet with the young men in the corners of wards where we’re less likely to be overheard.”

  “I don’t sleep. What else am I supposed to do? You’re the only one who’s been able to see me aside from Mrs. Soper. So you’re the only human who can see me.”

  Claire hugged the blankets to her chest and scrunched her eyes and face against the memory of what she thought she’d seen in the old woman’s hospital room. “I could almost believe you. What do you think she is?”

  “First you listen to my story. Then I’ll tell you whatever you need to know about her.” Emma scrunched her face. “At least as much as I know, which isn’t much.”

  “Okay.” Claire opened her eyes. Yep, the ghost was still there. “Tell me about yourself.”

  Emma took a deep breath—could ghosts breathe?—and told her story. “I was born in Chattanooga, but when the war started, my father, who was and is loyal to the Union, moved us up to Maryland just outside of Baltimore. We were far enough from the politics, but close enough to know that there were many who wanted to belong to the Confederacy. It all seemed very mixed up, with everyone being in the wrong place. I hated it there. We should’ve just sent the ones who wanted to be part of the Confederacy to their desired home and be done with it.”

  She paused, and Claire motioned for her to continue.

  “Except for one. His name was Thaddeus Mitchell, and although his parents were loyal to the South—they had lots of family there—they wouldn’t leave because his father had a successful business. He was a horse trader, and he held his nose and supplied the Union army. My father took me with him on one of the trips to talk to him, and that’s when I met Thaddeus. He was so handsome with his dark brown hair and green eyes, and he laughed and smiled with me as our fathers talked. My father left happy because his men would be horsed, and I left with my heart full of hope that I had finally met my true love. Of course it wasn’t to be.

  “Thaddeus came to see me a few weeks later. We had exchanged letters, and my father had grudgingly agreed that he could court me. He first said I was too young. My mother said it was fine since I would be coming out the following year, and it never hurt to have an early prospect. I think she counted on Thaddeus making other young men jealous and therefore more likely to pursue me. But I didn’t want any other man.”

  Emma lifted her chin in a defiant manner.

  “Sometimes you can’t help who you fall in love with,” Claire murmured.

  “No, and our meeting was so Thaddeus could say goodbye. He said his father couldn’t live with himself supplying the enemy, so he was moving them back to Mississippi and joining with family there. We said a tearful goodbye, and my heart broke then and every time I heard of a battle in the area. I didn’t know exactly where they’d gone, and I grew weak and sick with worry that he’d joined the Confederate army and been killed.

  “We moved here so Father could take control of the base. It turned out to be a good move for him, but not for my mother, especially as Father started spending more and more time with Major Longchamp, the buggerer. After one big fight, my mother thought it would be best for her and me to go to her people in California. I didn’t want to go. I had got a letter from Thaddeus that he was stationed at Fort Temperance, and we could meet and court in secret until the war was over, and then we could figure out how to marry. Mother found it and showed Father. She accused him of being corrupted by being here, and me with him.”

  Emma clasped her hands in her lap and bit her lip.

  “Love isn’t corruption,” Claire told her. Her heart ached for the young woman’s forbidden feelings.

  “She wouldn’t let me write back to Thaddeus, only whisked me away the next day. You know I contracted consumption in California and died there, but my father insisted I be brought back and buried here. My mother complied. She was ready to move on to a new life and a new husband, and she wanted nothing more to do with him or memories of him. I came with my body—what else could I do? I’m tied to my broken heart—and that’s how I ended up here. I moved back into my room, but like I said, no one’s been able to see me until you did. I was so excited when I followed you to the hospital and saw Thaddeus is here too. He will soon join me, and then we can be together forever, but I need you to tell him not to struggle, that I’m here. Maybe you can help him see me so I can comfort him as he passes over.”

  Emma looked up from her hands, and her eyes shone with hope. Claire wanted to hug her but knew it was impossible. Could she help the dead girl? Would she risk an even bigger rift with Chad if she did so? She needed more information first.

  “What do you mean?” Claire asked. “I don’t know how I can see you, and I’m still doubtful as to whether you are really a ghost or just another tragic story my mind is spinning out because of my own broken heart.”

  “You didn’t know all of this about me beforehand. You can check the base records. Or even better, talk to that scamp Longchamp or my father.” She wrinkled her nose. “I always wondered why I didn’t have any brothers or sisters. I heard my mother speaking to someone after I died but before my body was sent back that my father had given me to her to keep her busy so he could pursue his own affairs. With men.”

  Claire didn’t tell the girl that the feelings she’d sensed between the two men weren’t odd aside from the fact that it was two men. She’d perceived the same thing between Martine and another male medical student, and he was otherwise healthy as far as she could tell. She’d come to the conclusion long ago that love would happen when it happened.

  “And why is your heart broken?” Emma gestured to the door. “You have your true love back even if you don’t have your memories of him or what happened.”

  “I…” Claire shook her head. “Did you see how he looked at me earlier when we were together? He can’t love me because I’m damaged, and he won’t risk hurting me.”

  “Don’t be a fool. You’re worthy of love no matter what. Like I was. And once you help me, I’ll be free to help you.”

  “Because you’ll have passed to the next step? What is it?”

  Emma spread her hands. “For some of us, it’s Heaven. That’s what I’m hoping. For my father, I don’t know.”

  “I like to believe that since love comes from the creator, it’s not going to land us in Hell,” Claire told her. “I had no idea my mind would prompt such philosophical musings. Perhaps because it’s late. Now what of your promise to tell me about Mrs. Soper?”

  “I’ll let her tell you herself. I’m off to tell Thaddeus you’re going to help me. He won’t hear me, but maybe he’ll feel it, and it will comfort him.”

  She disappeared, and Mrs. Soper walked through the closed door and into the room. She was surrounded by a golden glow that flickered from her eyes.

  “Now, child, you don’t need to be asking questions you don’t want to know the answers to,” she said in a resonant voice. “And this is bigger than all of you. Why can’t you humans stop meddling with things you have no business playing with?”

  She grabbed Claire’s wrist, and a shriek escaped from Claire before she could help it.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Fort Daniels, 27 February 1871

  Chad darted across the hall to Claire’s room. The door was unlocked, and he flung it open.

  A dark figure with glowing eyes swung around and pointed a finger at him.

  “You’ll not break this girl’s heart again,” it said. “And if you do, it will be the death of both of you.”

  “What in the name of—” Patrick muttered, but silenced when the being disappeared in a plume of golden flame that burned out, leaving them blinking the afterimage from their visi
on.

  Chad rushed to Claire’s bed and took her in his arms. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. I think so.”

  “What was that?” Chad asked. And are we all hallucinating now?

  “I don’t know.” She shook again, and he sat beside her so she could lean against him.

  He chafed her freezing hands. “Patrick, will you trouble Miss Lacey for another blanket?”

  “Aye.” He left, and Chad wished he’d asked Patrick to light one of the lamps before he went. Subdued moonlight shone through the window, and he couldn’t tell if Claire’s lips were blue or if it was just the quality of the illumination.

  “What happened?” Chad asked.

  She shook her head. “Are you going to think I was hallucinating again? It’s like what happened this afternoon with Lillian—she saw it, but then she didn’t remember.”

  “I don’t know that I could forget that. Do you know what it was?”

  “I think it might have been Mrs. Soper. Or something that took possession of her.”

  “Like what?”

  She shivered again.

  Chad drew her tighter.

  “I think it might have been something associated with the aether.”

  Patrick returned with an extra blanket and a concerned Mother Lacey.

  “Have the haints been bothering you, dear?” she asked and lit a lamp. “I’ll send Calla in to stay with you.”

  She moved to tuck the blanket in around Claire, and Radcliffe said, “Allow me.”

  Claire didn’t want him to release her, but she wouldn’t cling to him. She was overwrought, but she wanted to appear fine lest they think she was descending back into madness.

  Probably too late to avoid that.

  Lacey bustled out. Chad sat on the bed again, and she leaned against him. The blocks in her mind sent needle-sharp pains to her temples. She clenched her hands into fists under the blanket so she wouldn’t give in to the impulse to massage her head.

  “Head hurting?” he asked.

  “Yes, damn it. You could tell?”

  “I can see when you’re in pain, and you’re more likely to swear.” He stood and moved away, and the pain lessened, but now she was soul-cold as well as physically chilled. She wished he would come hold her again, but she wasn’t going to ask him to.