Jenny Plague-Bringer: (Jenny Pox #4)

by J. Bryan

  “Who?” Seth asked.

  “That’s what we’ve called them in the past,” Jenny said. “She’s the oracle. Her opposite is the seer, a very nasty soul.”

  “Are you talking about reincarnation?” Mariella asked. “I thought you didn’t believe in that.”

  “I can remember hundreds of lifetimes,” Jenny said. “I mean, not all at once, obviously. And the last few are the most difficult for me, because the person who opened my mind to my memories...Alexander...he didn’t want me to remember those lives. So he blocked them, or kept me from opening them, or something. I’m working on unraveling the last one, because I think it matters now.”

  “I knew it!” Mariella said. “I’ve always felt that I’ve lived before.”

  “We all have,” Jenny told her. “And you were part of the last one, and so was your opposite. That’s why it’s important we figure out what happened. It’s the only way to figure out what the seer wants and how we can stop him.”

  Seth was raising his eyebrows at her, clearly surprised she’d told Mariella so much. Jenny shrugged. Let Seth judge for himself when he learned more about who she was, Jenny thought. Mariella’s past life didn’t necessarily tell Jenny who Mariella was in this lifetime, and it was always best to be suspicious.

  “Can you tell me about my past lives?” Mariella asked.

  “I will, if you feel like listening. The duck’s going to roast another hour. I’ll have to catch you up on the story so far...and this calls for another glass of wine, so let’s pretend I’m drinking one.” She slid her glass across the table to Seth, who drank it down like it was Jell-o shot. “You might as well open the next bottle, Seth.”

  He smiled and walked to the kitchen. Jenny’s plan was to get Seth completely sloshed before Mariella left. Maybe she could put off the big pregnancy talk one more day.

  “The last time we saw each other, it was the Great Depression,” Jenny said, “1933.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Just before they reached Charleston, Barrett took over the driving from Juliana, explaining that city driving was a little more complicated, and there were rules to learn.

  The city of Charleston was full of life, with street vendors hawking everything from newspapers to fresh shrimp, trolleys crawling through the crowded downtown, music playing from open windows and balconies. It was a far more beautiful place than Juliana had expected, full of masterfully worked wrought-iron gates and fences, brick walls and high columns. Mr. Barrett must have brought in craftsmen from Charleston to build his mansion, Juliana thought, because the style was the same.

  Massive old trees lined the streets, live oak and magnolias dripping with Spanish moss and wisteria. The towers of churches and cathedrals reached toward the sky on almost every block.

  “I love this city,” Juliana said. “You wouldn’t even know there was a Depression at all.”

  “You can thank the United States Navy for that,” Barrett told her. “They’ve expanded the shipyards and they’re turning out battleships like clockwork. Good for jobs, good for business. I was even lucky enough to invest in some of the companies that provision the shipyard. Really helps us weather the economy.”

  “Battleships?” Juliana asked. “Is another war coming?”

  “The more battleships you have, the easier it is to keep the peace.” Barrett honked at a slow, horse-drawn wagon loaded with vegetables blocking up the street ahead of them. “Remember, we have two big oceans to control, the Atlantic and the Pacific. That takes a lot of ships, and Charleston is proud to provide them.”

  They finally reached a four-story, colonial-style office building a few blocks from the wharf, its bricks painted a cheerful blue color, its windows trimmed in gold and white. The artfully carved and painted wooden sign by the front door listed several businesses, one of which was “Barrett Mercantiles.”

  “This is where I have to be dull and go through paperwork,” Barrett told them as he got out of the car. He circled around to open Juliana’s door, but Sebastian climbed out first and beat him to it, holding her hand as she stepped down from the running board. Barrett gave Sebastian a smirk, then handed Juliana a pair of twenty-dollar bills. “The city is yours. Buy clothes, a suitcase, whatever you want for your journey.”

  “Do we need to buy food for the trip?” Juliana asked.

  “Of course not. You’ll eat in the dining saloon, all expenses charged to my account,” Barrett said. “You may want books and magazines. It’s nine days at sea before you arrive in Hamburg. Meet me back here at sunset.” He tipped his hat and walked up the brick steps into the building.

  Juliana and Sebastian smiled at each other. Such a fantastic city to enjoy, and such an amazing amount of money with which to do it.

  They explored the streets, shaded by the old trees and dappled with summer sunlight. Juliana bought herself new gloves and two dresses at a boutique, including a chiffon evening gown with flapper-style beadwork on the long sleeves—she felt like she should have something nice if she was traveling to Europe. She picked out a simple white collared shirt and trousers for Sebastian, after he vetoed a couple of fancier embroidered options.

  They explored the city market, a few blocks of long, low sheds full of vendor stalls, the area marked by “Market Hall,” a building that looked like an ancient Greek temple, complete with columns and a sculpted triangular pediment. Juliana was reminded of the impressive courthouse in Fallen Oak. Many of the merchants were black men and women in colorful clothing, who spoke among themselves in some sort of African language she couldn’t begin to understand.

  They ate a gumbo of shrimp, sausage, corn, and potatoes, served by a woman who called it “Beaufort Boil.” It was so thick their spoons could almost stand up in the broth.

  They went to a picture show, where Juliana hoped to see the popular new Mae West film, but the theater was showing a monster movie called King Kong instead, which Sebastian was pleased to discover. They held hands as the lights went down in the smoky theater. Juliana was impressed by the movie’s special effects, but she spent most of the time kissing and caressing Sebastian in the dark.

  At sunset, they met up with Mr. Barrett, who took them for supper at a tavern by the docks. It was a dingy, dark, and loud place and served some of the tastiest food Juliana had ever eaten—shrimp with a kind of barbecue sauce, crabs, and fried balls of cornmeal called “hushpuppies.” Barrett talked a lot about the history of Charleston and South Carolina, but said little about Juliana and Sebastian’s coming voyage.

  Afterward, they went to a speakeasy where a live band played bouncing, brassy jazz that made Juliana want to dance. The place served Caribbean rum and didn’t bother being discreet about it, probably because the Prohibition laws were crumbling—beer was already legal again, and there was talk that full repeal of the Eighteenth Amendment was on the way.

  From their wobbly table in the back, Juliana watched the city girls dancing on the crowded floor, dressed in their extravagant feather hats and fringed dresses that left much of their legs bare. They drank, smoked, and flirted freely with the boys, and Juliana thought they were quite glamorous.

  “Come and dance,” Barrett said after a few minutes, reaching for Juliana’s gloved hand.

  “I can’t! There are too many people,” Juliana told him. “It’s dangerous for you, too, Mr. Barrett.”

  “I very much prefer that you call me ‘Jonathan,’” he told her, not for the first time.

  “As you like,” Juliana said.

  “I would like for you to dance. You won’t see great jazz bands like this in Europe. Enjoy it while it lasts.” Barrett stood and held out his hand expectantly.

  “I don’t know...” Juliana looked at the crowded floor, then at Sebastian. He gave a shrug and raised his glass, acting indifferent.

  “Come along, before the night grows old and dies,” Barrett said. He took her arm just above the elbow, protected by her long-sleeved dress, which already had her hot and sweating in the crowded nightspot.<
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  Juliana rose from her chair and swayed under the influence of dark rum as he led her to the dance floor. She did her best to imitate the swinging arms and wide steps of the other girls. Barrett himself was a skilled dancer and led her as best as he could. She laughed at herself but kept moving, unable to resist the fast-paced siren song of the nine-piece brass band and the beautiful dark-skinned lady who sang in front of them. The tunes were light, all about dancing and flirting, though they grew more ribald as the night flowed on.

  While she was lost on the crowded dance floor with him and out of Sebastian’s sight, Barrett stole a kiss from her, in spite of the danger, and her demon plague did not hurt him at all. Juliana would have slapped him, but she was too stunned at finding him immune to her power.

  Much later, the three of them staggered out into the street, the stiff breeze off the ocean very welcome after the thick, smoky air of the speakeasy. They clambered into Barrett’s car, and he swerved wildly as he drove them away. Juliana closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of the wind.

  Barrett’s apartment in Charleston was the top floor of a regal old Tudor mansion with a walled courtyard full of flowers and wrought-iron staircases. He swayed heavily as he led them up to an apartment furnished with dark wood, the tall windows hung with thick curtains, creating the same tomb-like feeling as his house in Fallen Oak. Juliana had her own guest bedroom, while Sebastian slept on a long leather couch in the sitting room, which had to be more comfortable than his cot in the roustie tent.

  Juliana lay awake for nearly half an hour, staring at the moonlit door to her room. She’d left it unlocked, in the drunken hope that Sebastian would be bold and impertinent enough to visit her in the night. He never came, and she eventually passed out.

  She had confused but vivid dreams, in which Mr. Barrett was some dark-eyed king in ancient Greece, and she was his weapon, bringing the demon plague to a city he meant to conquer.

  * * *

  In the morning, Barrett had a large, dark woman in a bright dress come to the apartment and prepare a bracing breakfast of “grits,” bacon, coffee and fresh-squeezed orange juice. It was the perfect cure for the slight hangover Juliana felt from the night before. It would have been much worse if she hadn’t danced out so much of the alcohol.

  He drove them to the docks and showed them the towering steel ship that would whisk them across the Atlantic like a seafaring locomotive. Its name was painted in huge black letters on the hull: S.S. Eurydice.

  “I wish you both the best of luck,” Barrett said, giving them their tickets. He took Juliana’s gloved hand and held it. “Be safe.”

  “Thank you so much for everything, Mr....Jonathan,” Juliana said.

  “Mr. Jonathan?” Barrett laughed. “I’ll accept it this time. Next time you see me, I expect to be addressed correctly.”

  “I don’t suppose we will see you again, though,” Sebastian said, with an ‘ain’t-that-a-shame’ sort of smile. “Not for a long time.”

  “As it happens, I plan to visit Berlin myself in the near future,” Barrett said. “A little more of that boring shipping business. With any luck, my friends in the Human Evolution Congress will invite me to see the advanced work they’ll be doing with you. So we may meet again sooner than you expect, Sebastian.”

  Sebastian nodded, frowning, and didn’t say anything.

  “Until then, good luck and Godspeed to you both.” Barrett held Juliana’s hand, then slowly released her and offered his hand to Sebastian instead.

  “Thank you for all your help, Mr. Barrett.” Sebastian said, though his tone was cold. “We appreciate it more than we can say.”

  When Sebastian shook Barrett’s hand, Barrett hissed and jerked his hand back. Barrett stared at his palm, and Juliana saw what looked like burn marks across his fingers.

  “Did I squeeze your hand too hard?” Sebastian asked, clearly trying not to snicker. “I forget my own strength.”

  “The strength of your grip had nothing to do with it,” Barrett hissed. He showed Sebastian the strange burn marks on his hand.

  “Oh, let me heal that for you,” Sebastian whispered, reaching for him.

  “Don’t touch me again!” Barrett tucked his hand into his coat pocket and glared at Sebastian with an ugly expression on his face, full of hate. Then it smoothed out into a businesslike smile. “I hope you enjoy each other.” He tipped his hat and walked back toward his car, leaving them at the crowded ticket gate.

  “What just happened?” Juliana asked.

  “My touch hurt him instead of healing him. What a pity.” Sebastian sounded almost delighted. “Come on, let’s get onboard. I can’t wait to cross the ocean.”

  The S.S. Eurydice was a multi-deck steamship with its hull filled with cargo—international mail, rum and tobacco from the West Indies, timber and cotton from the United States. A few hundred passengers rode on the upper floors.

  Juliana had a stateroom on the highest deck, with a teak chest of drawers and matching wardrobe, a queen-sized bed, soft carpeting, and a private bath, lit by ornate sconce lamps and a row of curtained portholes. Seth’s room was on the same hall, in a servant’s nook, essentially just a cot in a narrow closet without a single window.

  “How posh,” Seth said, looking over his quarters.

  “It’s better than sleeping with four roustabouts in a tent on a summer night,” Juliana pointed out.

  “It’s also better than sleeping in a sewer during a flood, or in a barrel of rusty nails. It’s better than so many things.”

  “If you’re pleasant to me this evening, I may let you sleep on the divan in my sitting room,” she said.

  “Or we could trade rooms,” Sebastian suggested.

  “I don’t believe that will happen. Shall we watch the launch?”

  “Won’t it be crowded out on the deck?” Sebastian asked. He knew how being in a crowd terrified her.

  “Not on the top deck,” Juliana said. “Most passengers don’t have access.”

  “Aren’t we traveling in high style?”

  They watched from the railing of the upper deck as the steamship chugged away from the terminal. Most of the passengers were crowded on the level below them, leaning over the railing and waving good-bye to a matching crowd on the dock, friends and family seeing them off. There was a festive mood, like the beginning of a party.

  She spotted Jonathan Barrett among the crowd on the land. Apparently, he hadn’t driven off at all. He stood with his arms crossed, smoking a cigar, standing apart from the rest of the crowd. Even from this distance, she could feel his dark eyes picking out her form on the upper deck, watching the stiff, salty wind tousle her white dress and dark hair. She looked back at him, and her heart beat at a faster tempo. He was dangerous to her, even at a distance.

  Sebastian circled an arm around her waist and drew her close.

  “You have a look in your eyes,” he said. “What are you looking at?”

  She turned to face him, hoping he wouldn’t notice Barrett watching from the dock.

  “It’s such a long way,” Juliana said. “Aren’t you scared?”

  “I’m scared of sleeping in that little closet for nine nights.”

  “Then you’d better enjoy your days, hadn’t you?”

  “This one’s already looking much brighter.” He drew her close and gave her a long kiss, long enough to wipe out any thought of Jonathan Barrett until he was just a tiny shadow, lost over the horizon.

  I feel nothing for Mr. Barrett, Juliana told herself. Nothing at all.

  She and Sebastian explored the ship, which was filled with entertainments for the passengers. There was a tennis court, a restaurant, a lounge with a piano player and a singer. They amused themselves sitting on deck chairs and reading each other stories from the pulp magazines Sebastian had bought from a newsstand in Charleston. The magazines had lurid covers and names like Amazing Stories and Weird Tales, and they were filled with stories about aliens, ghosts, and detectives.

  They ate steak
with smoked mussels, accompanied by summer salad and a great deal of Spanish wine. In the lounge, they found themselves playing cards with a minor French diplomat on his way from New Orleans to France, accompanied by his strikingly attractive young mistress, a stage actress. Juliana tried to get them to talk about life in Paris, but he stubbornly returned to his favorite subject, horse breeding, which he discussed in long, graphic, and highly specific detail. When the music slowed, Juliana coaxed Sebastian into a dance, which continued for the next two songs.

  Later, they walked the promenade deck, her arm tucked into his, with a billion stars glowing in the cloudless sky above. Their walk slowed considerably after they turned a corner and found themselves alone on a stretch of the deck. Jenny looked up at the stars. Rain was starting to fall, but it was warm, and neither of them ran for shelter.

  “Do you think there’s life out there, like in Amazing Stories?” she asked him.

  “You mean three-eyed monsters with blue tentacles who fly around in metal bubbles and shoot rayguns?” Sebastian asked, referring to a story they’d read earlier.

  “Just any life at all. It looks so dark and cold. And lonely.”

  “My mother told me that the stars were all alive. She said they were angels watching over us.”

  Juliana smiled. “Imagine something that’s alive, but made entirely of light. Or darkness.” She looked down at her hands, imagining the demon plague inside her, which she always pictured as a swarm of tiny, poisonous black flies.

  “Beats the three-eyed tentacle alien,” Sebastian said.

  She looked up at him and traced her fingertip along his cheekbone. “Maybe there really are angels. How else could I have been fortunate enough to find you?”

  “You make a good point,” Sebastian told her. “I’m a pretty good find.”

  Juliana looked at him for a long moment, then said, “Walk me to my room.”

  They walked quietly down the passenger corridor. He opened the door to his narrow closet.