I shouted, I’m not sure to whom—to my friends, to Meredith, to God, to anyone who would listen. Then I turned, intending to run back and tell the others.
A faint figure stood in the middle of the tunnel.
It was a small girl, hovering above the floor, stock still. Her eyes were missing, and there was only blackness where they had been, and her head was misshapen, as if part of it was also missing. She seemed to glow from within. I stared, my mouth open in shock, and another figure blinked into view beside her, a boy only slightly bigger than the girl. His legs appeared uneven, and he leaned to one side.
He reached out a skeletal hand.
I don’t know what happened then. I just started running.
Somewhere along the way, I must have dropped the lamp, for I was running in darkness, tripping over the uneven footing, slamming against unseen walls. Too late, I realized I was running deeper into the cave.
Then there was nothing under my feet, and I was falling. I landed on my back. The shock knocked the air out of me. I rolled over and something struck my face. There was a bright flash of light. I was certain that a bullet had split my skull.
Then I was certain of nothing, only vaguely aware that I was still plummeting down a steep slope.
I was unconscious before I hit the bottom.
Chapter Five
Sacramento, California, July 10, 1851
Dearest Frank,
You will find this letter after I have left. When you stopped speaking to me last night, I knew that I had lost the argument. But it won’t change what I must do. I don’t want to endanger you, dear husband, nor do I want you to worry about my safety. I am the Canowiki, and I can take care of myself.
There is no choice. I know you understand this in your heart, but it is too painful to face. So do not worry that I went away without our reconciling, because I know that by the time you read this letter, you will already regret your words.
I heard you leave this morning but pretended to sleep still, because I knew that you didn’t want to continue our argument. I will be staying at the Washington Hotel in Oregon City if you wish to send me a letter. I will write to you regardless, as often as possible. I love you, Frank, never doubt that. But I cannot be who I am if I do not do my duty. I know you realize this, and it is your steadfast love that gives me the strength to go on. It is likely that I am too late to do anything, but I feel I must at least try to help Mary Perkins.
I will return as soon as possible.
Love,
Virginia
Virginia left the letter on Frank’s pillow and grabbed the carpetbag from the foot of the bed. It was slightly lighter than the last time she’d packed it. She’d discovered she didn’t need to bring much gold with her; that indeed, it was a danger and an inconvenience. She intended to turn it into dollars when she reached San Francisco, no matter what the going rate of exchange was.
She wasn’t sure what she could do to help Mary Perkins. The events in the letter had happened long ago, nearly as long ago as her own ordeal in the mountains. Whatever had happened to the children was in the past and couldn’t be changed. It was only her concern for Mary that compelled her to return to the Oregon Territory so soon after leaving it.
She returned to Portland by the same route she had taken before. The same steamship was waiting at the docks, with the same men loading it, and the same captain and first mate, who stared at her curiously.
The ocean was stormy. The captain informed his passengers that it would take an extra day to reach Portland. Most of the passengers stayed in their cabins, many of them seasick from the constant rolling, but Virginia was unaffected, apparently yet another advantage of being the Canowiki.
The ocean scared her more than any beast she had ever confronted. Huge and pitiless, it didn’t care that she was the Canowiki; it would drown her with all the rest. The crew didn’t seem worried, however, and so she walked the small promenade, keeping her balance in the pitching waves. It was a particularly severe tipping of the ship that alerted her to her shadow as he slammed against the railing behind her. She glanced back and saw him glaring at her, as if it was her fault. Then he looked away and ignored her as if she wasn’t there.
He was small man, with quick, furtive movements. His head bobbed as if he couldn’t keep still. He was holding onto the railing for dear life, not looking at the ocean but resolutely at the deck. He was wearing a kind of hat she had never seen, but sensed was the latest fashion back East—the type of haberdashery that was taking the place of beaver felt hats. It was short and round, with an inch-wide brim.
Virginia turned to approach him, but he immediately bolted in the opposite direction. She let him go, but after that, she was on alert. He wasn’t unnatural; she would have sensed him sooner if he was. Whoever he was, he was human.
He came for her in the middle of the night. She heard his footsteps outside her door and was instantly awake, slipping out of the bed and tiptoeing across the room, bowie knife in hand. There were scratching sounds, and then the lock sprang and the door opened. He poked his head in. Virginia recognized the shape of his hat in the dim moonlight. She hooked a hand around the back of his neck and dragged him the rest of the way into the room, tossing him to the floor.
He didn’t cry out as he rolled and rose, facing her in a crouch. She had planned to jump on top of him and put the blade to his throat, but he was surprisingly quick and agile. She squared off against him; then, suddenly, he straightened up and spread out his hands.
“Listen, miss, I mean you no harm,” he said.
“You broke into my room,” Virginia observed. “And you have already shown hostile intentions.”
“Not hostile, simply careful,” the man said. “I figured you saw me and thought it was time we met. Besides, I didn’t want them to see me.”
“Them?” she said.
“You know, the creatures…them.” His voice rose until the last word was both a whisper and a shout.
“Quiet…you’ll wake up everyone,” she said. And why not? she asked herself. I’m the innocent party here.
Yet something about the man was unthreatening. There was more going on here than simple thievery or assault.
“There are only humans on this ship,” Virginia said.
“Well, now,” he said, his voice becoming smoother, more confident. “You’d be knowing that, not me. But I’m glad to hear it. Mr. Reed was sure you were being followed.”
“Apparently I was,” she said.
He grinned at her.
“Sit down, sir.” She waved to the divan across the room. “You need to tell me what you’re doing here and what my father has to do with it.”
He turned his back to her and strode to the sofa, but before sitting, he turned around and said in a pleading voice, “I was sent to watch over you, Miss Reed.”
“Mrs. Frank Whitford,” she corrected him.
“Ah,” he said. “But I was given to understand that when you travel, you take your maiden name.”
How does he know that?
He was still standing, not yet willing to sit down. He hesitated and then extended a hand. “Name’s Porter,” he said. “Angus Porter.”
Virginia didn’t even glance at his hand, nor did she lower the bowie knife. “Go on. You were about to tell me why you’re here.”
Porter dropped his hand. He didn’t seem insulted. “Well, I’ve been hired by your father to watch over you, miss. Which I intend to do.”
“I don’t need your help,” she said. What was true of her husband was true of any human who tried to help her—they would only be in her way. She’d be concerned for their welfare as well as her own. They’d only end up being a distraction, perhaps at the most crucial moment.
“I beg to differ,” he said. “I’ve seen you at work, miss, and I admit you can take care of yourself. But you can’t watch every direction all the time, nor can you avoid sleep. Sometimes, I dare say, you need to relax, if only for a moment. You need someone to guard
you. I can perform that service for you. Believe me, I’ve had experience.”
“Sit down,” Virginia repeated, this time with a commanding tone. Porter looked surprised, but he plopped down on the sofa. She went to the lamp on the desk and lit it, and then brought it over and stood over him.
“Tell me from the beginning,” she said. “How do you know who I am, and how did my father come to hire you?”
“No need to use your witchcraft on me, Miss Reed. I was going to tell you just as soon as you calmed down.”
“I’m calm,” she said, then laughed at the deadly serious tone of her own voice. “All right, now I’m calm. I don’t think you mean me harm, and I sense you are telling the truth—but not all the truth, so out with it.”
Porter straightened his collar, which had become askew when he tumbled to the floor. He was dressed in some of the latest fashions, most of which hadn’t yet reached even San Francisco. His hat was still ensconced on his head.
“What kind of hat is that?” Virginia asked abruptly. She’d been wondering since she had first seen it, and the question just popped out.
He brightened up at her enquiry. “It’s a bowler, Miss Reed. All the finest Englishmen wear it.”
“Is that so?” she asked. She examined him. Though his clothes were stylish, they were somewhat tattered. A dandy, she thought. A dandy who spends what little money he has on clothing. It wasn’t reassuring, nor was his physical appearance.
Porter seemed to read her thoughts. “I know I don’t look like much, Miss. I’m five foot three inches tall, as I’m sure you’ll want to know. I’m nearing old age—I’m fifty years old—but I’m still vigorous. But despite my looks, I assure you, I know how to take care of myself. I’ve spent most of my life serving in armies in Europe, fighting for whoever needed me. I fought with the Duke of Wellington at Waterloo when I was but a lad. I’ve been serving in one army or another ever since.”
“You’re English?”
“No, miss. I’m American, like you. My father was a sailor. I barely knew him, but when I was thirteen, he came to me and asked if I’d like to sign on as a cabin boy. By the time we reached England, I knew that I never wanted to be a sailor again. I’m no good at it—as you saw yesterday, I can’t get my sea legs. So I stayed in England, mostly. I crossed to the Continent when I needed to, but I never wanted to cross the Atlantic again…until…”
“Until?” Virginia prompted.
“Until I met them. You of all people know of whom I speak.”
Virginia didn’t say anything, simply waited for him to continue.
“I got a letter from my father. He’d gone back to his family’s farm in Pennsylvania after his seafaring days. My sister and her children were living there. For the first time, I learned that I had three nephews and two nieces. Some wild creature was attacking them, and they didn’t know what to do.
“I made the long journey across the ocean, swearing it would be my last time on the water. I arrived to find that my sister and three nephews were dead. At first I suspected my father, who could be a right bastard when he was drinking, but he was a shriveled husk of a man, too frightened to leave the house. My two nieces were keeping the place up as best they could; little ten-year-old Sophie and fourteen-year-old Molly, who is a resourceful girl. Reminds me of you, actually.”
“Go on,” Virginia said.
“Whatever the beast was, it only attacked at night. So I went about setting a trap, certain of my abilities, for I had fought in many a battle. I am a hardened and seasoned soldier, but nothing prepared me for what came that night. I shot it point blank in the chest, and it didn’t even seem to feel it.”
Virginia broke in. “I’ve found that bullets will kill the bastards when you can hit them.”
Porter gave her a rueful grin. “As you have discovered, Miss Reed, there is more than one kind of creature out there. This was a were-animal, but not the kind you’re used to. It was some kind of hybrid, part man, part bear. Its fur was so thick that my bullet couldn’t penetrate it. But beneath that fur there was a beating heart, and my saber was sharp, and when I lunged at it, I got lucky, for it was charging at the same moment. The blade went straight to its heart, and the last thing I remember hearing was an awful roar.
“I awoke to Molly and Sophie trying to push the huge carcass off me. They succeeded enough to let me breathe, thankfully, or I wouldn’t be talking to you today. My arm was broken, but I was otherwise unharmed.
“I stayed with my nieces until Molly married a neighbor boy a couple of years later. My father died not long after. After that, I wasn’t welcome there—I was too strange for them, nor was I a farmer—so I set out to offer my services to whoever could pay me.
“I don’t know why, but each of my cases since has had a bit of the weird about them. The unnatural attracts me, I guess. In short, I know what you do, Miss Reed, and I’m impressed by your courage and abilities.”
By then, Virginia had sheathed her knife. She was pacing back and forth in front of the sofa, listening to the man’s story. It had the ring of truth.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” she said. “How did you come to find my father, and why did he hire you?”
“As to why, naturally, he’s worried, as is your husband.”
“Frank knows about this?”
“Yes. I’ve been keeping him up to date for some time now. In fact, as wealthy as your father is, my services aren’t cheap. I…uh…pointed out your stash of gold to your husband and told him how much of it I needed to do my job.”
Now it was Virginia’s turn to be impressed. If Porter had been following her for months and she hadn’t realized it, he was talented indeed.
“I heard about your experience in the mountains, Miss Reed. The moment I started reading accounts of the Donner Party, I knew that something else had happened, and that you were at the center of it.
“By the time I tracked down your father, you were off on one of your adventures. I didn’t find you until you returned to Sacramento and married Frank Whitford. I waited until you were gone on one of your mysterious trips before approaching your husband. He contacted your father, and between the two of them, I was hired.”
I’m going to kill them, Virginia thought. Both of them.
Then she felt a strange sense of relief. This man was a hired mercenary whom she wouldn’t need to feel guilty about leading into danger. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
Porter must have sensed her hesitation. “I will be following you with or without your permission, Miss Reed,” he said. “But it would be better if we worked together.”
She put her hand out. “If we are going to work together, call me Virginia.”
He took her hand, but at the same time, he was shaking his head. “No, miss. That is not how I do things. I work for you. I am not your friend: I am your bodyguard. A little formality will remind me of that. I am well aware of the danger. If it was only for gold, well…I’d probably take the money and run. But there is more to it than that. Just like you, I feel that I have a calling. I may not be a Cano…Cona…”
“Canowiki,” she said.
“Yeah, I may not be that, but serving you seems a good way to spend the rest of my life, however long I have left.”
“Very well, your services are accepted.” The moment she said the words, Virginia felt herself relax.
Porter stood up, a big grin on his rat-like face. “So…what beasties are we going after this time?”
***
They debarked in Portland, then caught the afternoon coach to Oregon City. Virginia was pleased to find that Angus—Mr. Porter, she reminded herself—was a quiet companion, only speaking when spoken to. There was something so comfortable about him that she couldn’t help but think of him as Angus. Sometimes she could almost forget he was there. He often stayed to one side, or behind her, and most of the time, if an observer didn’t know they were together, he or she might well not realize it.
It was a smart s
trategy. It would give them the element of surprise.
They found a coach outside the station, gave the driver directions to the Washington Hotel, and told the man to wait while they stored their luggage inside. Then they gave the coachman the address that Mary Perkins had given in her letter. It was getting dark out, and the man gave Angus and Virginia a suspicious look.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he said, addressing Angus and ignoring Virginia. “I won’t go into that part of town after dark.”
“Nonsense, good fellow,” Angus said. He pulled a twenty-dollar gold coin out of his pocket, more money than the man probably earned in a month. “We’ll make it worth your while.”
“Can’t spend it if I’m dead,” the man said. “I’ll take you to the street, but no farther.”
“Carry on,” Angus said, slapping the side of the coach.
The coach set off toward the wharf. Angus sat back and closed his eyes, and Virginia was certain that he fell asleep during the twenty-minute journey, despite the intense rattling of the wheels on cobblestones.
When they finally stopped, it was completely dark. Virginia peered out. There were houses and other buildings on the street, but none of them had their lamps on except for one building at the very end, right where the street made a sharp turn. It was brightly lit. There was the distant sound of laughter and music.
“That’s the place you’re looking for,” the coachman said. He looked from Angus to Virginia and back again. “If your companion is a lady, she won’t want to be going there. If she’s not a lady, she should still stay away. It’s the last stop for their kind, and your friend is still much too pretty.”
“The lady is not ‘mine,’ and she is indeed a lady,” Angus said, handing the coachman the promised gold piece.
“No offense, sir,” the man said, snatching the coin as if he was afraid it would be withdrawn. He tipped his hat. “I could wait a few minutes.”
“We won’t need you,” Angus said. “Take your gold piece and be gone with your insults.”
The Darkness You Fear Page 5
