Angelica (27 page)

Miriam had her arms wrapped around her knees and was rocking back and forth as if to generate heat. Susannah shook out a little embroidered blanket and threw it around the girl's shoulders.

“I think someone's dead,” Miriam said at last.

“What?”
Susannah hissed. “Miriam, you cannot be serious.”

Miriam nodded. “I am, though. I think it's my fault, but, Susannah, I didn't mean for it to happen. It didn't occur to me—I was just—and then things got out of hand—”

“Start from the beginning,” Susannah said. “What happened?”

“I was in Velora. I asked Ahio to take me down in the morning, and he did, but he said he couldn't come back and get me, and I said that was fine. And I did some shopping and I had some lunch, and then in the evening I went to see Elias, even though I knew I shouldn't.”

“Who's Elias?”

Miriam shrugged. “This man. He runs a freighting business. He's really nice and he has a lot of money and he doesn't lecture me all the time. I just like to be around him. But I've only see him once or twice because his wife usually doesn't—”

“His wife? He's married?”

“Yes. But he doesn't love her. And his daughters are almost old enough to get married themselves, so he—”

“Wait. How old is he?”

“I don't know. Fifty, maybe. But he—”

“Miriam are you—have you been—”

“Yes,” Miriam said defiantly. “I have been. And it's not like he's the first man I've been with. First man
or
angel. Don't be so shocked. I'm nineteen years old!”

Susannah took a deep breath. She was so stunned by this revelation that for a moment she lost sight of the first, more horrific confession. “I was not that young myself, but many girls are, I know. But, Miriam, you've been seeing a married man who's thirty years older than you are and has children in the house—there is so much wrong with that. Do you know how hurtful that is to everyone involved—the wife, the children, yourself? Do you know what a knife you are wielding, and how many scars you are making?”

“I do now,” Miriam whispered. “But they're not the kind of scars you're talking about.”

“So what happened?”

“I went to see Elias. He told me his wife would be gone all week. She had taken their daughters and gone somewhere. Castelana, maybe. One of the river cities. She wasn't supposed to be back yet.”

“And she came home . . .”

Miriam nodded. “And she came home, and she saw me,
and she started screaming at him. The girls ran out of the house, I don't know where they went, and I tried to back out of the room. They weren't paying any attention to me. She was screaming and screaming, and he was angry, too, but he was calmer than she was, and I just thought it was going to be a lot of shouting. And then—I don't know—she had a knife in her hand and she stabbed him. And he started bleeding and he stopped shouting and he just looked at her. And then he crumpled over onto the floor and—and he didn't say anything else.”

“What did she do?”

“She started shrieking again, kneeling on the floor by him and calling out his name.”

“What did you do?”

Miriam shook her head. Her eyes were wide and haunted. They flicked all around the room, as she looked at the walls, the furniture, the sleeping girl, anywhere but at Susannah. “I just left.”

“Did you tell anyone?”

Miriam shook her head again. “I just ran out in the street. Back toward the bazaar, where I knew people would be. I didn't even think any angels would be out that late, but then I saw Enoch and he said he'd bring me back. Lectured me the whole way, too, but I didn't tell him anything.”

“So you left a dying man and a hysterical woman all alone in a house and ran away?” Susannah repeated. “Without going for help, without doing
anything
?”

Miriam started crying. “I was afraid,” she sobbed. “It was my fault and I was so afraid. I didn't know what to do.”

“It's not your fault. You didn't drive the knife home,” Susannah said steadily. “But you should have gone for help. You are to blame for making a bad situation disastrous. You are to blame for a lot.”

Miriam sobbed even harder. “Don't tell Gaaron,” she begged. “Please. He'll never forgive me.”

Susannah rose to her feet. She had never felt more wretched for someone else—or more steely with resolve. “I have to,” she said. “I'm going to tell him right now.”

When Gaaron opened his door—tousled, yawning, and dull with sleep—Susannah couldn't stop a stray, totally frivolous thought from crossing her mind.
What would it be like to sleep next to that big, warm body?
All he was wearing was a pair of loose cotton pants that appeared to have been hastily pulled on once the door chime sounded. Never had his chest appeared so broad or his wings so spectacular. For just a moment, Susannah wanted to step close enough to lay her head upon his shoulder, feel those cool, edged feathers settle around her; for just a moment, she wanted to surrender her own strength to someone who was clearly designed to carry burdens.

When he recognized her, his expression instantly sharpened to combat readiness. “Susannah!” he exclaimed. “What—is it Miriam?”

She nodded and stepped inside, pushing the door closed behind her. She did not know how far word of this escapade would spread; a little privacy now might save embarrassment later. It was late, but others were still astir. Even now, three voices rose and fell in a sweet melody from two stories up. Who else might be prowling about, looking for trouble?

“She's been seeing a married man in Velora,” Susannah started out baldly. “Tonight, his wife came home and found them together. There was a scene. The wife pulled a blade and attacked her husband. Miriam left, but she thinks he might be dead.”

With each sentence she spoke, Gaaron's face grew harder, more stony. “She didn't stop to send for help?”

“No.”

“How did she get back?”

“Enoch, but she didn't tell him what happened.”

“Does this man—his wife—do any of them know who she is?”

“I didn't ask her. She often tells people she is your sister—but possibly only people she wants to keep at a distance. You understand. If she wanted to spend time with this man—”

“She might keep her identity a secret.”

Susannah nodded. “I don't know what we should do.”

“How long ago did it happen?”

“I would guess within the hour.”

He nodded. “Are you dressed to leave?”

She glanced down at the clothes she was wearing, as if, in five minutes, she had forgotten what she had put on. A skirt, a blouse that did not match it, a pair of slippers. She had dressed hastily while Miriam begged her please not to go to Gaaron now,
please
, and all she had thought about was modesty enough to navigate the hallways. She had not planned to travel.

“I could go as I am,” she said.

“I'll be right out.”

Ten minutes later they were on their way to Velora. Summer was finally over, and crisp autumn had marched in to snap some color and energy back into their days. The night was chilly, and even the short flight generated enough wind to leave Susannah's face and fingers red.

“How will we know where to find this man?” Susannah called to Gaaron as he coasted down, skimming over the rooftops and awnings of the city.

“Not that many murders in Velora,” was his sardonic response. “There should still be a commotion at the house. And if he's a merchant, he should live in this part of town.”

He proved to be right on both counts. On their first pass over the northwestern quadrant of the little city, they spotted a crowd of people gathered outside an attractive two-story house. Torches had been stuck in the grass strips lining the avenue, and gaslight inside the house poured out from every window.

“What are you going to say?” Susannah whispered as he glided to a stop, setting her gently on her feet.

“It depends on what they say to me,” he answered. “We should know fairly quickly how the situation stands.”

He strode forward, Susannah falling a little behind, still wondering how he would explain his sudden presence in the middle of catastrophe. But she had forgotten: He was not merely Miriam's brother, but leader of the host at the Eyrie, soon to be Archangel. Not only did everyone recognize him, they expected him to appear at crisis points, to take matters into his own hands, and to solve them. He had not even
gotten through the courtyard into the front door before people accosted him.

“Angelo! Have you heard? We've had a tragedy here.”

“Angelo! Come quickly! They'll want to see you.”

“Gaaron—good. I did not dare hope you would still be abroad this late at night. We've got a nasty situation inside.”

“What happened?” Gaaron asked briskly, turning to the last speaker. He seemed to be some kind of dignitary—a city official, Susannah guessed, or a member of the merchant's council.

The official spread his hands. He was small and dapper—though not, perhaps, as well-groomed as he might be in the middle of the day under less dramatic circumstances—and his tangled gray hair looked as though he hadn't had a chance to comb it before running out into the night. “A domestic problem. Elias—and may Jovah strike me dead if I do not say I would never have expected it from such a steady man—appeared to be seeing a young woman. You know Elias Shapping?”

Gaaron nodded. “Know of him. Good man.”

“So we all thought. And who knows what happens inside a house that makes a man look for comfort outside of it? Even so, I would not have thought . . . At any rate, this young woman was here tonight. Myra and the girls were gone to Castelana for the week. But they returned earlier than expected, and there was a fight. Myra—it seems she was carrying a weapon. She admits she grew blind with rage and attacked Elias. She says she had no intent to—to—well . . . He is dead, and that was not what she wanted. She is hysterical, but there are women with her now. I think they've given her something to keep her calm.”

Three other men had gathered around Gaaron as the official's speech unfolded. These were additional councilmen, Susannah supposed, the ruling caste of the small, prosperous city. They would be the ones to mete out punishment and decide the woman's fate.

These four—and Gaaron. She kept forgetting that everyone turned to him for justice.

“What is the family's situation?” Gaaron asked, as if that was all he cared about, as if he hadn't come dashing down
here to ask about the one participant in this little drama who was both guilty and missing. “Was Shapping in business for himself? Did he have partners? Are there brothers or parents who have a share in the company?”

“Myra ran the company with him,” piped up one of the other councilmen. “Good head for business, too. Sharp lady.” He shook his head, thinking of how a sharp lady might grow dull and stupid.

“There's a brother in Castelana,” one of the others said. “I don't think he's got a stake in the business, though. It was all run by Elias and Myra.”

“Children?” Gaaron asked.

“Two girls. Fifteen and seventeen. This scandal won't do them any good.”

“We'll have to convene a council to review the case, but, angelo, I don't think she's all that much at fault,” the gray-haired man said. “A moment of blind passion, when she sees her husband in the arms of another woman—and who can blame her? My own wife, the sweetest-tempered woman I hope to ever meet, I think she would cleave my skull with an ax if she ever thought I had betrayed her that way.”

There was a murmur of assent from his fellow council members. Susannah spared a moment to look around and try to assess the others who were present. Maybe a dozen people lingered still in the courtyard, gossiping in groups of two or three. These appeared to be neighbors or passersby who had no information to offer but who were so hopeful of further developments they could not tear themselves from the scene. Inside the house, she could see shapes flickering past the curtained windows—the daughters, she supposed, and any healers who might have been called to treat the dying man or his frantic wife. Perhaps by now the morticians had been called in as well.

Gaaron's voice brought her attention back abruptly to the small circle of men and avenging angel. “What do we know about this woman?” he asked. “The one who was here tonight?”

The councilmen looked at one another and shook their heads. “Nothing. One of the neighbor women said she was
young and blond, but I don't think Myra got a very good look at her.”

“Do we know her name?” Gaaron persisted.

Susannah held her breath, but the men shook their heads again.

“No.”

“Angelo, I didn't even know there
was
a girl, I certainly didn't know a name.”