Bride of the Night (13 page)

“Take care. There may be more,” Finn warned. He motioned to Tara, and they moved forward to look into the second officers' quarters. The man there was just beginning to rise. Finn strode over to him quickly.

The man's eyes had bulged open. He looked at Finn and started to jerk up, a cry of rage emitting from him, fangs all but bursting from his lips. Finn skewered him in the heart with his sword, withdrew the blade, stood back and slashed off the head. It rolled off the cot and onto the floor. There wasn't much blood—just the head, with eyes open, staring. Finn thought wearily that he had seen this sight too many times.

He turned. Tara was standing in the doorway, watching. There was both horror and pity in her eyes. “Is there never any hope?” she asked.

“Sometimes, if it's stopped,” he told her briefly. He wanted to walk to her, hold her and shield her from the
sight. It was what men did for women. But he could not; in truth, they were still enemies.

And she would not want comfort from him.

“You're done, you bloody bastard!” they heard from the corridor.

Hurrying from the second of the officers' quarters, they discovered that Grissom had found a man returning with thirst, and dispatched him—it appeared he had taken several blows with his sword to do so.

“How many more, do you think?” London asked, leaning hard by one of the swinging hammocks that made cots for the seamen.

“Not many—there can't be,” Grissom said. “This ship wouldn't have had more than twenty or twenty-two men aboard. We killed twelve last night.”

Twelve, two found dead on the island and four on the ship.

“Then we still have to account for more men,” Finn said.

“There shouldn't have been anyone down at the cannons—the ship wasn't attacking,” London said. “Or…maybe it was… Someone had to get aboard with the disease to do this.”

“We'll finish here, and head down again. God knows, maybe someone ran down to the ballast hold,” Finn said.

He led the way as they headed down again. Among the heavy cargo, including bricks, salt, sugar, rum and gunpowder, they found two more men.

There was little need to do much. They had been
ripped to shreds, and their throats had been so violated the heads were hanging on by a string. Finn ordered Grissom and London to deal with the bodies; he told Tara that they needed to head topside.

Richard, he reasoned, would be the best man to lead the wounded ship closer to the island where they could anchor, and make repairs in the morning.

He could have dealt with the bodies himself; despite her adeptness when dealing with the frenzied creatures as they came back to life, Finn couldn't help but want to protect Tara from the horror of such gruesome things.

He ushered her topside where Richard Anderson was keeping watch with Charles Lafferty. “Can you navigate her closer, Richard, and avoid the reefs?” he asked.

“That I can,” Richard assured him. “The mains mast is cracked at the top, but we can unfurl the mizzenmast and bring up the main sail as much as possible. She's a steamer, too, if someone can fire her up.”

“I'll get the steam going. Are we safe now?” Lafferty asked Finn.

“Aye. We're set to go. Grissom and London will see to it.”

As he spoke, the men came up the steps to the deck, carrying grisly cargo. Again, Finn wanted to shield Tara; he could not. They walked by, the bodies wrapped in sheeting, but Tara was still watching, and her face was white.

Richard looked at Finn for a moment, and then passed by him, going to Tara. He took her in his arms.

Finn gritted his teeth, hating the fact that he longed to do the same.

“Grissom and London, see to her steam power. Richard, get her through the reefs, and we'll bring her in close enough to make use of her tomorrow.”

 

T
HERE WAS A CHEER
when they brought the Union ship in. Her name was actually
USS Freedom,
something Tara hadn't noticed upon their initial approach. Richard brought her safely to anchor beyond the reefs and to the sandbar that created such shallow passage at the beachhead and then took the longboat to shore.

Finn, of course, announced the situation they had discovered on board, and since it was getting dark again, plans were made to make the ship seaworthy for a longer voyage the next morning.

Tara noted that Dr. MacKay drew Finn aside quickly when they arrived, and that Finn listened to him gravely. She realized that they came to a conclusion, and that MacKay immediately went to work on something that he found in his doctor's bag of tourniquets, needles and syringes.

She approached Finn, wanting to know what was going on.

He looked at her and hesitated. “The captain is dying. And if he dies, he will change.”

“We—we can't let him die,” she said, shaking her head and looking into Finn's eyes. She almost took a step away from him; there was something in his steeled composure that made her tremble, and she realized that
the world was incredibly strange. Just days ago, they had fought a sea battle, and the captain and Finn and all these men might have died—and to her, it would have just been the course of war. Survival against the enemy. But now, so quickly, the captain had grown dear to her.

And Finn had become a strange ally in a world she had experienced only on her own until now. She felt safe in his presence. She listened to the sound of his voice, and it washed over her, and touched her, just as that power in his eyes did. He was extraordinarily attractive, with his lean muscled build, and she found herself thinking about the shimmer of water on his naked bronzed shoulders and chest when they had dived. She wanted so badly to touch him, to be close to him. She realized that she fantasized about lying beside him, and allowing her fingers to play over his flesh. He knew what she was; he respected her abilities, and he understood her weaknesses, and somehow there was a balance there that made her not just feel that fluttering, that warm attraction, but admiration, as well. God forbid…she was fascinated with the man. She
liked
him.

But though he was now an odd ally, he was still the enemy.

Looking at her, Finn sighed deeply. “I can help,” he told her quietly. “How?”

“Blood transfusion.”

“Blood
transfusion?
I've never heard of such a thing,” Tara said, realizing that Finn's presence kept
her from being horrified or afraid. No, she was just puzzled.

“Giving blood from one person to another. Actually, the first reported successful attempt from one human being to another was in 1818, and, no, it isn't common. But doctors
have
saved a few men in the Union army after amputations with such a procedure.”

“How is it accomplished?” she asked.

“Dr. MacKay will certainly be better at the particulars than I am, but…quills are used to pierce the veins, and tubing, such as that used by embalmers. Dr. MacKay may well have what we need—the practice of embalming soldiers, when possible, has become more popular lately,” Finn said. “I intend to give him some of my blood as it will fight against the infection. But…giving blood will weaken me, so you must be prepared to combat anything that might come by night.”

She smiled at him. “I'm ready to stand in combat when our lives are threatened as they have been, but that's ridiculous. You are far more aware of what may come and how, and though I pride myself on being a quick learner, it's far more important that you maintain your strength.”

“I can't really ask this of you.”

“You're not asking. I'm volunteering.”

 

H
E WAS STRUCK AGAIN
, as he was far too often, by her beauty. Oval face, hazel eyes and red hair, now streaming down her back like in the rich shades of the sunset all around them. Her mouth was generous, and he
longed to run his thumb along her lips, and he had to catch himself from such thoughts again. They were speaking about the captain's life, and of transfusion, which had rarely been done.

But he had a feeling that even if MacKay did not have actual experience in the procedure himself he would do his best in faith.

Finn held still, feeling as if every muscle in his body tensed. He could feel his jaw lock. He didn't want to put this on her.

But it was true.

His strength was the more necessary. They didn't know if they had faced the end of the monster enemy or not.

“You know that it's the right thing to do, letting me be the donor,” she said softly.

He still hesitated. Then he nodded slowly and spoke quietly. “All right. I don't like it, though, you know.”

“I know. But it's the most logical solution,” she told him. “Besides, in a short time, the captain has grown dear to me.”

Ah, if he could but hear such words from her about himself!

“Let's see MacKay,” he told her.

Together, they went to where MacKay still kept careful watch over the captain. When Finn looked at him, he shook his head.

“I fear that the end is near,” MacKay mouthed to him.

“No, please, I need you to listen to me, and do the
best patient care you have ever done, for both patients,” Finn said.

“Both patients?” MacKay said, frowning.

Finn explained that he'd seen blood transfusions before, and that Tara was young, and willing. Tara stood by his side, smiling. MacKay looked at her and said, “I've never performed such an operation before.”

“But I have infinite faith in you,” Tara told him.

“It's the only way to save the captain,” Finn said flatly.

MacKay nodded slowly. “I have the equipment you mentioned.”

“Then let's get to it. Before the situation becomes too dire,” Finn said.

And so they began. Both MacKay and Tara listened as he gave instruction. MacKay was fine with Captain Tremblay, since Tremblay was unconscious; with Tara, MacKay seemed more worried.

“It's all right,” Tara assured him.

MacKay looked at her a long time. Again, Finn had the feeling that MacKay knew much more than he would admit to.

“All right,” he said.

Finn was surprised that it was Richard—among all the men there—that he called upon for help.

But, although they had begun this situation with a sea battle with Richard Anderson, he was the man he trusted most for assistance. Richard ordered Billy to
start the men on mess, and Lafferty, London and Grissom were eager to get the evening meal going.

MacKay, as instructed, brought out clean quills. A pallet was set above the captain for Tara, and MacKay dug in his medical bag for the necessary tubing.

Tara winced slightly as the quill was stuck into her vein. She relaxed, though, as she saw her blood running through the tube and into the captain's veins.

Finn kept watch on the procedure.

And on the night.

But it seemed that they would be left in peace for the moment.

He scanned the sky, and he made sure that men were on watch.

The night wore on as the captain began to gain color again, and it appeared that he would live. Just as Tara was feeling the strain in earnest, the procedure was finished.

Tara was tired. Finn ordered her to lie on her pallet, and she smiled and did so. He lay next to her and asked anxiously, “You feel…all right?”

“Weak,” she told him. “But I will be fine.”

“And, I believe, the captain will live.”

Her smile deepened. “He is a good man,” she said. But then, her eyes continued to gaze into his. And she said, “You know something about my family. Please, tell me what you know. And you…how are you—what you are? I've been so far away from everything. Tell me, please?”

He paused, but her hazel eyes were on his. And there was no reason not to tell her what he knew.

“You have a brother,” he said. “And your brother is a doctor. His name is Cody.”

“I have a brother,” she said with awe. “And his name is Cody. And he's a doctor!”

“And you have a sister,” he said. “Her name is Megan.”

“You know them?” she asked hopefully, feeling reenergized momentarily.

He shook his head. “I know
of
them,” he said.

“How?” she whispered.

“Because they are the ones who quelled the rising in Harpers Ferry,” he told her. “I was assigned elsewhere at the time, but when it was over, I heard about all that happened.”

“I have a brother, and a sister!” She marveled. “So, of course, I'm assuming, they are children of my father.”

“Yes.”

“What about you?” she asked. She lay on her pallet, sunset hair spread beneath her, marbled and brilliant hazel eyes upon him. “Where do you come from?”

G
RISSOM
, L
ONDON
, L
AFFERTY
and Richard were on watch. They had all exhibited a heightened sense of awareness since the night before, so Finn decided that he could dare ease off and trust in the intelligence of the others. Captain Tremblay was still falling in and out of sleep, gathering new strength, but in the morning, he'd be better off than when the night had begun. MacKay was watching him, and the world around them. Finn eased down to lie on an elbow as he spoke to Tara resting on her pallet.

“I can tell you something about you, first,” Finn said, smiling at her. “Your brother was a Southern physician. He was almost killed, but he revived. I think people considered it something of a miracle. He was practicing medicine in New Orleans when an old general asked for his help out in Texas—where he'd been born. He went out there, became friends with the general and a sheriff, and they all came east when things started going awry in the Harpers Ferry area. That's about when he first met his sister, Megan.” He smiled slightly. “I've wanted to meet Cody and Megan Fox, but circumstances haven't allowed for it. So, this is the story as I know it, and I
believe it to be true. Your grandfather was taken and killed, but he didn't die, he changed. And there have been those who had seen him around the country ever since. When I heard your name, I told myself there were plenty of Foxes in the world, but then I'd realized your ability to disappear at will, and I had a pretty good feeling I knew exactly who you were.”

“My father never married my mother,” Tara told him. “But he did insist that I have his name, said it would be important in the future…?. Will I be able to meet them? Are they friends with each other? Were they… Are their hearts with the North or the South?”

“Now? Neither. Like most of us, they see the travesty. Half the country is stripped and beaten. Great cities are burned-out ruins. They want the war over,” Finn said.

“How do you know so much about them if you haven't met them?” Tara asked.

He smiled. “As I said, we keep missing one another. But we've been called to serve the same leader.”

“And that is?”

“Lincoln.”

She rolled on an elbow to face him as he spoke. The firelight burned gently over her face and hair, casting a glow of beauty on each. Her eyes were such an unusual hazel—although, among their kind, hazel was not a rare color. Still, hers seem to radiate in so many shades and hues.

“I wish I knew a way to make you believe. My passion has been to reach Abraham Lincoln, yes, but not to
hurt him. There's something in my mind that's so real, I believe he has to know of it. I feel that he's spoken with me. And I keep trying to warn him that he has to be careful. I have this urge to be near him, so that I might cast myself between him and any danger,” she told him. “Don't you see?” she asked urgently. “Most of us see that Atlanta was destroyed, and that Savannah had no hope but to surrender. Soon, there will be no young men in the South—they'll all be dead on the altar of sacrifice they once so nobly thought of as ‘the cause.'”

She paused. “Finn, most thinking people in the South are bitter, and they know that the punishment the South will experience will be severe when this is all done. I know that you fear for Lincoln's life constantly—honestly, I do, too.”

She was so earnest. He wanted to believe her.

Or forget the war. The endless years of bloodshed. The men who walked every city on crutches now, minus a leg, or with a pinned sleeve where a healthy arm should have been. There would always be monsters in the world, and when he had chosen to become a Pinkerton agent, he'd known he'd seek out monsters. But a war where families killed families, where sons died on their father's land, where brothers might die in one another's arms, went beyond all cruelty in the human mind.

He was startled when she reached out and touched him, her fingers just brushing his cheek.

She flushed. “I'm sorry—you seemed a million miles away for a moment,” she told him.

A million miles away, and yet, I sense you here so acutely that it's painful, and still so seductive that I don't want to be anywhere else in the world.

“No, I'm here. I was just thinking about the war,” he said.

“What about you?” she asked him.

“Pardon?”

“You. You are a half-breed, right?” She smiled as she asked the question.

He nodded. “My father was taken in an Indian fray in Illinois. My mother was determined to save his life. Through him, I was born with vampire blood, which is, of course, the same way you became this way. My mother did save my dad—thankfully, since that's why I am here now. Years later, however, they were both killed by a rogue band of vampires. I was a boy at the time. Later, I was introduced to Allan Pinkerton. He started off as a detective in Chicago when he was being fleeced and cheated. He began to grow the agency, and with the war, many of us were brought on to protect the president—and ferret out those who were trying to kill him. And, of course, as you can imagine, I am determined to fight those who make monsters of us all.”

“Of course. How—how did they manage to kill your father?” she asked.

He looked away. He could still visualize the day as he told her the story. His father had become a champion of the people, protecting against any danger, including outlaws, murderers and thieves—those who preyed upon
the farmers and ranchers on the frontier. When the vampires had descended upon their town, Andre Dunne had led the men out to meet them, and he'd brought them down, including their leader. But in his pitched sword battle with the leader, he'd lost his own life. Finn had been there to take part in the battle, even at the age of twelve. And when his father had lain dying, he had sent him back to care for his mother. Except that when he reached their house, he found that she had been murdered, probably before the battle had even begun. His rage and pain had nearly killed him—and almost set him upon a path of nothing but murder. But his uncle had arrived, and told him he'd die himself if he didn't learn control—and his own power. And that he needed to head into a field of higher learning so that he could best understand the world, and all the dangers within it. And so, he had gone with his uncle to grow up in Chicago, and there he had met Pinkerton, and first heard of Abraham Lincoln.

“I'm so sorry, Finn,” she said softly. Again, the tone of her voice was sincere. Her hazel eyes gazed upon him with glittering compassion.

“It was a long time ago now,” he told her.

“You knew them both. You obviously loved them. I believe that my father is out there somewhere. I hope that I can find him and meet him. My mother believed in him. She understood that he needed to keep moving on. She said that their time together was brief, but that she'd have rather been with him for a short time than
with any other man for a lifetime. She loved him very much. And, of course, we were in Key West. Not that there aren't those there who believe themselves to be the height of society, but still…” She smiled. “We are isolated, and we have a population from all over the Caribbean, so it's easier to live and let live.”

“And here we are,” Finn murmured.

He lay back on the pallet. It was so good to be close to her. To rest. And yet, they weren't out of danger. They still didn't know exactly where the danger to the island had begun. A rogue vampire aboard the Union ship when it had left Key West? Or something out on the water?

And there was still the matter of discovering the identity of Gator.

He turned to look at Tara again, but her eyes had closed. She was sleeping. It was the sleep of one who needed the healing of time.

He rose and walked over to Captain Tremblay's pallet. Dr. MacKay sat at the captain's side, honing his sword.

“How is he doing?” Finn asked.

MacKay nodded. “Well. His color is returning, his pulse is strong. He has made a complete turnabout.”

Finn walked out back, where Richard and Billy were keeping watch by the fire. All seemed quiet. Richard asked him, “Tara?”

“She is fine, sleeping,” Finn told him.

Richard nodded.

Finn headed out to the front of the camp, and saw that Grissom and Lafferty were keeping watch on the sea.

“Anything?” Finn asked.

“The night is quiet,” Lafferty told him.

He returned to the pallet next to Tara's. He eased himself down, and knew that he was exhausted, too. He had to trust in the others for a few hours. Feeling the heat of her body so close to his, he basked in the warmth, and slept.

 

T
HE STRANGE VISION CAME
to Tara again that night.

She should have thought of it as a dream, but it wasn't a dream. It was as if a part of her traveled, and was, in truth, walking the corridors of the White House.

She stood in the room. Lincoln was at his desk. He looked up and smiled at her. “Welcome, my dear.”

“It's good to see you, sir,” she told him.

He was working with a number of papers on his desk. “I take heart. I still watch the casualty lists come in daily. But now I am working on my second inaugural address.” He hesitated, looking at her. “I fear for my dear Mary. She had another séance in the Red Room last night. She feels the pain of fighting her own family so deeply. And she cannot bear the loss of our Willie…so many thoughts and dilemmas weigh down upon us all. And, of course, you are here to warn me again that I must take care of myself.”

“You are needed.”

He smiled. “It is good of you to say so. I have such
strange dreams. Of course, this is one of them, because here you are, and yet, you are not. I don't know you, but I feel that I will.”

“Yes, I want to be near you, sir. I want to protect you.”

He smiled. “Now, girl, a slender beauty such as yourself, longing to protect a worn-out man who has aged twenty years in four. You give me faith, and that is something that I have fought to maintain throughout the hard and bitter years. I will see you soon?”

“God willing,” Tara assured him.

She felt as if she was drawn backward through a field of mist.

And then she was on her pallet on the little island.

She blinked, awakening slowly. She could hear birds chirping. Beyond the tarp, she could see palm fronds gently weaving in the breeze.

She turned to her right, and smiled. Richard, ever faithful, was beside her.

She turned to her left and flushed; she had been sleeping curled against Finn's back. She moved quickly, which startled him; he grabbed her arm suddenly as he looked at her.

“I'm sorry!” she whispered.

He flushed, as well. “No, no, I'm sorry. I don't usually sleep so deeply.”

He rose then, and she followed him. He walked out to the beach and looked out to the sea; the ship still awaited them.

Tremblay was up; he was staring out at the ship with a spyglass.

“Time to get moving, eh?” Tremblay asked Finn. “We've gotten the enemy off the ship, so I've been told?”

“So we believe, but this morning we'll again take care,” Finn said.

“Aye, as you say. So, I shall have you move out with the same men who have now learned the most. We'll get pulleys and levers going to reload, and our ship's carpenter instructing us all as to repairing the broken mast. It's time, indeed, that we head out!”

“Apparently, sir, you are feeling chipper this morning?” Finn asked.

Tremblay smiled. “Thanks to you all,” he said. He looked at Tara with the affection a man would show a daughter. “Thanks to
you,
so Dr. MacKay tells me. Child, you've saved my life. I am in your debt.”

Tara dropped a little curtsy to him. “Captain, it was my pleasure.”

“And you have suffered no ill effects?” he asked her.

“None whatsoever, sir. Despite our situation last night, I slept deeply.”

“Well, good, then,” Tremblay said. “I must say, it's like magic! I feel far more hale and hearty than I have in years. So, onward to the day's work. We'll fix our meal, and get moving. That mast will take most of the day, and I'm grateful most of my men are like monkeys.
We'll head north, Agent Dunne, and get you where you need to be.”

Finn hesitated. “We can't head north, not directly,” he said. “A few of these men must return to Fort Zachary Taylor. Someone must be there to warn the people of Key West, and to see that they're armed against those inflicted with the disease. I believe we've got the majority of the poor souls, but we don't know how the infection came about.”

“Ah, that's a grave situation, Agent Dunne,” Tremblay said. “The men at the fort will not take kindly to the citizens with their Southern sympathies being heavily armed.”

“If you describe the situation—you and Lafferty, Captain—the people will believe you,” Finn said.

Tara spoke up. “The people on the island are not going to rise up and kill the soldiers. Perhaps once…” she said, her voice trailing away. “Sir, you can't let this infection get to Key West.”

Tremblay rubbed his cheek and looked at Finn. “Aye, it will but cost us another day.”

“A meal—and on to the ship,” Finn said.

He took Tara's arm, leading her over to the fire. There was oatmeal; she was touched to see that the men had prepared hers with care, dexterously making sure no bugs had come to rest in the portion being offered her. She drank coffee, talking with Billy. The captain had announced to the men that they had to go back to
Key West and Billy was relieved. “I've so many friends there. They are completely unprepared.”

Tara thought about Seminole Pete. “Seminole Pete will know if there's a strange shift in the wind—the arrival of something that isn't quite human.”

“How will he know—until after half the island is consumed?” Billy asked.