Bride of the Night (14 page)

Tara shook her head. “He just knows things. There is no explanation.”

She saw that Finn was beckoning to her. “I believe I'm with the crew to head back to the ship first,” she told Billy.

“You should not be,” he muttered, looking at Finn.

“Don't worry, Billy,” she told him. “I grew up with Seminole Pete, remember? Some of his instincts rubbed off on me!”

She left the young sailor looking after her, and hurried to catch up with Finn, Richard, Lafferty, Grissom and London. They headed to the ship, where it was much easier to board, as they had left the ladder down last night. They repeated the efforts they had gone through the morning before, and after a thorough search of the ship, they found no bodies—alive, dead or in between.

From the deck, Finn shot off a flare, letting the others know that they could begin the laborious duty of returning their goods to the ship and breaking down the camp. The remaining longboats began their journey out beyond the reefs to the ship at anchor, and pulleys and
winches were set and the boarding began. Billy seemed pleased as he came aboard, having collected a large supply of coconuts. He grinned and told her, “Since I came to Florida, I discovered the sweet meat of the coconut. Delicious. And add some of the milk with lime to your portion of rum, and it's quite a treat.”

Lafferty, hauling the coconuts up, laughed. “Ah, well, our pretty girlie drink for our young lady, Billy Seabold. A man takes his rum as he takes his rum,” he said.

“Well, the lime does a lot to stop the scurvy,” Dr. MacKay said. “It's just a seaman's rum punch with a bit of greater sweetness. I'll be happy to try one, Billy.”

As the day went on, Tara discovered that she could be the greatest help by shimmying up the mast with London, who was the ship's carpenter. London was adept with wood and nails, and she was quite comfortable with heights. In a matter of hours, he'd repaired the masts enough to set sail if the steam failed them, though London had also repaired the steam engine before they'd even begun their work on the sails and masts.

The work went on throughout the day. And finally, just as the sun lowered in the sky, the crew let out a cry of pleasure and triumph; they were ready to weigh anchor. The night had picked up a steady breeze, and Tremblay decided to combine his sail and his steam power; it would take them a night to return to Key West. There, they would likely be assigned another ship, as this one needed yet greater repairs.

As they left the island behind, Tara stood at the bow,
watching. She felt Finn's presence as he came up to stand beside her. For several long moments, they stood in silence.

“I never thought that everything I felt and knew about my own life could change in a matter of days on an island,” she said at last.

He was quiet.

She turned to look at him. “And despite the fact that I've basically been slaying real dragons with you, Agent Dunne, you're going to take me back to Washington. I'm still under arrest, and I'll go to trial. Richard, as well.”

He didn't answer right away. She was surprised when he did. “How do we even really know what's in the heart or mind of someone else? There are many out there who believe that killing Abraham Lincoln would make them a hero. There are Northern widows, fatherless children and others who despise him. He has political opponents who believe we should have let the South go. But,” he said, turning to stare at her, “I must say that over the past few days I've come to believe that neither you nor Richard would kill a man in cold blood. But the point is, somewhere in your mind, you must know something, Richard must know something. You're both Southern patriots—haven't you heard anything?”

“I don't know anything about this Gator,” she said.

“We have a man who was arrested at the capital. He was lurking around the White House, and when a soldier called to him, he ran. Once captured, he was found to have a correspondence from Gator, who meant to
get arms to the north of the state of Florida, and then travel on to the North to gain access to weapons.
Sic simper tyrannis
—‘thus always to tyrants.' The threat to the president is clear, and since the one man was captured essentially watching the president for his schedule and habits, it's taken as a very real threat.” He hesitated. “Blockade runners don't often run with arms— Richard's ship was armed.”

There was no argument for that. “Richard is not an assassin,” she said. “And I am not, either. And most of the blockade runners out of our area have been captured—and many have been killed. I honestly don't know who this person might be.”

“They were definitely coming out of Key West,” he said.

Tara leaned over the hull and felt the wind blowing through her hair. She turned and looked at him. “Have you ever considered the possibility that it's not a Rebel or a Confederate sympathizer that wants to kill Lincoln? We were on that island together—I know that even given a certain amount of freedom, you were watching Richard and me all the while. Whatever happened on that island was perpetuated by someone else.”

“We both know that the island was attacked by a vampire, yes,” he said.

“And maybe your Gator is a vampire. You had no trouble suspecting
me.
And, as you said, we both know what I am.”

He was quiet. He turned away, leaning against the
rail. “It might have been the old monster, the one who nearly killed you. Yes, I gave that some thought.”

“Then, in your heart, you know that we're not guilty.”

“I still have to take you to D.C.,” he said quietly.

She let out a breath of frustration, and she was surprised when he caught her by the shoulders, turning her to face him. “Don't you see? Blockaders caught ultimately go to a prisoner-of-war camp. Usually, they are not dealt with harshly, Tara.”

“What do you know about the prisoner-of-war camps?” she asked him.

“They're better in the North than in the South. When a government can't feed its troops, it can't feed its prisoners, and the North still has a solid supply mechanism in place. But here's what you don't understand—Richard fired on us. He brought down a federal ship. The punishment could be…well, much worse. He's not a soldier, is he?”

“No,” she said.

He was still holding her, staring down into her eyes with a dark gaze that caused her to tremble. He wasn't flush against her body, but he might as well have been. She could feel the tension and pulse within him so strongly that she simply longed to fall against him, and take whatever time they had. Of course, he would push her away, and so she made no move.

“When we reach the fort, they'll want to charge Richard—he fired on and sank a Union ship. The men on this ship will fight for him, I have no doubt. On land,
he was armed and fought a mutual enemy, and didn't try to escape. I'm sure he'd never attempt an escape when you were still with us, but that's something we don't need to say. You will be held at the fort, however, until we set sail again.”

She nodded. “Richard does not deserve harsh punishment!”

“A prisoner-of-war camp is where every blockade runner goes when captured. First he'll be questioned, so that will take some time. And by then, God help us, the war may be over.”

“Ahem!”

They both turned, unaware that they had been watched for the past several minutes. A number of the crew members were there, including Captain Tremblay, Richard, Billy, Lafferty and London.

“Miss Fox! We've your cabin ready for you!” Captain Tremblay said.

“My cabin?”

“Come along, my dear,” the captain said. He stepped forward and took her by the arm. Finn shrugged, grinning, as curious as she.

She was surprised when she was escorted to the captain's quarters on the main deck. The men had cleaned it, found fresh linens and set it up with fresh water at the washstand, a number of books on the side table and a vase of flowers.

She looked at Captain Tremblay and then around at the others. “This is lovely, so lovely, and I'm so appre
ciative, but I can't take this from you, Captain Tremblay.”

“I insist,” he told her. “I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you, my dear. This is where I'd like you to be. Please, grant an old man a simple request and accept this hospitality.”

Finn stood back, behind the others, a subtle smile still curling his lips.

“Well, then, I…I thank you!” she said.

Captain Tremblay's smile faltered. “We will fight for you—and Mr. Anderson—when we reach the fort. But I cannot promise you will have such acceptable accommodations there.”

She lowered her head, nodding.

She wasn't worried for herself; she was worried for Richard.

Even if they hanged her, she would survive. Richard wouldn't.

“I accept this hospitality, sir, with my greatest thanks.” She went to each of the men, kissing them on the cheeks and thanking them.

And then, one by one, they left, Richard and Finn hovering at the end.

“Some comfort for a night,” Richard said, giving her a hug. She looked past him to Finn, who was still silent, and then looked at Richard.

“Where will you be?” she asked him huskily.

“When not on guard tonight? I will sleep like a lamb
in one of the bunk cots below. Good night, my dear sister,” he told her.

He started to leave; she drew him back.

“Richard—”

“I'm not afraid of tomorrow, Tara,” he said. “I have known the risks throughout the war. I am not guilty of any conspiracy, and I am certain that will be proven. My dear, General Mosby was incarcerated at Old Capitol, where we will no doubt wind up. If men such as Mosby were held there, it is an apt place for me to be.”

Tara was startled when Richard walked toward Finn. And to her amazement, the two men embraced briefly, as friends.

Richard turned and grinned at her, and continued out.

“You didn't know about this?” she asked Finn.

“No. The men did it all on their own,” he said.

“It's all quite lovely. But where will Captain Tremblay sleep?”

“He'll take one of the officer's quarters below.”

She turned and looked around at the handsomely appointed cabin. There was no sign that a man had been killed here recently.

“I'm still not sure I will rest so well,” she said softly.

“There's more to come,” he told her.

“What do you mean?”

“You explained it yourself. There is still someone out there. We won a battle on the island, then we came to the ship and removed the…dead. But there's still no explanation for how this all came about. You'll need to
rest now. I have a feeling that this cloud will be following us.”

“We killed so many,” she murmured.

“Ah, yes. But in my experience, such commanders send in their minions to be exterminated while they watch and wait for the optimal moment to carry out the true mission. What frightens me most is the possibility that the monster is among us. Someone so old and experienced that he wears a coat of humanity with incredible ease. One would never think of you as a half-breed, except that I learned what you could do. So far, this person is acting the role of humanity so well that not even I can recognize him.”

“Or,” she suggested, “someone has been following us.”

“Yes, or someone has been following us.”

They stood an arm's length from one another. Tara again felt the almost overwhelming desire to walk to him, to touch him at last, explore the contours of his face and feel the vitality of his body next to hers.

She stood still, instead.

“For tonight,” he told her, “rest.”

She nodded, but before Finn could leave, there was a tap at the door. Billy Seabold was there. “Come along! Come along. We've fashioned something of a sumptuous meal. Lafferty is on the harmonica and we're celebrating!”

“What are we celebrating?” Tara asked him.

“Why, life—and a return to civilization!” Billy said. “Miss Fox, if I may?”

Tara accepted his arm. On deck, she found that Lafferty was indeed on his mouthbox, and Billy had created his concoction of rum and coconut and lime. Even those who had mocked his feminine drink were imbibing it. London and Grissom were dancing together, London wearing a mop top and pretending to be Grissom's lady.

“Perhaps a real lady will dance with me?” Billy suggested.

“My pleasure!” Tara assured him.

And so she started out with Billy. As she accepted his hand, Tara noted that there were two men up in the crow's nest, keeping watch. The crew might be celebrating, but they were not fools. Captain Tremblay stood at the bow, watching over the water and the night.

Tara danced, accepted one of Billy's drinks and the fish and beans they had prepared for dinner. She danced again with Richard, and then, at the end, with Finn. As she moved in his arms, she felt the way that his eyes touched her, and she wondered how she had ever thought him austere and hard, but then, she knew that was what he must be for his position.

They didn't talk. They looked at each other, and she felt his hands, and she longed for more.

But eventually, the celebration came to an end, the mess cleaned up and guard duty doled out.

Finn escorted her back to the captain's quarters.

“Sleep,” he told her.

She grinned, looking away. “You know that I really rest best by day.”

“Of course. I'm equally aware that you've learned to adjust to those around you, and take rest where you can.”

“What about you?”

“I'm on guard duty first. I will sleep later.”

He hesitated. His head was close to hers. She thought that his lips would touch her mouth.

He lingered there for just a moment.

And then he stepped back. “Good night, Miss Fox.”

T
HE DREAM OF THE VISION
came again, soon after she lay her head on the pillow.

She wasn't with Lincoln in the White House. She rode in his carriage with him as they traveled through the mall.

“One day,” he said, “there will be many buildings here. The American people will create museums to rival those around the world. We're young, a fledgling nation. But united again, we will grow strong, and on our principles, we will stand against the world.”

“You believe that, sir. That the nation will heal the great rift.”

He was silent for a minute. “There will always be those who seek revenge. There will always be those men who see themselves above others. But this great nation has been forged on the backs of pioneers and great thinkers. Oh, I'm not a blind man. I have seen the way that I am lampooned in the papers. But I think holding fast does not so much influence today as it does tomorrow. Look at the world around us, Tara. War is as old as man. But we are the new world—we are an ocean
away from the old world. We must cling to one another to be a bastion against the old world.”

“You believe the war is coming to an end.”

He smiled. She had so seldom seen him smile. “Yes, I believe this.”

His smiled faded.

“What is it?” she asked him.

“I have had a dream,” he told her.

“What is the dream?”

“I awake. I hear tears. I am in the White House. I come along the corridors, and there are so many tears. I see no one, but I can hear the soft sound of crying. And at last I come to the East Room, and when I'm there, I see a catafalque. And I ask someone, ‘Who has died to cause this sorrow?' They tell me, ‘The president is dead.'”

Tara was silent. Then she said, “That is only a dream, sir. I have come to tell you so many times that as much as you feel you must be a man of the people, you must take great care, as well. I believe, as you do, sir, in the goodness of humanity. But as you have said, there are always those who will seek revenge.”

“Don't fear for me. I am surrounded by friends, and those who guard me.”

“But you must let them be with you at all times, sir.”

“The war is drawing to an end.”

“
Especially
because the war is drawing to an end. There will still be great and horrible battles, sir. And
mostly, those who blame you, North and South, for the deaths of their loved ones.”

“Look at the mall, Tara. One day, there will be a great museum here—”

“
No, no, you can't think about the museum right now, sir!
You must worry about your safety. Don't you see? You are having the dream because you are in danger!”

She tried to reach the president; she couldn't. Suddenly, someone was holding her back. She began to struggle and kick, and then her eyes flew open. “No, no, let me go! Don't you understand? I have to reach him! I—”

“Tara! It's a nightmare!”

The room was lit by only the pale glow of a lamp. The candle within it had almost burned to the end. But in that soft illumination, she saw Finn's face before her. She saw the curious red glint in his dark eyes, and the dark concern that knotted his features. She was cold where he did not touch her. She was afraid. Afraid enough to forget all logic.

She threw her arms around him, trembling as he held her.

He didn't push her away; his arms encircled her. His fingers stroked soothingly over her hair and down her back.

“It was a nightmare,” he told her.

“It's not a nightmare,” she told him. “It's… I'm with him. Somehow, I'm actually with him.”

“Him?”

“Lincoln. President Lincoln. I was with him in his carriage, and he was telling me about a dream…he had a dream about his own death. He saw himself in the White House, people were crying, and when he asked about the commotion, he was told that the president was dead.”

Finn eased himself back from her. “No,” he said, and the sound of his voice was harsh.

“I have to reach him!” she whispered.

He was silent, and then pulled her against him again. “All of us fear for him, Tara. All of us who admire and love him. But you're having a dream, and nothing more.”

“I wish I believed that,” she said.

He pulled away to look into her eyes. “It's a dream. You know, by the very fact that I am here, that we take every threat very seriously, and will stop at nothing to see that he is safe. Tara, I will find Gator. No matter what it takes, I'll find Gator.”

“You'll find Gator,” she whispered. “You'll find others. You'll stop the people in the crowd when he is speaking, and you'll find those who offer the kind of threat that
you
see. But this has been a long and bitter war, and some people don't see. They don't believe that evil—with supernatural power—is out there.”

His fingers ran down the length of her hair again and was silent for some time. “I'll see that you're able to meet him,” he told her at last. “And you'll know that you've been dreaming.”

She lowered her head. “Really? You believe me?”

“Yes, Tara, I believe in you. Now—”

He started to pull away. “Don't leave me,” she said.

“Tara, I can't stay like this…with you,” he told her.

She was silent for a moment, looking at him.

“But what if I don't want you to go?” she asked softly.

“Tara…”

She slipped her arms around his neck, meeting his eyes. “I don't mind being compromised. And I know that I'm your prisoner, and that you risk compromising yourself. I will not try to escape you. I don't wish to escape you. I am innocent—as is Richard—of any attempt to enjoin in a conspiracy.”

He groaned softly. “But I must still take you to Washington.”

“Indeed, you must.” She smiled. “You've promised me that I will meet the president, after all.”

She touched his face, something she felt she had longed to do forever. Her fingers stroked his cheek. He caught her hand. “Tara, I don't take advantage of—”

“Ah, but Agent Dunne, I believe I am the one taking advantage of you.”

He caught her hand, met her eyes and eased them both back upon the captain's bunk. For a moment, he stared into her eyes.

And then he kissed her.

His mouth was gentle, and then firm. His lips teased upon hers, and then formed hard upon them. When his tongue slipped into her mouth, she felt as if an exquisite
heat burst forth within her. He played there long with his lips and tongue, kissing her in a way that ignited longing in her limbs—indeed, in every fiber of her existence. She returned the kiss, eager to learn, and more eager to satisfy. His mouth broke from hers at last; they were both breathless as they stared at each other. He nearly ripped his jacket and shirt from his body, and she remembered when she had first seen and admired his naked chest, when they had been diving, and the sun had glittered down upon him.

She pressed her lips to his throat, and his chest, and she felt the shuddering within the man. His finger fell upon the buttons of her dress, and she relished the touch of his hand against her naked flesh. Even as they disrobed in a tangle of clothing, she felt his kiss, and his hands. And when they lay naked and panting together, she was aware of the corded strength in his limbs and torso, and the fire that just being so close together seemed to burn within her. Again, he kissed her, and then she felt his lips as they began to ease down the length of her body. His touch, gentle and like a feather brush against her throat, the lightest graze of his teeth against her, the caress of his mouth on her breasts. And then her abdomen, her kneecaps, her thighs. She lay stunned and still at the sensations that arose within her, and then she swallowed down a cry as his hands gripped her hips and his kisses roamed even more intimately and she felt something like an explosion. She gasped, catching his shoulders, rising against him, drawing him
back to her while she trembled as she found his mouth again, and feverishly rode her kisses over his shoulders and chest.

He pressed her back to the bunk again, his eyes on hers as he moved himself easily between her thighs, and came into her with a slow, sure thrust that took the greatest care. And then, when she felt the force of him, he began to move, so easily at first, his eyes never leaving hers. She stared back at him, entranced, and then she felt the growing wonder once again, and instinct took over and she began to move, too. She gasped, and eased her mouth to his chest again, and felt the hunger begin anew, something that made her body react in a way as old as time. She arched and clung to him, finding a rhythm that brought her gliding with him as gracefully as the dance, and as haphazardly as the roll of the ship upon the waves. Shimmering ecstasy spun and swirled before her. Even as they melded together, she seemed to forget everything in life except for the need, and the man entangled with her. Then there was an explosion within her, and she felt as if the world had rippled with fireworks, and there could be nothing wrong in heaven, or even in hell if she was there with him. She felt his extreme tension, something so taut it seemed like molten fire, and then he eased himself against her, drawing her to him.

They lay in silence for long moments, and she relished the way that he held her. Tara caught her breath, and felt the cool night air wash over her, easing the burn
in her body. She wondered if she was mad, or if she had simply given in to something she had craved so much, and told herself that the consequences, whatever they might be, had been worth something so desired. She wondered at his thoughts as she lay against him, and so she turned to him then, seeking out his eyes.

“I meant what I said—I would not compromise you in any way,” she said softly. “I will remain your prisoner, and I will answer to any court. I will make no attempts to escape you.”

“I know,” he said quietly.

He rolled over on an elbow, looking down at her. He touched her face and said, “You have been on my mind since that day at Gettysburg. I couldn't bear, for one, that you had escaped me. Pride, you see. But beyond that, something about you haunted me. And when I caught you on the island, I knew, of course,
what
you were, and I was stunned that I had you back in my life, no matter the circumstances. And though I fought it in my own mind, I was jealous of Richard, thinking that you loved him.”

“I do love him.”

“It was hard for me to imagine such a brother,” he said softly.

“But he is my brother, really,” she said, smiling.

“I know that now. And I know, as well, that you are like me, that you are like your family. And I have seen how you dream of Lincoln and fear for him. I believe in you. And still, the die is cast.”

She reached up and touched his hair. She knew that his loyalty and his commitment to his work was part of what drew her to him. What made her admire him, and want him so very much. “I wouldn't have it any other way. I will face any charges. I would stop Gator myself, in any way that I could.”

“I see rough times ahead,” he said.

“Whatever they are, I will not regret…
you,
” she told him.

He pulled her into his arms again. They held fast, close for a moment, and then she felt again the incredible sensation of his sleek nudity, and the moment of comfort became something else again, quickly. She was strong, and she rolled atop him, caught his hands, leaned down and kissed him, and the kiss deepened. Then, again, in the night, as the ship sailed ever closer to the Union garrison, she forgot the future. She began fluttering her kisses against him; she teased, and he allowed her to do so until he took control, pulling her strongly against him. She was one with him again, and the world seemed to escalate all around her. She was heedless of it all, wanting only him.

 

C
APTAIN
C
ALLOWAY SAT
behind his desk in his command office at Fort Zachary Taylor, staring at the men before him with incredulity plastered upon his worn face.

“Let me see if I have this straight, gentlemen,” he said. “You went after a blockade runner, lost a ship, but then caught the blockade runner, and found another Union ship with monsters aboard? I believe that you
both might be in serious need of long leaves!” He stood at the last, staring at them.

“Captain Calloway!” Finn said. “I assure that we are of sound mind. This is something I know about because the capital was recently made aware of the disease that claims and kills men—but makes each victim a machine of death in himself. Harpers Ferry was just so plagued in the midst of war. It is a very real threat.”

“We returned here to warn you of this threat,” Tremblay said. “We might have continued on, sir, but we feared for the men at the fort, and for the citizens of the island.”

“The Rebel-loving horde!” Calloway said, sniffing his dismissal of the danger. “We have had the organization of troop movement to the north from here in the days that you have been gone. General Newton received information that the Confederate, General Milton—son of the state's governor—was reinforcing troops to the west of the state. We are down in numbers here, and I cannot be worried about the fates of men and women who would
spit
on my men if given the chance. Especially for some such ridiculous report about
diseased men
attacking.”

Tremblay walked forward and slammed a fist on Calloway's desk. “I have long served the Union with my passion and my life. And you will listen to me
now, sir!
I saw these beings in action. They set upon my men with the fury. We found all aboard the Union ship I then commanded
dead.
Or in the final throes of dying of the
disease. You must understand this. The danger could be coming here.”

“We are a sound fort. We can withstand the rabble on the island, and we can withstand any assault by sea,” Calloway said.