Forever Young Birth Of A Nation (66 page)

He had taken his knife and cut off the
deerskin which had the message written in blood and had told Darren
that his wife was kidnapped. No doubt Darren even now was repairing
the gash in the wall of the tent where the murderers had escaped
and would make good use of the tent this winter. Darren was sworn
to secrecy, and Ian told him he knew who had done it and would get
her back safely.

The sunlight took some time to ignite Moon
Owl’s remains, but once started the fire consumed them quickly. He
had gathered up most of the ashes and put them into two separate
quart-sized canning jars that he had gotten from the same farmer
who had kept their oxen, tents, and wagons in the past.

A meadowlark sang then as a mourning dove
cooed repeatedly. He knelt with his head down as a montage of
tender moments he had shared with Moon Owl played in his thoughts.
Ah, Ian. You have done it again. Why didn’t you just take her
back to her people instead of letting her get involved in your
life?
He knew the answer to that was that he had come to love
her and didn’t want to be apart from her. Sadly shaking his head he
dried his eyes as he absently took an object from his pocket and
looked idly at it, thinking
this was barely visible this morning
under the very edge of our tent. I almost missed it but for
checking to see how many scents were on the ground there. Five of
them came to murder the two of us.

He recalled again the grisly sight of an eye
lying in the stewpot atop the stove. He had seen that after
lighting one of their oil lamps, even before he had seen the words
written on the wall of the tent in Moon Owl’s blood that spelled
‘GRUNDY N. Y. C.’

She fought well to take an eye
he
thought as he pulled a small orb wrapped in a scrap of oil cloth
from his pocket and looked at it. He once again looked at the
object in his other hand, the thing found on the ground outside
under the edge of the tent. There in his hand was a finely carved
wooden handled tooth brush with the name ‘Lester Stedman’ carved on
the handle. His eyes began to glow a bright frosty blue now as he
thought
you thought to leave me only one clue Grundy, but you
left two. It is I who will find you and not the other way around.
I’m coming to New York and hell is coming with me!

“I think we can ignore the Davis home.
Rebecca has moved on and is seeing Stuart regularly now, and her
father is still a British Colonel. We should concentrate on the
Millhouse home and the bank building. Those two places are most
likely places Ian would go if he came to New York City.”

James and Melissa nodded then, as James said
“I don’t want Melissa watching some place by herself where a bunch
of vampires might show up. We’ll watch the bank building then since
you live at the Millhouse home. What else can we do in the
meantime?”

“The only things that come to mind now are
to get a pair of fighting suits made for you two and practice
shooting and swordsmanship. Oh, I almost forgot to tell you but
there has been another vampire killing recently.”

“What does that tell us” asked Melissa.

“Only that Yvonne doesn’t control her coven
as well as she thinks she does. That could be exploited.”

“How?”

“I can arrange to reveal to Stefan Devrie
that I am Ian McCloud’s wife and that it was I who cut off his
hand.”

“Cosette, that’s too dangerous. It would
draw them to you and put the Millhouses in danger.”

“The Millhouses are what worry me. The rest
I can prepare for, knowing that they are coming for me. If Ian was
with us, we could use me for bait to divide them. Stefan is
obsessed with finding me so he would come after me and bring some
of them with him. That would be fewer for you two and Ian to
kill.”

“Assuming we can find him in time.”

“I could move out and get a room somewhere
and we could use Priscilla to let that be known and maybe use her
to tell Stefan about who I really am. That would remove the
Millhouses from danger.”

“No Cosette. It’s too dangerous. We have to
do better than that. There are too few of us to divide ourselves.
We have to wait for Ian and get to him before they do.”

She sighed and nodded her acceptance,
thinking
this is so frustrating… the uncertainty. Oh Ian, where
are you?

***

Unloading the four chains with their
manacles Ian concealed them in a thicket near a small knoll. There
were four sturdy hardwood trees growing there, the location of each
would define the four corners of a rough square maybe twelve feet
across. The location had an eastern sloping exposure and it had
taken some looking to find the place. But it was ideal for what he
had in mind, and was accessible by longboat or wagon, yet isolated,
being two miles from any farm or home.

He put an oilcloth over the chains and the
four buckets he had brought and then proceeded to bring leaves and
twigs to camouflage them. In some twenty minutes he judged his
cache to be nearly invisible to anyone even should someone chance
to be in that location. He had paid double the going rate to the
Blacksmith shop in Hoboken to have them made, requiring the
blacksmith to stop all other work and make the chains. They were
quite heavy and he had brought them to this site using a rented
wagon with two draft horses.

Looking about before departing, he was
satisfied that they would be here when he returned. As he drove the
team to return the wagon he contemplated his next move, going over
it in his mind as the sun was nearing its zenith.

Somewhat later after visiting his storage
building in Hoboken behind the carpenter’s shop, he emerged looking
like any prosperous Tory merchant that one would see in New York
City, complete with a very expensive and well-made white wig and an
impeccably tailored black suit, gray stockings, and black
tri-corner hat, silver buckled shoes, and an expensively made
shirt. Carrying a banker’s briefcase with counterfeit letters of
credit to one Adam Macrae he walked the two miles to the Manhattan
Ferry, mentally rehearsing things that he wanted to accomplish that
day.

After dark if need be he would swim back
across the Hudson to retrieve his rucksack contents and weapons,
already sealed in a heavily waxed oil cloth. The question of
lodging was a problem what with the occupation so he was resigned
to maybe living in Hoboken in his storage building for a short
while and swimming across to Manhattan by night if necessary. He
was waved past a pair of British soldiers by a sergeant who was
looking closely at passengers to try to discern if any could be men
wanted for desertion or other crimes against the crown. All who
entered and left New York City were scrutinized this way since the
British occupation began.

Walking from the landing he noticed a lot of
new buildings since he had last been there. There was still
evidence of the fire that had broken out during the British
invasion too, with demolition and rebuilding in progress
everywhere, as well as hastily built log structures for housing
British soldiers. The city was busy and commerce was steady as
evidenced by the activity at the docks, albeit all was done under
the watchful eye of the occupying British army.

At the Grover Merchants’ Bank he introduced
himself as Adam Macrae and inquired where he might find Lester
Stedman. He was asked to wait and after some ten minutes an older
gentleman beckoned to him to come to his desk. Introducing himself
once again Ian again requested information on how to find Lester
Stedman.

“Ah! Mr. Stedman. Yes, yes, uhmm…. let me
see… oh yes! The Stedmans are customers here. May I inquire as to
the nature of your interest?”

“Yes. I’ve come here from Boston to start a
foundry and Mr. Stedman was one name I was given as a prospective
backer.”

“I see. Mr. Macrae, I cannot give
information like this to strangers. I am sure that you
understand.”

“That is quite all right sir. I have other
business to attend to, and one prospective backer is low on my list
of things to do. Can you tell me where I might hire a carriage for
the day?”

Certainly, Mr. Macrae” the man said and gave
him directions to a place not four blocks distant. Standing then,
Ian smiled and extended his hand as he said “Good day sir.”
Turning, he exited the office and left the bank.

***

A slender sickle moon hung overhead as a
shadow flitted to the rear of the Grover Merchants’ Bank of New
York City that night. It bounded to the roof of the three-story
building, finding a sturdy steel access hatch, padlocked from the
inside. Ian grasped the edge of the thing and began to lift it at
one corner. Creaking at first, the thing began to bend, yielding to
the tremendous pressure he was applying with a continuous groan, as
if in protest.

When there was enough room, he peered inside
and discerned a kind of steep staircase descending into a gloomy
interior. Once inside, his keen vampire eyes made out details
enough that he soon was at a door which was locked. In seconds he
had twisted off the doorknob and had the door open, gliding
silently into a hallway. He descended the stairs stealthily, coming
at last to the main floor where he flitted to the wall where the
offices of the executives of the bank were located. The main floor
boasted a ceiling height of some seventeen feet, but the wall that
separated the executive offices from the main floor of the bank was
but twelve feet in height, being only a partition. He bounded to
the top of that and was down in the office he had targeted in
seconds.

Diligently he looked about for a ledger book
or some such thing like he had been used to keeping himself at
Banque de Lafayette in Paris. It took more time than he thought,
but after an hour and a half of careful looking, he found the thing
in another office along that wall. It was alphabetically organized,
so soon he had the address he needed.

Carefully rearranging everything he
departed, stopping at the roof to bend the hatch back as best he
could, and leaving the padlock intact.

The next day, he hired a carriage and driver
and within a half hour he was being taken past the Milliken
Merchants’ Bank building. That it was still being used by the
British as a barracks to house soldiers was evident from some two
blocks away so he had the driver stop nearly across the street and
sat watching the place for a while. He failed to notice a
well-appointed carriage nearby with two young adult passengers. In
fact it was James and Melissa, but he could not see into the
interior of the thing and only glanced at it in passing after he
had instructed the driver to take him to King’s Bridge Road.

In a little over an hour he neared the
Stedman estate. Instructing the driver to stop alongside of the
road, Ian studied the place thoroughly, counting the number of
dormers on the manor house and trying to estimate the number of
rooms in it. After several minutes he had the driver pull up
further so that he could observe the outbuildings and he then
focused his attention on the tenant’s house in back.

I wonder if they all live in the manor house
or if some live in the tenant’s house out back too? I’ll be
visiting this place some night soon so I need to hire a tailor for
making a fighting suit today. I’ll need some holsters and a sturdy
belt with suspenders, but I can have that done at a cobbler’s shop.
I suppose I had best go shopping for some sturdy black cloth first.
I could write several letters too and see if I can get them taken
to England. That way I can tell everyone I am in New York City now.
Looks like I have several stops to make today.

“Marie, I would like for you to help us with
something” said Celeste as she and Celine came into the kitchen at
the chateau, seating themselves near one of the three large
tables.

Marie smiled and came to her then with a
quizzical look on her face and bent to kiss Celine on her forehead
as she smoothed her hair. “What is it?”

“Please sit here opposite Celine” she said
as she drew a chair out to face Celine’s chair. Marie seated
herself, smiling at Celine and wrinkling her nose at her, as she
laughed delightedly.

“I want to have Celine talk to you,
Marie.”

“Well, here I am. Go ahead sweetheart.”

“No, I want for her to talk to you in your
mind, Marie.”

“I beg your pardon? You two are the only
ones who can do that.”

“How do we know?”

Her eyes widened as she said “Why we… we
don’t know for sure, do we?”

“We are about to find out, Marie. Celine,
come sit on Aunt Marie’s lap and put your hands on her cheeks.”
Celine got out of her chair and Marie took her up to sit astraddle
her lap, facing her with her little hands on her cheeks.

“Celine, I want you to call to Marie like
you do to me.”

“All right, Mama” she said as she closed her
eyes.

“Marie, please close your eyes and just
concentrate.”

Marie sat there a while feeling nothing and
after some two minutes she shook her head saying “I am getting
nothing.”

“Now open your eyes and look directly into
Celine’s eyes. Celine, you look only into Marie’s eyes.”

“Celeste! Something is happening! What…what?
It is as if someone is calling or knocking at a door!”

Celeste turned to Celine and said “Stop
asking to come in Celine and just open that door and go in and talk
to Marie.”

In seconds Marie put both hands over her
mouth and gasped as she said “Oh my God! Oh my God! Hello Celine! I
hear you sweetheart! Aunt Marie hears you!” she exclaimed as she
looked at the two of them wide-eyed.

Celeste beamed happily at the two of them
and leaning over, she kissed Celine. Turning to Marie she said “Now
quit speaking to her out loud and talk to her with your thoughts.
Do not take your eyes off of hers.