Secret of the Wolf (10 page)

were the patients' chambers, and Johanna respected their privacy. She did, indeed,

seem to regard them more as family than men and women afflicted with madness
.

"You've met Oscar," Johanna said from her chair opposite his across the parlor. "He is

what many call an idiot—his level of intelligence is that of a young child. He is prone to a

child's outbursts, but in general he is a gentle soul who asks only to be treated kindly.”

"But he cannot be cured of such an affliction, surely," Quentin said
.

"No." She leaned forward, her hands clasped at her knees in a posture completely free

of feminine self-consciousness. "You see, he was born to a family in which his mother

contracted a serious illness during her pregnancy. She died soon after his birth. I know

little of his early life, but he was left much on his own as a child, and suffered for it. His

father was himself a dying man, and begged my father to take the boy in." She smiled

with a touch of sadness. "Oscar has been with us since the age of twelve. The world is

not kind to those with his defect.”

"As it isn't kind to any who are different," Quentin said. Johanna looked at him with such

unexpected warmth that he found his heart beating faster. Good God, was he so much

in need of approval, of any meager sign of esteem?

Or was it just Johanna herself?

She blinked, as if she'd caught him staring. Perhaps he had been. "I'm glad you

understand," she said, and lapsed into silence
.

Secret of the Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 03

Page 67 of 455

He was trying to find something intelligent to say—something that might impress her

with his wit and breadth of knowledge—when a woman flounced into the room from the

hallway
.

Never had Quentin seen a more vivid contrast to Johanna, except among the prostitutes

who so often became his unsought companions. The woman was near fifty but dressed

several decades younger, in flowing clothes that hinted of Bohemian affectation. She

wore as much paint as any lady of the evening, but she carried herself like a queen.

Once, she might have been pretty. She clearly believed she still was
.

Quentin rose. The woman came to stand directly before his chair and assumed a pose.

"At last," she said. Her dyed red hair was piled fashionably on top of her head, but a few

stray wisps gave her an air of slight dishabille. Her colorless eyes glinted with predatory

intent. "Johanna, introduce us at once.”

Johanna sighed, so softly that none but Quentin could hear. "Irene—”

"Miss DuBois." The woman sniffed
.

"—I would like you to meet Mr. Forster—”

"Quentin," he put in
.

Johanna's mouth stiffened. "Quentin, please be acquainted with Miss Irene DuBois, one

of our residents." She pronounced the name in the English way, vocalizing the final "e."

"Irene, Quentin will be staying with us for a time.”

Miss DuBois batted her eyelashes at Quentin. "Delighted, Mr. Forster. I am so glad you

have come to see me. I had almost feared that all my admirers had forgotten about me."

She extended a beringed hand
.

Secret of the Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 03

Page 68 of 455

Quentin did the expected and kissed the air above her knuckles. "How could anyone

forget you, Miss DuBois?”

"Of course." She laughed, and the sound, much like her face, might once have been

beautiful. "I knew at once that you were a man of taste and discretion. You could not

have failed to see my performances on the stage on Broadway. I acted at the National

Theater, Niblo's Garden, and the Winter Garden; everyone who was anyone came to

watch me. When I trod the boards, no other actress was worth seeing.”

Careful not to allow the slightest trace of amusement to cross his face, Quentin released

her hand. He was beginning to guess what her particular form of madness might be.

"The stage lost a great talent when you left it.”

"Yes. You see, my doctors told me that I had worked much too hard, out of love for my

devotees and my dedication to my art. They insisted that I sit out a season to rest. But I

shall be returning very soon, and then the New York stage will be restored to its former

glory.”

"I'm certain that you shall dazzle your audiences," Quentin said. He glanced beyond her

to Johanna, whose expression was unreadable. Did she approve of his playing along?

He couldn't tell. "You haven't been here long, I gather?”

"Just for this season," she said. She threw Johanna a disdainful look. "Johanna would

like to confine me here forever. This place is so drab without me, and the others simply

couldn't get along without a little beauty and culture in their lives. Of course she didn't

want you to see me. She knew what would happen.”

Quentin recognized another cue when he heard it. He felt a profound pity for this

woman, who lived in a past that might or might not have been as glorious as she

painted it—a past that could never be restored. But he wouldn't be the one to shatter

her illusions, even if Johanna's ultimate intent was to do so
.

Secret of the Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 03

Page 69 of 455

"I doubt very much that the doctor compares herself to you," he said
.

Irene fluttered. "I should warn you, Quentin—do not fall in love with me. It is simply too

dangerous. I am devoted to my art. But I will receive your homage.”

"I shall be glad to give it." He bowed
.

"I know it is cruel of me to forsake you," she said, "but I must have my rest." With that,

she made her exit stage left
.

Johanna was regarding him with a slightly raised eyebrow. "Now you have met Irene,"

she said
.

"And I'm not likely to forget her." He sat down and crossed his legs. "She actually was

an actress, wasn't she?”

"Yes. I believe she had a brief career with some modest potential. But she chose to

accept the protection of an admirer who promised great things and delivered none of

them." She hesitated, obviously thinking better of confiding further in him. "He

abandoned her. Eventually, she became as you see her now. She has been with us,

here and in the east, for ten years—one of my father's more recalcitrant cases. She

does not truly wish to emerge from her delusional world.”

"And one must want to be healed," Quentin said
.

His insight surprised her. It was not what she'd have expected in his sort. "My father

believed so.”

"Her behavior doesn't trouble you?”

Secret of the Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 03

Page 70 of 455

"Because she insults me?" Johanna smiled. "She can't hurt me, Mr. Quentin. I am her

doctor. My only concern is for her welfare. And she is by no means the most ill of our

residents.”

The sound of water rushing from the pump in the kitchen interrupted her words. "Ah. I

believe that the Reverend Andersen has come in from the garden. Shall we go see

him?”

Quentin followed her into the kitchen, where a thin, raw-boned man with sandy hair bent

over the washbasin, furiously pumping water over his hands. As they watched, he

picked up a bar of soap and lathered his hands until they were completely submerged in

suds, and then rinsed them off again. He repeated the action five more times before

Johanna spoke to him
.

"Lewis," she said. "May we have a moment of your time?”

He spun about as if startled, hands dripping with soapy water. His gaze twitched from

her to Quentin
.

"Pardon me," he said. He returned to the basin, reached for the soap, stopped, and

rinsed his hands instead. He dried them thoroughly on a towel hung beside the basin

and pulled on a pair of white gloves. Only then did he turn his attention to Quentin and

Johanna
.

"I was working in the garden," he said in a clipped, irritable voice, not meeting their

eyes. He lifted his hands and stared at them, as if he could still see specks of dirt

invisible Jo anyone else. Quentin couldn't smell anything on him but the residue of soap,

the cloth of the gloves, and well-washed human skin. The man's spotless clothing bore

the faint scent of growing things, but no telltale earth. If he had been in the garden,

Quentin doubted that he'd touched the ground with anything but the soles of his shoes
.

Secret of the Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 03

Page 71 of 455

"I am sure the garden is in much better condition for your labors," Johanna said. "Lewis,

this is our new resident, Quentin Forster. Quentin, this is the Reverend Lewis

Andersen.”

"Not now," Andersen muttered. "I must cleanse—" He held his arms out from his sides

and looked down the length of his body. "So much sin, filth

”

Johanna didn't react to his curious pronouncements. "Would you care to join us for tea

in the parlor?”

"The china

it is not clean.”

"I assure you that it is," Johanna said gently. "Please trust me, Lewis. You have nothing

to fear.”

He finally looked at her, hunching his bony shoulders. "Very well. A few moments." He

started for the door just as Quentin turned to follow Johanna, and their sleeves brushed

in passing. Andersen flinched as if he'd been struck
.

"Pardon me," Quentin said. Andersen scuttled past him into the parlor and up to the

vast stone fireplace at the end of the room, where he stared with horrified fascination

into its dark recesses. He shuddered, backed away, and sat down in a chair in the

farthest corner. He no longer seemed to notice the presence of anyone else in the

room
.

"Mr. Andersen has been with us for five years," Johanna said quietly. "Lewis, what do

you think of the roses this summer?”

He huddled in his chair, turning his hands back and forth in front of his face. "I have tried

and tried to make them perfect, but I fail. I fail.”

Secret of the Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 03

Page 72 of 455

"If you'll forgive me, Mr. Andersen," Quentin said, "I caught a glimpse of the roses. I've

never seen any so beautiful. Your cultivation of them is quite extraordinary.”

Andersen stared at Quentin. "You are British." His thin lips stretched in an expression of

aversion, and Quentin felt as though he were being judged from the high pulpit of some

vast London cathedral
.

"You are a sinner," Andersen said abruptly. His eyes bore a hint of fanaticism, but it was

more distressed than threatening. "What is your sin?”

The jokes that came so naturally to Quentin's mind seemed very wrong under the

circumstances. This man wouldn't understand his levity. "All men sin," he said. "I'm no

exception.”

"You run from them, but you cannot escape. I know." He locked his fingers together in a

grip that must have been painful. "You cannot run from God.”

"I doubt very much that God wants to find me," Quentin said, biting his tongue on the

impulse to ask the reverend why he'd left his calling. "But I don't pretend to know His

mind.”

"He will find you. He found me. He found me." He cast a wild look at Johanna and

jumped up from his chair. "I must go.”

"We'll talk again," Johanna said
.

Andersen fled the room with his hands pulled close to his body, careful not to touch any

object in his passing
.

Secret of the Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 03

Page 73 of 455

Quentin blew a breath from puffed cheeks and sank lower in his chair. "If one looks

beyond his affliction, he puts me in mind of a vicar I once knew. He wasn't terribly fond

of me.”

"Lewis has much improved from the early days in Pennsylvania," Johanna said. "When

he was brought to our asylum by his family, he was unable to function normally. He

spent half of each day washing himself, refusing to touch or be touched. He ate almost

nothing. He was no longer able to attend his congregation or give sermons. And he

spoke constantly of God's condemnation, of his own sin and worthlessness. He was

determined to wash his sin away.”

As if that were possible, Quentin thought with a bleak inner laugh. Aloud, he said, "But

you've helped him.”

"His washing is much less extreme, and on good days he is able to hold rational

conversations. His distorted ideas have gradually lessened in their influence. In fact, he

curtailed his usual cleansing ritual when we interrupted him—something he would not

have done a year ago.”

If Andersen had been worse before, Quentin could scarcely imagine his state upon

arrival. "What causes him to

act as he does?”