The Devil & Lillian Holmes (21 page)

I created this horror.

“You don’t like what you see,
mon chéri
? At one time you could not keep your hands off of me. Tsk tsk.”

George itched to shoot her, reminded of the chance by the burning of the pistol at his back. But she was on guard, alert, expecting him to act. She could move faster than the blink of an eye, much faster than himself. How to throw her off her game?

He spread his arms out. “I am here, surrendering. It is what you wanted, no? I truly didn’t understand the depth of your feelings for me, Marie, but Phillip reminds me that my self-absorption blinds me to such things.”

Her laughter echoed off the stone walls and made the lamps flicker, made ghostly shadows dance on the floor. “You are nothing to me, George. You never were, and never shall be. Is that really what you thought? That I pined away for three hundred years over our brief liaisons? Your ego almost equals mine! Perhaps I inherited the trait from my maker?”

“I think not. Phillip does not share the trait, and he was my firstborn.”
But,
Philip was wrong and I was correct. Her resentment for her maker made me a target, not unrequited love.

“And I your second-born. What a proud papa you must be!”

Do not mention the boy. Give Sullivan as much time as possible.
“What is going on, Marie? Why this revenge on my friends? What is this place, and how are these mortals involved?”

The vampiress eyed him before speaking. “I’m a bit disappointed, Georgy. I envisioned this meeting differently, expected a bit of a fight from you. So, that makes me believe all is not as it appears. Your surrender is disingenuous.”

“I am sincere. I offer myself to you, for whatever satisfaction it might bring. Take me and be done with this city. I don’t for a moment believe you are happy here.”

Marie took one stride that moved her many feet, noiselessly. In all his years, George had never seen a vampire capable of such a feat.

“Happy?” She was more hideous up close and smelled of rotted flesh. Would that he didn’t need to stall and she could put him out of his misery immediately. The sight of her was nauseating. “What happiness have I found since you took me? What happiness have you found since your mother took you? No, I am not happy in this wretched place and will be gone from it soon. I am, however, intrigued.”

“By what?”

“Why didn’t you run?”

He shrugged. “I’m tired.”

But the statement was a lie. While he’d always told himself and others how tired of this life he was, it no longer rang true. He had been tired enough to turn his back on everything before he became Lillian’s Leaping Man, but now he wanted to live, wanted to live with Lillian and Jacques. Life seemed different now, a chance to experience emotions he’d never before imagined. He wouldn’t mention it, of course, not to Marie, but he was no longer a self-loathing vampire seeking a convenient way to die.

Could Marie be taken down somehow? Perhaps he’d miscalculated badly. Should he have tried to conquer her with Sullivan, not let them split up? He’d wanted one of them to find the boy, though. Maybe he should have found the boy and then fled Baltimore. But it was too late now. And having watched her cross the room in a blink made it clear that she was more dangerous than anything he’d ever seen.

“I can believe that. Have a seat, Georgy. It doesn’t need to be like this. Father and child should have a nice little chat before I dispose of you.”

Where is the insanity I expected?
he wondered.
She is calm and studied in her words.
The pistol burned, the dagger burned, and still he worked for more time before the final confrontation. How long had it been? Moments, only.

“What do you gain from this revenge, then, Marie? If it is because I turned you, you could have done this eons ago. Why now?”

“Can’t you see with your own eyes? I’m dying.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Look at me. Smell my flesh. I am like the
dreach foula
of old.” She smiled, and her ghastly face became more horrible. “You drink only mortals, and that sustenance refreshes you, body and soul. When you drink from our kind, I have found there is no renewal. Only a very slow decline. And the process appears irreversible, though I have tried to gain strength in recent months from mortals.”

She smiled again and stared into his eyes. George fought hard not to look away but could not stand the sickness emanating from her. He shut his eyes, and her voice became a hissing whisper.

“I have finally found a way to die, much as a mortal would. Quite naturally. Doesn’t that sound appealing?”

George shook his head. “At one time it would have. No longer. And I have no interest in feasting on vampires.” He shrugged. “So you want to destroy me before you die. I see.”

She laughed again. He expected her to say something, but she didn’t.

Fury bubbled up in his chest. “Couldn’t you have simply taken me without murdering Annaluisa and Aileen?”

“Annaluisa was a talker. She rather annoyed me. Who is Aileen? Oh, the chit who was maid to your lover.” Marie shrugged, as if she could barely remember. “It seemed like the thing to do at the time. I get bored, Georgy.”

“And this group of silly men and their secret society. What role do they play?”

Marie ran a finger along her grotesque cheek, coy. “They have served a purpose. Never underestimate what a man will do for money or power, Georgy. A political post…a profitable company…the promise of immortality at the perfect age. It is funny what they consider to be their best age: men wait about ten years too long, women stop about ten years early. You killed the best of my mortal followers, of course.”

“The best? A rapist and a demented physician?” George cursed himself, for he had led them to the topic of Lillian, which he’d wanted desperately to avoid. But he was so angry for Lil he could barely hold his tongue; it seemed she had been Marie’s pawn for ages. He could just hope that Mr. Doyle had nothing to do with the other scoundrels.

“Someone had to watch over her,” Marie said. “At least I provided for her. Give me that much.”

Her horrible grin made his stomach turn. She was talking about his Lil. But, how had Marie provided for Lil? How long had she truly known her?

God, no.

“You orchestrated the rape of a woman? You are more abhorrent than I could ever imagine!”

“Of course I did not.” Marie looked affronted. “I would have eventually destroyed Pemberton for that, but I had other uses for him first. He was to simply abscond with any child of hers, not to create one. That is the difficulty with mortals, is it not? Completely unreliable.”

“What is Lillian to you? Why such an interest in an orphan?” But an awful possibility appeared, crept closer and squeezed the breath from him. Was it fact?

“When was the last time you heard of a vampire giving birth to a mortal?”

George didn’t trust himself to speak.

“Or giving birth at all?”

Now the pistol burned his back, but he had to know, had to understand the Truth of Lillian Holmes.

“I waited, watching, wondering when one of the Elders would come. I’ve broken each of their commandments, and still they left me alone.”

George nodded but thought,
Ah, there you are wrong. Your days are numbered far fewer than you think.

Marie inspected her rotted nails, as if they were discussing the weather. “She was an accident, of course,” she volunteered. “A mistake. Who would have expected my union to be fruitful? I thought there must be something special about her, but it seems I was wrong. I have watched, though, and wondered. At times I’ve spoken to her, and I almost believe she heard me. The effect seemed detrimental; I saw her deteriorate.

“My endearments to her—and yes, you may not believe it, but I did care about her in my own way—they seemed to…torture her. You’ll never understand my feelings, and I barely understand them myself. But I found her rather charming the few times I saw her. Enchanting. She looks a great deal more like her father. A pity, that.”

“Her father was mortal, then?” George wanted to scream, to tear the grey flesh from Marie, to torture her into saying this was a false story. This horror in the flesh could not be Lillian’s mother.

“Another rather charming mortal. As it turns out he was quite insane, but that doesn’t matter. They hanged him a few years ago.”

“Hanged him?”

“He liked to murder. Fine parentage, your beloved, don’t you think?” Marie sighed, and for a moment George thought he saw regret in her eyes, a longing for a different outcome. “He was rather famous, and although the couple that Pemberton hired to raise Lillian thought her father to have perished on a ship, I always thought it a little dull of them not to investigate matters further. Henry Holmes was in all the papers. Mind you, I did not choose him because he was an insane killer. I simply thought he was handsome. See, that is what I mean about mortals. Unpredictable, unreliable.”

“It sounds as if he was very predictable.” God help Lillian, was she truly the child of this abyssal monster and a heinous murderer? Which horrible traits could be passed down? Why was she so good, so noble?

But so confused, George. So vulnerable.

Marie hissed. “Well, it hardly matters now. She was mortal until Pemberton mucked things up and you interfered further. Her child is mortal, although we have waited a good while to see if he would remain so. In fact, the entire exercise proved incredibly unproductive. He shows no signs of being remarkable in any way. I find him rather tedious, in fact.”

“She has a child?” George prevaricated.
Please, Sullivan, please.

“Oh, my dear Georgy. That is beneath you. Now, put this silliness aside and tell me how things have gone for you these last few hundred years. We have a bit of catching up to do, do we not?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The wrong brother.

Mr. Doyle took off his spectacles and handed George’s letter back to Phillip, who clutched it tightly and stared out the window. Lillian wanted someone to tell her everything would work out, that George hadn’t actually gone to Marie. That she didn’t have a child that needed rescuing. That her life, to this point, was one long dream. But these people and their reactions were too detailed, too laced with frustration and emotion for her to be fantasizing. Life had actually become unbearable.

What good would it do to find her son now? What use could she be to him, broken, heartbroken, tired, and unable to change any circumstance around her?
I am like a puppet,
she mused. And it seemed anyone in the world could take over the strings at any time without her leave.

If she could somehow make everything as it once was, though, would she? She sat in the chair she’d typically used when chatting with Addie. She closed her eyes and imagined Addie there, humming an old tune and knitting or doing embroidery, depending upon the season. Thomas would be close by, always close by. Her two servants, the closest she had to family. He would usher visitors, although few and far between, in and out of the parlor, but he seemed always happier once they were gone. His nerves, he said, since the war…and his leg. He’d sneak off to sip a dram of whiskey.

Aileen would be bustling around upstairs, folding the washing or polishing some piece of jewelry. She sang too, but her songs were in Gaelic and always seemed melancholy. Once Lillian had asked her what she sang about, and she shook her head. “A place I don’t know, a place I’ll never see.” Lillian had made a note in her Journal to find a proper way to take Aileen on a journey to Ireland. Another promise she’d broken.

Lillian would sip a bit of her own medicine, read for hours, and then wait for the sun to set so she could sneak out set out on grand adventures. She’d only had one: the Leaping Man. So, which was the dream? Her life before George, or her life after?

The house was bigger then, wasn’t it? How could that be? She watched Phillip, who seemed larger to her now that he wasn’t in George’s shadow.

Phillip will act. He cannot resist any more than I
.
We are both slaves to our maker.

Mr. Doyle eyed Phillip nervously then turned to her. “This is grave, indeed. I cannot claim to fully understand any of it, except to say that Mr. Orleans is a man besotted. If what you tell me about this Madam Lucifer is true, then despite his argument to the contrary he is indeed a hero to attempt what he does. Miss Holmes, I am sincerely sorry for whatever has transpired but feel I am out of place here now. I will leave you to your business.”

The author’s pronouncement shook Lillian out of her numbness, sheer panic taking over. She saw his hands shake as he put his glasses into his jacket pocket. “No! I beg you, Mr. Doyle. I would have your counsel now more than ever. I promise I will find Johnnie Moran so you feel more at ease!”

She clung to his arm and he stared at her incredulously.
You are nothing to him, Lil. Why couldn’t this man be my father, be the one to tell me what to do, to guard me and stand by me at all costs?

“But even Mr. Orleans instructed you to defer to Phillip,” Mr. Doyle said. “What could I possibly know about defeating a deadly vampire? I didn’t even know they exist until you opened my eyes.”

He is simply afraid. He should be. And he is right; Bess, Kitty, and he must leave immediately. And they must take the boys.

“May I ask a favor of you, although I’ve done nothing to earn it?”

“Your tone is so reproachful, Miss Holmes. I am sorry to have failed you. You seem to have given me powers akin to my fictional heroes. I assure you, I am a very average man.”

“You are not. But you are mortal,” she allowed. “And the other mortals I care about are numerous. Might you assist them in escaping this city?”

“Escaping?” Bess shook both her foot and her head. “I am not leaving my home.”

“Oh, Bess, I nearly forgot. This is for you.” Lil handed the tear-stained envelope to Bess, who opened it with trepidation.

“I don’t understand.” Bess lifted the stack of bills and gaped at them.