The Devil & Lillian Holmes (26 page)

Well, George reminded himself, he had done so often enough, but not to an innocent friend.

Lillian hugged Jacques and closed her eyes. “Save him.”

“I think you are the one to do it, Lil. He’ll forgive you much more easily than me or Phillip, don’t you think?”

She nodded and motioned for Phillip to take custody of the boy. Running to George, she knelt by Doyle. “I’m not sure precisely what to do.”

“Yes, you are. The first time is the hardest. But are you positive of this?”

“No. But I’d dearly love for him to write more stories. He’s a wonderful man, isn’t he, George? He found Jacques. He rescued him…”

“There’s that. And he does have an interest in the eternal.”

“Yes, good, we’ll tell him that’s what we were thinking. Don’t mention the stories. I don’t want to upset him.” Giving a great sigh, Lillian held her wrist to George’s mouth so he could open a wound and produce the blood that would heal Doyle. She hissed at the pain and pleasure.

“Oh, yes,
that
will be what upsets him. He won’t be upset in the least to wake up finding that he’s a vampire.” George laughed. “At least it will cure that cough. Sounded like a touch of pneumonia to me. Ho, Lil, give me a sip of you…it’s been so long.”

She bumped him away with her hip. “Not likely. Now hold his head up for me. You can lap at his wounds if you’re that hungry.”

George heard Phillip talking to Jacques, distracting him from the scene in the street. What would Lil tell her son? They still had a long road ahead of them. But having him safe in her arms was a good start.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Bread and jam.

Lillian wondered what Johnnie thought when he returned to the scene of the accident to find them missing. She also wondered what he would do about it. Had Arthur told him all?

She kept a tight grip on Jacques’s hand, loving the contact with him, hating how inadequate she felt. It was one thing to want your child in your care, another to know how to provide it. Why, she didn’t even have a mother friend to copy, she realized, and wondered how she might remedy that. Aileen had done all right with her brothers, and Johnnie as well. They were good boys, although little rogues. How would Jacques get on with them?

Phillip had taken Arthur to his house and volunteered for the odious task of managing his newborn antics. Lillian would visit soon, she vowed.

“Tomorrow, you must see him tomorrow,” George had warned. He would want to see his maker.

“Are you
certain
you want me here now, Lil?” George asked as they arrived at her home. “You are both safe.” When he put his hands on Jacques’s shoulders, the boy didn’t try to wrestle himself free but simply yawned.

Oh, of course,
Lillian thought.
He’s tired and hungry! Surely there is food in the house?

She needed Addie and Thomas. Another nervous lurch of her stomach at the thought of how to explain everything to the pair, who now more than ever seemed the only mother and father figure she’d ever have, and that she’d buried Aileen without them even knowing her dead. Perhaps she would forever need to keep them at a distance.

She nodded to George. “I would have you here.”

“Where are we?” Jacques asked as he examined the house’s exterior. “I thought you were taking me back to the home.” His deep brown eyes, so like her own, reflected worry no seven-year-old should have to feel.

She knelt to comfort him. “This is a bit like the home, but better. No Madam, not ever again. She is gone forever. There are three lads to play with, and a lovely yard. We can go to the park every Sunday, where you can sail boats and have all sorts of adventures. Would you like that, Jacques?”

He shrugged. “S’pose. My name isn’t Jacques though. Madam called me that, but I hated it. I’m not French. At the home they called me Jack.”

“Jack.” Lillian smiled. “I like that name. We will never call you anything else.” She brushed her hand on his cheek and bit back tears. It wasn’t time to tell him the truth, not quite yet.
I’m too tired, and I don’t know what to say.

George touched her back, and she stood. “It will be fine, love,” he said. “Take him inside.”

He opened the front door, but Lil hesitated, feeling as if entering her home would waken her from the wonderful dream of having her son. A sip of medicine would help right now, but she didn’t want for Jack to see that.

“Lil, he’s exhausted. So am I.” George scooped Jack up in his arms, and the boy rested a head on his shoulder. Lillian stared, wanting to remember the picture accurately for the rest of her life.

George pushed the door fully open with his foot, carried Jack inside and right up the stairs into Lillian’s bedroom. He sat Jack on the bed and worked at pulling off his boots. “Tonight,” he remarked, “you may sleep in your street clothes.”

“I’m hungry.”

“As well you should be, boy. Lil, be a dear and go downstairs, get a treat for him, won’t you?”

He winked at her, and she gaped. How did he know how to do this? George was the last man on earth to raise a young boy. Still, she ran to the kitchen and scoured the larder for anything that might suit.
Bread and jam, bread and jam. I loved that as a child!

After cutting off two large hunks of bread and smearing them with jam and butter, and after pouring a jar of milk, she ran back to her room. Jack was sitting up in bed, listening to George.

“Tomorrow you can sleep in the room with the other boys, but we won’t wake them now. Does that sound fine?”

The boy nodded. “Quite fine. What is your name, mister? Are you in charge of this home?”

George looked taken aback, but Lillian was too interested in his answer to rescue him. He glanced over and she nodded. It seemed too soon, but if George could help her, she would accept this.
I’ve never needed so much help.

A tiny voice inside contradicted her.
You’ve always needed help. You would never accept it.

“You can call me George. Do you remember that when you were at the home, sometimes people would come and take away one of the boys?”

Jack nodded. “They got taken. I never got taken. Except by
her
.”

“Do you know why?”

The boy shook his head no, but Lillian wondered how many awful reasons he’d created for why no one ever wanted him.

“Because they were saving you for us. We had a hard time finding you, though.”

“You were looking for me?”

“Yes. Very hard. Lil, bring over the food.”

Lillian sat across from George on the bed and handed the plate to Jack, who devoured the bread and slurped down the milk.

“What’s your name?” Lillian’s son asked her, with a full mouth and jam smeared across his cheek. She cleaned him off with a handkerchief George offered.

“My name is…”

“It’s all right, Lil. Tell him your name.”

“My name is Lillian. Lillian Holmes.”

“Are the other boys here vampires like you? Vampires I’ve seen are strong. Wouldn’t be easy to play with vampire boys.”

“No,” Lillian answered. “They are just like you. You will like them. And they have a giant dog named Abraham Lincoln. I think you will like him as well.”

Jack closed his eyes. “I like this home better than the other one.”

“It’s not a home for orphaned boys, Jack,” Lil whispered after a time. “It’s your home.”

His eyes fluttered for a moment, and Lil wasn’t sure if he’d heard her or if sleep had won out. No matter, it gave her more time.

Jack whispered something she couldn’t hear and then looked at her. “Are you my mother and father? You looked for me…”

“Yes, love, I am your mother. George…”

George looked at Lil for direction. She nodded.

“And I am your father.”

Evidently satisfied, Jack rolled onto his side and fell fast asleep.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Heroics unmasked.

George spent the rest of the night with Lillian in his arms, curled up in the bedroom formerly occupied by Addie. He slept fitfully, visions of Marie, Sullivan, and the dead Coyles running in a continuous loop through his mind.

Even though they’d found Jack and Marie was dead, he felt a failure, not able to forgive himself for luring Lil and Phillip into the pit of darkness. He’d worried they would come, stubborn as they both were. He should have sent them the letter long after the confrontation, at least if he was being truly noble.
I could have lost them both, lost everything.
He thought of Sullivan, wondered if he’d ever meet the man again. Surely he and Phoebe were on a train, heading quickly away from Baltimore.

“Morning,” Lillian whispered, and wiped dark-circled eyes.

“Sleep more, Lil. You’ll need a month of sleep to make up for yesterday.”

“No, I’ve much to do. I must see how Jack is and then introduce him to the boys. And you know I must face Arthur. Johnnie will come knocking at my door, no doubt.…”

She rose and pulled on her robe. George watched her, leaning on his elbow. She looked over her shoulder at him and sent a glance of apology as she opened her messenger bag and took a sip of medicine.

“We must talk, love.”

“I will give it up, George. Just not today. Give me a day or two.”

He wondered how soon it could be. The longer he let her habit go, the harder it would be for her to break. But he could give her a few more days, certainly. They’d faced worse.

“I want only to talk about yesterday.”

Her shoulders dropped, and he wondered for a moment if her habit of hiding great secrets wasn’t more tolerable than this never-ending parade of woes. But the truth was something that had to be faced and he said, “I’ve never heard you mention your father, of wanting to find him. But learn about him you did.”

“As a child, I believed Addie’s story of him going down on a ship. At least since adulthood, I wondered if he was more than a cad who either attacked or seduced my mother. I suppose I imagined she might have given up a child much as I did, against her will. That was my hope.”

“But to learn he was the famously evil Henry Holmes… Not quite an ordinary cad.”

“Did you believe her? I am not certain she spoke the truth. Her flair for the dramatic— Are you afraid for me, George? That I carry his insanity? Or if I was the product of a mortal and a vampire…then I am doubly cursed, am I not?”

“No, I am not afraid. I know you, Lil, you are not insane. I simply wanted to make certain you understood everything Marie—”

“Never use that name again!”

“Everything she said.”

Lillian sat on the bed and took his hand. “Would you rob me of this most happy day, George? I have my son. What came before…it is horrific beyond anything I could have dreamt up in my fantasies. Worse than anything Mr. Doyle or Mr. Stoker could have written. But this is my story, and I survived it all. I have two choices, do I not? Be a slave to my parents and risk never living, or something else. Mustn’t I put aside the past now that Jack is in my care?”

George nodded, surprised that she was so matter of fact, hoping that he was indeed covering already trodden ground. “I simply do not want these ghosts to haunt you forever. I think it sometimes best to exorcise them, lest they come calling later on.”

“But you believe it to be my choice—to carry on or to be ruled by the past.” The statement was in some part a question. A hope.

“My dear Lillian,” he agreed, “I cannot imagine that I could truly persuade you to do anything you do not want, even if I desired it. It is certainly your choice. And…there is something else.”

“My medicine.”

“No, please stop worrying about that now. We will come to that in due course. It is the letter I wrote to you. Why didn’t you follow my instructions?”

“Did you really expect us to? You knew we would follow you. Or at least hoped. Phillip said that. Is that all? It is not inhuman to want companionship at dark times, George. Perhaps that is a good thing, to maintain some element of your humanity.” She gave him a small smile. “And yet, you set out to tackle the problem on your own. You do not control as much as you believe, George. You did not make the choice for Phillip and I, and neither did your maker’s bond. So, is that all?”

“But it is a horror! You could have been killed, both of you!”

“But we weren’t, and you aren’t listening. We chose to come. You did not command us. The very opposite, in fact! You may have hoped, imagined, but you did nothing to force the issue. George, now you are searching for ways to make yourself a devil.” She shook her head and patted him on the wrist. “No worries. Phillip and I will not let your heroics go to your head. Certainly Kitty will always cut you down to size. I do wish we could speak to Chauncey. He is a hero as well.”

“I would like the same. I imagine he is long gone from our reach.”

“Now, will you help me with more important matters? We have a very busy few days ahead of us.”

“Might we have a night alone soon?” he asked. Filled with a desperate love for her, he brushed Lil’s hair away from her face. She captured his hand and kissed it.

“I rather thought the idea was that they were
all
to be spent in one another’s company. I’m not well versed in such things…”

He didn’t answer, overcome with a need to make things right for Lil. For himself.

“Lil, you’re not a very good vampire. It seems Vasil is real, and you do go about chatting our secrets for all the world to hear.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You have to do better. I know this has been unthinkably difficult, but you must try—very hard—to do better. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I will try. Goodness, George!”

Is she ready? Am I ready?
He wondered in silence for a few moments.

“Because,” he continued, “I will no longer be able to stop you from making mistakes. God knows I’ve not done well so far.” George closed his eyes and held his breath. “It is too soon, I’m sure it’s too soon. But I must do this. It’s a terrible burden. Please don’t leave me, Lil.”

“What?” She looked confused. “What are you talking about?”

He pulled her close. “I release you.”