Tommy Nightmare (Jenny Pox #2) (28 page)

The clerk was a woman in her forties or
fifties who looked at them suspiciously, until Seth touched her arm
and healed any little aches or pains she might have had. Then she
smiled and flirted with him while she showed them to their
suite.

“Each item of furniture you see is a genuine
Southern antique,” the lady explained. “Most of them antebellum.
But your bathroom is one hundred and two percent modern. The shower
has a heating-stone floor, and it’s big enough for two.” She winked
at Seth and giggled.

“Okay, thanks,” Seth said. He tipped the
lady, as well as the big quiet bellman who’d carried up their
suitcases, and the hotel employees finally left.

“Whew! I’m pooped.” Darcy sat on the couch in
the sitting room. She looked out the huge glass doors to the park
and the dancing crowd outside.

“You really picked a great place.” Seth
pushed open the wide glass door to the balcony, letting in a rush
of summer moonlight, music and salty ocean air. “We could watch the
whole concert from right here. I’m amazed they had a room.”

“I guess anything can be arranged,” Darcy
said.

Seth looked at her, curious. That wasn’t a
very Darcy thing to say, unless Darcy had copied it from Ashleigh.
Then he got distracted by his Blackberry phone playing a sample of
Dr. Dre. Wooly was calling.

“Hey, man,” Wooly said. “Got your text. Where
you at?”

“It’s called the Mandrake House. It’s on
Battery, right across from the park.”

“Holy crap, we’re like a block from there.
We’ll be there in a second. Hope you’re ready to get
waaaayy
-sted!” Wooly sang the last word.

Wooly arrived with Steven Hunter (whom Wooly
called “Skunker”) and Adam Branderford (“Aces”), both guys who’d
gone to Grayson. Adam had just finished his first year at
Charleston, and his first year as a Sigma Alpha brother.

“What’s up?” Wooly pounced on Seth, knocking
him to the couch and scrubbing his head with his knuckles. “Who’s
ready to slurp up the mad titty-tang tonight, huh, bro?”

“All right, enough, man,” Seth said. He shook
Wooly loose and greeted the other, calmer guys.

“Let’s get crunk, stunk and locked in the
trunk.” Wooly unscrewed a thermos, sucked down a shot of vodka, and
passed it to Steve. Darcy walked from her bedroom out to the
sitting room, and Wooly’s eyes widened when he saw the pregnant
girl. “Oh, whoa, the record stops,” Wooly said. “Hey, Seth? Is this
your girlfriend?”

“No, this is Darcy,” Seth said. “She’s down
here for orientation. Just a friend. Darcy, this is Wooly, Steven,
and Adam—”

“Okay, good,” Wooly said. “Because I was
about to say, Seth, dude, you gotta wear a helmet when you play
ball. Anyway, we gotta roll, because we got some very non-pregnant
bitches waiting out there. Darcy, nice to meet you, Seth…” Wooly
made clicking sounds with his tongue while pointing back over his
shoulder at the door.

“Darcy’s coming with us,” Seth said.

“He said what?” Wooly asked the other two
guys.

“No, it’s okay,” Darcy said. “My feet are
killing me. I’m just gonna hang out here, you know, find a nice
place to read a book.”

“That is so interesting,” Wooly said. He
grabbed Seth’s arm. “Come on. Time to get funky now.”

“Call me if you need anything,” Seth said to
Darcy, while the other guys dragged him out of the room.

“I’m good right here.” Darcy winked. The
heavy old door closed, locking her inside the room.

The night Seth and Darcy left town, Jenny had
her last dream of Euanthe.

In the dream, Euanthe walked through the open
plaza of the agora, where trade was no longer conducted. Bodies
burned on top of a pyramid of wood, and more families were carrying
their dead to the fire. The sick filled the temples and the
streets, groaning, begging for water and coughing up dark bile.
Bloody pustules oozed from their faces and hands, and their fevered
and shrunken bodies radiated heat.

So many were sick that no one remained to
take care of them, and most Athenians had shut themselves away in
their homes, filled with panic at the outbreak of plague, praying
to their household gods to protect them.

Only Euanthe did not fear the plague.

She walked past the countless victims and out
of the city along the North Wall. This was one of the walls that
made the city impenetrable to King Archidamus, stretching all the
way to the sea. But she was a weapon that could slip past the
wall.

It was a long walk back to the port of
Piraeus, forty or fifty stadia. A smuggler waited there to carry
her away from Athens and back to her king.

The dream melted forward in time. Now,
Spartan hoplites with plumed helmets and bronze shields escorted
her again to the tent of King Archidamus, whose army still ravaged
Attica, the land on which Athens depended for her agriculture.

It was a cold night, and Euanthe’s hair was
still damp from the sea. The fires of the army camp were a welcome
sight to her.

Euanthe entered the king’s tent.

Archidamus sat on a lion-footed chair,
reading a scroll. More scrolls were stacked on the table at his
elbow.

He smiled at Euanthe when she entered.

“We have reports of plague within Athens,”
the king said. “The entire city trembles in terror, on the verge of
collapse.”

“It is my plague that ravages them.”

“And what of Pericles?”

“He still lives,” Euanthe said. “I released
the plague in his household, at a banquet, but he has not fallen
ill. I do not know why he survives.”

“It cannot be that the goddess favors him,”
Archidamus said. “Perhaps she is only toying with him.”

“Others within Athens plot against Pericles,”
Euanthe said. “Like the man to whom I was sold. Cleon.”

“Then the goddess preserves him so that he
may suffer this treachery.” Archidamus looked her over and smiled
again. “Are you well? How have you endured?”

“I am cold,” Euanthe said. “And very
hungry.”

The king called in one of his guards.

“Timon,” King Archidamus said, “Bring the
girl bread and meat.”

“Should we raise a tent for her, as well?”
the hoplite named Timon asked.

“No,” the king said. “She will sleep here in
my tent, under the direct protection of the king.”

Both Euanthe and Timon looked at him with
surprise.

“Bring an officer’s cot for her,” Archidamus
ordered. “And several of our least filthy fleeces. Hang a curtain
there for her.” He gestured at the corner of his tent. “Tell the
men to treat her as they would a member of the royal family, and to
never touch her, or the curse of the goddess will fall upon
them.”

Timon departed.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Euanthe
said. “And your protection.”

“My protection?” Archidamus laughed. “My
girl, you are here to protect me. I have enemies among my own
people, as Pericles does in Athens. I charge you with the task of
striking any who strike at me.”

“Yes, my king,” Euanthe said.

“I am sorry it came to this.” Archidamus
poured wine into a wooden cup and passed it to her. Euanthe drank,
and it warmed her inside. He drank right from the skin, then wiped
his purple lips. “I love the man Pericles, I truly do. He was a
great leader in his time. But I have seen him grow addicted to
empire, ambitious to rule all of Greece, all of the Aegean, all of
Persia. And his people, his democracy, they support this. What we
have done—what you have done, Euanthe—is necessary for all of us to
live in peace.”

Four young hoplites entered, and one
presented Euanthe with a plate of bread and mutton. She ate
quickly.

The men constructed her bedroom at one side
of the king’s tent, a cot piled high with sheepskins and a curtain
wall.

When they left, the king spoke again.

“I suppose we have raided and pillaged enough
for one war season,” Archidamus said. “We can leave Athens to rot
in its plague. We must return to Sparta for the harvest.”

“My king,” Euanthe said, “I thought you meant
to invade Athens. Was that not my purpose, to prepare it for
conquest?”

“Your purpose was to bring it to ruin. Athens
no longer births great men. When Pericles falls, Athens will be
ruled by rats like Cleon, and the Athenian empire will rot and fall
from within.”

“But you are pleased with me?”

“By every god, yes, dear girl. In Sparta, you
will have a place in my household. I need your capabilities in my
hands.” He laughed. “I can hardly have you running around the city
unwatched. Now go and sleep. I must speak with my men.”

Euanthe hurried to lay in the bed. The
curtain blocked out the light from the oil lamps, leaving her in a
warm and comfortable darkness.

King Archidamus discussed with his officers
their plans to break camp, steal anything that was worth stealing
in Attica, and return home to Sparta.

Euanthe didn’t mind all the men’s loud voices
as she fell asleep. She felt safe here. The king knew her purpose,
and it was an important one. She had found her place in the world,
where the goddess Aphrodite Areia intended her to be.

She thought of the king’s dark, mirthful eyes
and careworn face, and how gently he spoke to her, though he was
hard and brusque with his men. A deep peace fell over her, and she
slept.

Jenny spent Saturday afternoon sculpting some
new pottery, listening to the
Highwayman
record by Willie
Nelson, Kris Kristofferson, Waylon Jennings, and Johnny Cash. The
song “Highwayman” made more sense to her now than it ever had.

“I’ll be back again, and again…” she sang
under her breath, as her fingers worked to create form out of
clay.

The phone rang. Jenny grabbed a rag and used
that to pick it up, since her fingers were coated and wet.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Jenny, it’s Darcy.”

“How’s Charleston?”

“Good, it’s pretty cool. Seth’s off touring
the business school or some junk. This place has all kinds of
historical stuff. Did you know it’s the thirteenth-oldest college
in the country? I wonder if that’s bad luck, being thirteenth?”

“I hope not,” Jenny said. “There’s enough bad
luck in the world.”

“Anywho,” Darcy said, “We’re just, you know,
orientating.”

“What’s Seth been doing?”

“Oh, he hung with some of his old school
buddies last night. They seem nice.”

“They do?”

“Well, maybe cause I’m pregnant. You know how
everybody’s nicer to you when you’re pregnant?”

“Okay,” Jenny said. “But he hasn’t…done
anything?”

“Like what?”

“Like hang out with girls, or anything like
that?”

“Oh, I don’t think so. Those guys act like
pigs. I don’t think any girl would go near them.”

Jenny laughed.

“So, here’s why I’m calling,” Darcy said.
“I’ve been feeding Ashleigh’s dog Maybelle, you know? And I forgot
to do it last night before we left. So she’s probably really hungry
by now.”

“You want me to take care of Ashleigh’s
dog?”

“I know you and Ashleigh didn’t get along,”
Darcy said. “But it’s not the dog’s fault. She’s not Ashleigh’s dog
anymore. She’s just a lonely dog with nobody to take care of
her.”

Jenny sighed. “Okay, I’ll feed Maybelle. How
do I get in the house?”

“The key’s under a fake rock next to the
basement door,” Darcy said. “I know cause I used to do everything
when the Goodlings went out of town. Feed the dog, clean the
aquarium, mop, dust—”

“Fine,” Jenny said. “Just keep Seth out of
trouble, okay?”

“Will do. Cheerios.” Darcy hung up.

Jenny opened the back door. Her dad was in
the back yard, rebuilding a window-mounted air conditioning unit
for somebody.

“Who was on the phone?” he asked.

“Darcy. She wants me to go feed Ashleigh
Goodling’s dog while they’re out of town.”

“Seth liking the school?”

“I guess. I haven’t talked to him.”

Her dad straightened up and rubbed his back.
He wiped sweat from his forehead and looked at her. “Jenny, what
are you planning to do?”

“Feed that dog, I guess.”

“I mean in the big picture of things.”

“I don’t know. Seth wants me to go to
Charleston, but that seems dangerous for me, with all them people.
And I know his parents don’t want me with him.”

“What do you want?”

“I don’t know. I want to get out beyond this
town, but where I don’t have to worry about the pox. Like that
Appalachian Trail. You can go slow and hike it for months. That
sounds nice, doesn’t it? Just walking on and on through the woods,
seeing new things every day.”

“It does,” he said. “You could do that.”

“I’d have to do it by myself.” Jenny
shrugged. “What do you think I should do?”

“Jenny, you done killed half the town,” her
dad said. “You are way beyond anything I understand. And that’s the
truth.”

His words hurt her feelings, but he was
right. Jenny walked back into the house, thinking about the dead
bodies she’d left on the town green. Then her dream, the ancient
city filled with the sick and dying. She felt ill, and confused,
and very alone.

Later, Jenny pulled into the driveway of
Ashleigh’s house. The evening shadows were already long and
dark.

As soon as she got out of the car, she felt
like she was being watched. She looked around the cul-de-sac. It
didn’t look like anybody was home at any house, and one even had a
FOR SALE sign in the front yard, which had nearly been swallowed by
high weeds.

Jenny walked around to the back yard. It was
very secluded, surrounded by old trees with sprawling limbs. A big
dry crater yawned open where the duck pond used to be. She hated
how isolated and alone she felt, along with that feeling of an
invisible eye staring at her from somewhere.