“It’s all right, Daddy,” Maude said. “It’s all right, I got you.” It all fell on her like a wall collapsing under too much weight, the trial, the Sons, Typhon, her father, her baby. Maude wept with her father, and he held her as tightly as his trembling arms would let him. Martin sniffled and fought back the tears long enough to speak.
“I never thought any of those things about you,” he said. “I know how strong you are, how capable, how unafraid. You have her in you, and she was all those things. She was always stronger than me, Maude. She ignored my ignorance and my stubborn pride. She forgave me for all the times I hurt her, and I did hurt her, just like I hurt you.” The wracking sobs came again, his soul pouring out of him, all the pain he could no longer hold in.
“It’s okay,” Maude whispered to him. “I hurt you too. I said such awful things to you, did such awful things. I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you, Maude,” Martin said. “When I came to after they had hurt me, I had this horrible notion that I was dying and that the last thing you’d ever remember of me was how terrible I was to you.”
“No, no, Daddy,” Maude said, her chest shuddering with each sob; she had no control over her body now, didn’t want to. “You’ve always been good to me.”
“No,” Martin said. “I have not. I tried to hold you back, hold you down. I just wanted to have a chance to explain to you, but I was too damn proud, too angry and hurt. A man doesn’t explain his feelings, he just acts; a man doesn’t express his love, he does what his loved ones need. You’re expected to act sure, confident, capable, even when you don’t have a damned idea in your head what you’re going to do, or how. To admit fear, to show it, or talk about it, makes you a weakling. I stumbled around so afraid of words, of seeming weak, that I almost lost the chance to ever explain it to you, to get the words out of me.
“I tried so hard to do what I thought was right by you, not what you wanted. When we lost your mother, when I lost Claire…” He fell into sobbing again, fighting to get the words out past all the withheld pain, decades of sealed-away sorrow. “All I had left of her was you, and part of me was so angry at you. I blamed you for her dying; that festered in me, an unreasoning hatred of this tiny, innocent little person. I didn’t have anyone to talk to about it. I didn’t have any one to counsel me. I prayed to God, but if He had wisdom for me, I was too dull to understand it.”
Martin caught a good breath, and wiped his eyes and his nose. He looked into his daughter’s eyes. “So I threw myself into the work, the damned work. I stayed away from you, because I didn’t want to poison you with my anger, and because I didn’t know what to do with it. I provided, whatever the hell that even means. I gave you security and wealth and a long line of women to give you love and attention, because I was too damn selfish in my grief to let it go.”
“Daddy,” Maude said, sniffing and wiping her own eyes now, “no, I always felt your love, I knew you loved me.”
“But you felt the hate too,” Martin said, “and that made the chasm between us grow. Parents and children … we can wound each other so much, in a million different ways, never meaning to.”
Martin had exorcised the tears but his voice was still low, still croaking. He still held onto his daughter as tightly as he was able. “Every day I saw more of Claire in you, and I came to realize that she lived on, in you. But then I became so frightened of losing you, of losing the last, best part of her, of me, all over again. I let that fear drive me. Even when I knew, I saw that you were strong enough to make it on your own, that you were doing a fine job of raising Constance out in the middle of nowhere. You never needed Arthur, you never needed me. I just got afraid of losing you. I did the same thing to your mother, she was just strong enough, and she loved me good enough, to ignore it.” The tears came again, a gentle rain now, instead of a shuddering storm. “Her love was always the best part of me, and I hurt her so many ways, so many stupid, prideful ways. I’m sorry, Maude, I’m so sorry.”
“Daddy, it’s all right,” Maude said. “I should have known, but I let my own feelings, my own emotions, my own anger, cloud my vision. I can read a stranger on the street’s intent, their history, just with a glance, but I was blind to you. I’m sorry too.”
“If I had left you two alone,” Martin said, “Constance would be safe now with you, back in Golgotha, instead of in the hands of those bastards.” A sharpness came back into his voice.
“I know where they’ve taken her, Daddy,” Maude said. “She’s in London. I’m going after her tonight. I’m going to get her back.”
“Maude, it’s too…” Martin began to say, then stopped himself. “Very well. I’d come with you if I wouldn’t just slow you down.”
Maude shook her head, “Nonsense,” she said. “Nothing will ever slow you down, Daddy. I know you. I think I might be able to help you with your injury.” She ran her fingers along his spine, gingerly. “Please be still.”
Maude found the problem; it was one of his lumbar vertebrae. It was cracked, badly out of alignment, and crushing the cord. She was unable to tell how badly the cord had been lacerated. “Daddy,” Maude said, “I can try to fix what’s keeping your legs from working.”
“Maude?” Martin said. “How? You’re no physician, dear.” Maude took a deep breath before she spoke. She remembered her mother’s words, her promise.
“Daddy, I can do things. I have skills and abilities that might seem … preternatural. I can know people’s secrets, I can go anywhere, I can heal, I can harm, I can make a difference in this world, and so much more than that. Gran taught me. I’m the latest in a long line of Cormac women who have learned their secrets. I’ve been learning how to do these remarkable things since I was nine. I’ve kept them secret my whole life, because Gran said people would not understand, that they might turn on me, think me some kind of freak.
“I’m trusting you with my secret, with my heart, the same way you just trusted me with yours. I always wanted to show you, to tell you. I was just afraid of how you’d react, what you’d do and say. I was afraid I’d lose you, drive you away. I’m not afraid anymore.”
Martin looked confused, but he nodded. “I thought I remembered seeing you brawling with those blackguards who attacked us in the coach. I thought I was delusional from the concussion.” He looked at his daughter’s beautiful face. Saw her waiting, holding her breath. “Gran Bonnie, eh? Your mother once said she had been given an opportunity to learn some old family traditions from Bonnie, but she had just found out she was going to have you, and had told her she couldn’t. She said between me and her work with the suffragettes, when would she find the time?
“I always felt your mother regretted a little not taking your Gran up on the offer, but only a little. When she did mention it, she said that she was doing her part of the family tradition through her work, and that she wanted to spend every possible second she could ensuring a better future.” Martin smiled at Maude, and took her hand, squeezing it. “She would be so happy, and so proud of you, following in Gran’s footsteps, and in hers. I don’t have to understand what you do, or how, or even why, Maude. I know you, and I do trust you. You’re strong like her, Maude, fearless like her.”
“I’m so proud to be your daughter,” Maude said. “Most men, most people, couldn’t face the things inside and let them out after so long.” Martin shook his head.
“I swore if I got the chance,” he said, “I’d try to make it right.”
Maude adjusted her fingers slightly and moved to a position with better leverage. “Let me try to help you now. This may make things worse, Daddy,” Maude said.
“I trust you,” Martin said. “I truly do, Maude, with my life. Do it, I’m ready.”
Maude slid her finger to the proper spot as she felt the blood move about in her body, strengthening her arm, wrist and finger greatly. She increased the sensitivity of her sense of touch dramatically, so that she could feel the ridges and the hairline cracks on the vertebrae through Martin’s clothing and skin.
She located the exact spot she needed.
“Here we go,” she whispered. “I love you, Daddy,” and pushed the vertebrae in and up with a soft crunch.
Martin gasped in pain and his eyes rolled back in his head. “I love you, too, darling,” he muttered as he slipped into unconsciousness. Maude examined her father’s spinal cord and found it felt as though it were still intact. Only time would tell how much of a difference her ministrations would make. She kissed him on the forehead and lifted Martin, carrying him to his bed.
When Martin awoke, the light in the room was dimmer. Maude was on the floor, to the side of the bed, crossed-legged and facing the open windows; the white translucent curtains billowed around her and she was bathed in the diminishing light. “What time is it?” he asked. Maude seemed not to hear him for a moment and then she opened her eyes and fluidly rose off the floor.
“It’s almost five,” she said. “How do you feel?”
“Better,” he said. He looked down at his legs and feet. They didn’t move.
“It may take time and work,” Maude said, “but what I did was successful.”
“You need to be away soon on the evening tide,” Martin said. “I can arrange for one of my ships to take you to London right away.”
“Thank you,” Maude said, “but I’ve discovered a faster route. Daddy, there is one thing you can do that would help a great deal.”
“Name it,” Martin said.
“Telegraph your people in London, have them make inquiries about an Alexandria Poole and any business she may be undertaking. There’s a ship called the Caliburn, she’s the owner…”
“Yes,” Martin said, “I know. Her father was the late Sir Dewyin Poole, a very powerful man in trade all over the globe. I’ve been in business with the Pooles since you were a baby, Maude. Are you saying that Dewyin’s daughter is the one who has Constance?”
Maude nodded. “We need to know everything we can about the Pooles,” she said. “Maybe we can find out where they are holding Constance or if they’ve moved her out of London, get an idea of where.”
“I’ll telegraph my people and have them put their best men on her trail,” Martin said.
“Tell them to be very careful,” Maude said. “This woman is very dangerous, and she will most likely pick up that she is being watched and followed.”
“I will,” Martin said. “I wish I was going with you, dear. I should be.”
“You have a better chance for your spine to heal properly if you rest,” Maude said. “You are going with me, in all the ways that matter. I love you.”
“I love you too,” Martin said. “I meant what I said in those papers. I want you to have everything, dear. You are more than capable of handling our family business, obviously even more than I already suspected.”
“I’m beginning to think the Anderton family business might actually be getting into vast amounts of trouble,” Maude said, smiling. “Daddy, I have no inclination to run an international shipping empire. I’m happy with what I have back in Golgotha.”
The thought of getting to go home, to go back to Golgotha, filled Maude with an odd bittersweet feeling. All of that life seemed so impossibly far away.
“You really love that horrid little town, don’t you?” Martin asked. “More than all the beautiful manors and the fine things here in Charleston, more than the harbor?” Maude’s face lit up and Martin smiled. “Ah, you loved that harbor. As a girl you dreamed of sailing out on every ship, of having grand adventures, and being the captain of your own vessel. I used to try to dissuade you from all that as best I could.”
“Oh, I remember,” Maude said.
“Truth be told,” Martin said. “I had the exact same daydreams as a boy. Your grandfather, rest his soul, used to tell me only guttersnipes and paupers crewed a ship, and I didn’t give a damn, any more than you did.”
“When we get you up and out of that bed,” Maude said, “we’ll go sail together. I’d love that.”
“Yes,” Martin said, “so would I. Now,” he said, taking his daughter’s hand and holding it tight, “let’s go get our girl back.”
28
The Chariot
Charleston, South Carolina
June 15, 1871
It was to be the final meal at Grande Folly before leaving with the evening tide to pursue the Daughters who had taken Constance. Isaiah made enough food for an army and Maude ate enough for an army. She was still dressed in the casual, and somewhat scandalous, garb of her Gran’s pirate days. Isaiah, Alter, Arabella and Amadia also ate prodigiously. The conversations were scattered, slipping between pleasantries, nervous humor and catching everyone up on what had been transpiring.
“I have run into one wall after another trying to find where the government men took those odd corpses,” Alter said. “I took the precaution of burning the bodies of the ones that accosted you and Isaiah here at Grande Folly, with Amadia’s help, of course.” Arabella paused in bringing a forkful of food to her lips and looked across the table at the reporter. Cline blushed a bit. “My most profuse apologies, madame! I know it’s not proper table conversation.”
“No, no, it’s quite all right,” Bella said, dabbing her lips with a napkin. “My association with our charming hostess,” she raised a glass of wine and nodded to Maude, who did the same, “has left me with a whole new appreciation for all manner of ghoulish topics outside the sphere of jurisprudence.”
“Not that jurisprudence isn’t without its grotesqueness,” Maude added.
“Too true,” Bella said. The two clinked glasses.
“You seem to have adapted well to all the shocking revelations you’ve been privy to the last few months, Mrs. Mansfield,” Alter said. “Secret societies, monster-men running amok amongst us, ancient gods of evil risen. You’ve handled it a sight better than I, madame. Bravo.”
“It has been eye-opening to say the least, Mr. Cline,” Bella said. “I assure you, had you seen me the first time I came upon my client, tending her battle wounds after the altercation with the monsters trying to accost her father and daughter, or after Maude tried to explain to me the agencies attempting to do harm to her and hers, you would have seen me most agitated. However, I was taught by my brother that fear and confusion are the enemy of any lawyer worth their salt, so I persevered.”
“A cool head in every crisis,” Maude said. “Thank you, general.”
“Thank you,” Arabella said. “You gave me the opportunity of a lifetime.”
“Hopefully you will practice again,” Amadia said. “It is quite an accomplishment.”
“Well, if you find yourself in the kind of trouble I anticipate you will in merry olde England,” Bella said. “I hope to get to be the first woman to practice law in an English court.”
“Here is to you bailing us out,” Amadia said, raising her glass to the lawyer.
“Any word from your people in London?” Maude asked Amadia as she drained her wine.
“They said no such vessel has yet arrived at any known port in or around the city,” the African Daughter replied. “Of course Alexandria could have her own private port, or even a secluded section of beach to use as a port.”
“We’ll stay optimistic and hope they haven’t gotten to England yet,” Maude said.
Isaiah examined his pocket watch. “Maude, it’s time. You must be getting under way.”
Maude stood from the table. “I’d like to show you all something,” she said. She led them upstairs and down the hall to one of the guest bedrooms. She unlocked the door with an odd-looking key she wore on a leather cord around her neck. The bow of the key was in the shape of a tree with five bare branches.
Maude also wore an old chain about her neck. The links of the chain were flat and made of dull, crudely forged iron. Attached to the chain was a small vial, about five inches long, wrought of the same dull iron as the chain, as well as inlaid with smooth yellowed bone. The flask was enmeshed in a filigree web of silver wire. The vial was capped with a plug cut fr
om a blood-red ruby the size of a large man’s thumbnail. It was the flask Gran had given her long ago, the flask she and Constance and Gran had all drunk from, that she had emptied to save the world and doom the Daughters. It was the Grail of Lilith.
“Isaiah and I both used to wonder why this room was never used by a guest during all the years that Gran lived here,” Maude said as they entered the room. It had an old and worn Persian rug on the floor and a grand four-poster bed with a full canopy that took up most of the room. The windows were shuttered and the only light in the room was the oil lamp Maude carried. The room still held the heat of the sweltering June day, even though the sun had set about an hour ago.
Once everyone was in the room, Maude closed the door and locked it again. “This may sound odd,” she said, “but everyone climb on the bed, please.” Alter, Arabella and Amadia looked at each other, then sat on the bed. Isaiah chuckled at Maude and climbed on as well. Finally, Maude found a spot on the crowded bed near the headboard.
“Umm, this seems … cozy,” Alter muttered. “A little after-dinner spooning?”
Isaiah turned his head to the young reporter. “Don’t presume to be the big spoon in this arrangement, Mr. Cline.”
“I … that is to say, I … oh, of course not,” Alter stammered.
Maude ran her fingers across the headboard, then stopped, finally satisfied that she had found what she was looking for.
“It’s designed so that only someone with an exceptional sense of touch, like a Daughter of Lilith, could come across it,” Maude said. There was a barely audible click, and the bed lurched and began to sink into the floor.
“What the hell?” Alter exclaimed.
“It’s a mechanism,” Maude said as the bed descended shakily into what was a constructed concrete shaft. There was the rattle of chains and the clink of metal on metal. “These chains connect to stabilizing pins that control the descent.” The sound of her voice was dulled by the thick walls.
The elevator shaft gave way to looming stalactites as the bed platform descended through the ceiling of a large natural cave below the manor house. Cool, moist air wafted around them. Maude’s lantern gave off a small circle of light as they continued to descend to the cave floor via a steel tower that formed a cage around the bed platform, visible now that they had exited the shaft. The bed slowed with a rattle and creak of chains and finally stopped. Everyone climbed off the bed and looked around as well as the light from Maude’s lantern allowed them.
The Queen of Swords Page 33