Moon Runner 01 Under the Shadow

by Jane Toombs

  The very idea of slavery repelled Sherman but at least the Negroes at Lac Belle were treated decently. Dr. Kellogg cared about them, cared for them, thought of them as humans, not animals. He heard stories about Le Noir that filled him with sickened anger.

  Busy or not, the time of the full moon rolled inexorably around again. On the evening Sherman was to spend the first of his five nights in the cellar, he and the doctor were taking a last stroll around the garden when Andre came running from the slave quarters.

  "Docteur, docteur," Andre cried as he neared them.

  "Come quick, she be bad hurt."

  "You've got time yet," the doctor said to Sherman. "Go with him while I fetch my bag."

  Sherman trotted behind Andre to the slave quarters. Andre stopped before one of the cabins and motioned for Sherman to go inside. As he ducked through the low doorway, a sizzle of blue energy stopped him in his tracks. His gaze flicked over the Negroes in the dimly lighted interior. Two women, a young girl on a cot... He drew in his breath. The child was covered with blood. He plunged into the room and knelt beside the bed.

  The girl, thin and small, looked to be about nine. Her brown skin was ash-gray from loss of blood, her eyes were rolled up into her head. Blood was everywhere, coming, as nearly as he could tell from either the child's vagina or her rectum.

  "What happened?" he demanded as he put his hand on her tiny chest to feel for a heartbeat.

  "From Le Noir," the woman at the head of the cot said. "Her twin carry her here." She nodded toward another child crouched at the foot of the cot.

  Sherman's glance focused for a moment on the girl, sensing she was the source of the blue energy. He had no time to wonder about her, the other girl needed his full attention.

  "She say her sister come crawling all bloody from the master's room," the woman went on.

  "Master mean to take me next," the child at the foot of the cot whispered.

  Horrified, Sherman realized what had happened. Gauthier had raped this child. He called for water and sponged away the blood as best he could to see how badly she was torn.

  He swallowed his anguished rage when he found the perineum, the space between the vagina and the anus, torn in two. He suspected the violence of such a rape must have ripped her insides as well and his heart sank. How could he save her? Dr. Kellogg spoke from behind him. "What's the problem?"

  Sherman's voice shook as he told him.

  "I'll take a look," the doctor said.

  Sherman moved aside. Calming himself, he gently covered the girl's forehead with his hand and closed his eyes, willing his energy into her. There was nothing else he could do.

  "I don't dare examine her internally," Dr. Kellogg said in English. "I'd just cause more trauma. The poor little thing's about bled out."

  As he spoke, the child gave a sigh and Sherman felt her life go. Slowly he took his hand away, his stomach churning with renewed fury.

  "I'm afraid she's gone." Dr. Kellogg spoke in French this time and the two women began to keen.

  Sherman glanced at the dead girl's twin and saw her big black eyes fixed on him. There where no tears in those

  eyes, nor did she utter a sound. Blue energy crackled around her. He recalled what she'd said about Gauthier.

  "We can't send her back to Le Noir," he said to Dr. Kellogg, gesturing toward the girl, "or Gauthier will kill her, too."

  "I'll take her to the house," the doctor agreed. He turned to the girl. "What's your name?" he asked.

  "Mima."

  Dr. Kellogg held out his hand. "You'll spend tonight in the big house."

  She pointed at Sherman. "Does he live there?"

  "Yes, he does."

  Without another word she put her hand in the doctor's. He eased her off the bed to the floor.

  "Get her to safety," Sherman said. "I'll see to the rest."

  "You'd best hurry," the doctor reminded him.

  "I know." His rage urged him to ride to Le Noir and confront Gauthier with the child's abused body but the moon was close to rising and he dare not take the time.

  After the doctor led Mima from the cabin, Sherman bent over the dead twin and wrapped her body in the bloody blanket it rested on. He picked her up. Outside a group of Negroes stood silently watching. Sherman's gaze found Andre.

  "Will you dig her grave?" he asked.

  "Yes, sir. Me, I dig, do you tell me where."

  "Can you find a box to put her in?"

  "Find or make one, sir."

  "I'm taking her to the doctor's surgery. Bring the box to the house first thing in the morning. We'll bury her then."

  A murmur ran through the gathered Negroes. Finally Andre said, "Do you be saying the prayer over her grave, sir?"

  Sherman's eyes burned with tears he was too angry to shed. "I will," he murmured.

  He set off for the house with his sad little burden, striding rapidly, anger simmering in every vein. The sight of the nearly full moon inching over the trees made him increase his pace but he was too wrought up to worry about what might happen to him. One way or another, he'd see to it that Gauthier paid for this.

  He'd almost reached the stables when he sensed, then heard a man or horseback pounding toward him. Moments later, the horse and rider appeared, silvered by moonlight. "Gauthier!" Sherman's challenging cry rang through the night.

  Chapter 12

  Sherman, still carrying the dead girl, sprang in front of Gauthier's horse. Gauthier reined in his black so abruptly the animal reared.

  "Where's the doctor?" Gauthier demanded angrily. "Tell him I've come for my property."

  "Here's your property!" Sherman laid the dead child on the ground and flung open the blanket. Moonlight illuminated the girl's torn and bloody body. "Here she is, you murdering bastard."

  Gauthier yanked a whip from its holder and slashed at Sherman's face. As the lash stung his cheek and temple, Sherman exploded. Red clouded his vision so he saw Gauthier through a crimson mist as he flung himself toward the man, ignoring the gut-wrenching shift inside him.

  The whip slashed Sherman again, the horse screamed and reared in panic, fighting Gauthier's attempts at control. Dogs howled, Gauthier toppled to the ground and the horse bolted. Gauthier scrambled to his feet and faced Sherman, his hand reaching for his holstered gun. He froze, his mouth dropping open.

  "Loup-garou!" he cried--the last words Sherman heard.

  Free! The beast snarled at the man confronting him, a man with a gun. Loaded with silver bullets? Kill or be killed!

  The beast sprang at his enemy. Blood gushed hot into his mouth as his teeth sunk into the flesh of the man's throat, slashing and tearing. When he was certain the man was dead, he backed off, spat out the ill-tasting blood, skirted another body and loped into the moonlit night.

  By the lake he ran down a deer, killed it and feasted. His blood lust satisfied, he heeded the other need throbbing through him. Where was he to find a mate? He threw back his head and howled, a pulsating ululation that momentarily silenced every sound near him.

  He'd called her. Would she answer?

  The beast waited, called once more, received no reply. Finally he slipped away from the lake shore, knowing it wasn't safe to stay in one place too long. He spent the rest of the night alternately calling and searching--to no avail. Near dawn, tired and frustrated, he sought a safe spot to sleep.

  Sherman woke, naked, hearing Jefferson baying. He sensed a man with the dog. Jumping to his feet, he stared panic-stricken at the greenery surrounding him. He'd shifted again and the beast had run free. The last he recalled was Gauthier slashing at him with a whip and screaming, "Loup- garou!"

  Oh, God, Gauthier must have seen him change. What had the beast done? Remembering the pentacle he'd seen on Gauthier's palm when first they met, Sherman grimaced. He didn't need to be told the man was dead, killed by the beast. He couldn't regret the death. If ever anyone had deserved to die, it was Gauthier. But he was as responsible as if he'd killed the man before he'd shifted.

/>   Who was using Jefferson to trail him? Dr. Kellogg?

  Or a hunter on the track of the beast? Could he escape? Sherman scanned his surroundings. He seemed to be on the edge of a swamp--where, he had no idea. Trying to run could very well land him in quicksand again. He'd make a stand here. If another besides the doctor sought him he'd claim he pursued the beast only to be attacked himself.

  Which might explain the blood that stained his hands and, no doubt, his face.

  "Sherman!" Recognizing Dr. Kellogg's voice made him relax slightly.

  "Here," he called.

  Jefferson reached him first, tail wagging, coming to

  be petted as the doctor panted up, hanging onto the end of the long leash and carrying Sherman's clothes.

  "The beast killed Gauthier." Sherman's voice was flat, making a statement rather than asking a question.

  "You might at least say you're glad to see me," the doctor muttered.

  "You know I am. After last night, I don't deserve your kindness."

  Dr. Kellogg shrugged and handed him a wet cloth. "Wipe off the blood and get dressed."

  Jefferson, nose down, was circling the area, obviously searching for the beast's trail that he'd been following, a trail that had ended here. Thank God, Sherman thought, dogs couldn't reason enough to understand he and the beast were one and the same.

  "Did anyone besides Gauthier watch me shift?" he asked as he pulled on his clothes.

  "I'm afraid so. Ponce, for one. Francois. They came to tell me. I can't be sure how many other servants also saw you but are afraid to say so. I've told them all to keep quiet about what happened last night but--" The doctor paused, shaking his head. "Word will leak out. Slaves are great gossips. A rumor spreads from one plantation to another like wildfire. And God knows how many heard you during the night. I did myself. Those were blood-curdling howls, son. No animal I know sounds like that."

  Even though it had been the beast who'd done the howling, Sherman winced. "I might have made the cellar in time if Gauthier hadn't ridden up while I was carrying the dead child."

  "Unfortunate. For both you and Gauthier. He got what he's long deserved. On the other hand, we can't have you punished for his death. I told the authorities a mad dog mauled him and I'd hunt the animal down and kill it today. They accepted the explanation but once stories of you being a loup-garou surface, they'll ask more questions. While they might not believe in shapeshifters, we can't afford to have them suspicious of you."

  Sherman could well imagine being clapped in a jail cell while those in authority waited for the full moon to see if he changed.

  "What it amounts to, son, is that you'll have to leave New Orleans until this all blows over."

  Sherman nodded, his heart heavy. He'd been happy at Lac Belle; he'd felt safe. How could he bear to leave the only man who accepted him for what he was?

  "We've got a long walk back, best to get started." Dr. Kellogg unhooked the leash, called to Jefferson and led the way toward Lac Belle with Sherman walking disconsolately behind him.

  "I've already made plans," the doctor said, waiting for him to catch up. "First, we'll find another name for you just to be on the safe side, should anyone start looking for Sherman Oso. After all, that isn't your true name anyway. Any preferences?"

  Sherman glanced at the doctor. Always practical, always a step ahead of others.

  "You choose for me," he said. "For luck."

  The doctor smiled at him. "How about turning you into a Creole and calling you Nicholas Deplacer?"

  Sherman's lips twitched into a reluctant grin. Deplacer was a French word for shift. "It's appropriate," he admitted.

  "Nicholas shortens nicely to Nick and I imagine that's what they'll call you in Michigan."

  "In Michigan?" Sherman visualized the map of the United States in the Lac Belle library. Michigan was near Ohio, Cump's home state.

  "I have a friend there from my army days. I'll send a letter along with you asking him to help you get settled. Of course, I won't mention the shapeshifting--you'll have to cope with that on your own. I wish we'd had more time to experiment. I'm sure I could have found a solution eventually. Perhaps when this all blows over, you can return for a visit. I'd welcome the chance to do further studies." "I'll miss you." The words couldn't begin to convey Sherman's sense of loss.

  "And I, you. But you've learned enough to be on your own as a physician. You're headed for a frontier community where your skills will be valued."

  Sherman stared at him. Practice medicine on his own? "Don't look so alarmed, son. You're a natural healer, you'll do just fine. Now, about traveling. Obviously you can't leave until the moon starts to wane--four more days, to be safe. The trouble is, rumors will be flying by then. Since we don't wish to draw attention to your leaving, it's best not to be seen in the city. If you ride Rawhide north for a few miles, you can catch an upriver boat at one of the landings. The boat'll take you up the Mississippi to the Ohio River and on to one of the canals that feed into Lake Erie. You'll only have a short trip overland after the canal."

  Sherman had learned enough about the geography of the United States to have a fair idea of the route he'd be traveling to Michigan. He was quite certain he'd get there all right. What would happen then was another story.

  When they arrived at the house, Dr. Kellogg insisted he try to sleep for the rest of the morning. "The Negroes are a superstitious lot and the less they see of you, the better," he added bluntly.

  "What about the twin of the dead girl?" Sherman asked before going to the garconniere. "Did you send her back to Le Noir?"

  The doctor shook his head. "Not yet. Mima's staying in the servant's quarters at the back of the house and doesn't want to leave. Apparently she's an orphan, her twin sister was the only relative she had. She'll have to return eventually, since she's Le Noir property."

  No one was in sight as Sherman walked across the grounds to his quarters but he felt watched by hidden eyes. The feeling grew stronger as he neared the garconniere. With his hand on the door, he held, sensing the crackle of blue energy nearby. Inside?

  He flung open the door. Mima sat on the floor, her dark eyes fixed on him.

  "I be waiting for you a long time," she said solemnly

  as she rose to her feet.

  She was a skinny little thing, her thin legs and sharp features reminding him of a bird. Her black hair, he noted, was clipped almost as short as a boy's.

  "You can't stay here, Mima," he said.

  "I be staying."

  While her sparkling energy intrigued him, he had no

  time to investigate its meaning. Besides, she might be dangerous to him, how could he tell? She was the first person he'd sensed with the blue crackle since he'd left Tia Dolores. And Tia Dolores had been a bruja.

  "My grandmama, she be a voodooienne," Mima said, as though he'd asked her. "My mama tell me before she die I be like grandmama. I got voodoo, I see. Meta, my sister, she don't. Just me. Grandpapa, he be Bras Coupe."

  Sherman had heard of the infamous one-armed escaped slave who'd roamed the swamps for years and was never caught. Even today people claimed to see him now and then, though he'd be nearly one hundred years old.

  "I see Meta, she going to die," Mima went on. "Don't want her to die, I bring her to doctor. You come and I see if I stay with you I don't die. So I be staying."

  "Your master is dead," Sherman said gently. "He can't harm you like he did your sister. You'll be safe at Le Noir now."

  Mima shook her head. "I be safe with you, not at Le Noir. Don't send me back. I die if you do."

  "How old are you, Mima?"

  "Old Polly at Le Noir, she say Meta and me, we pass nine summers."

  "Then you're old enough to understand that you belong to Le Noir. Even if I wanted to keep you here, I couldn't."

  "I could stay do you buy me."

  Sherman sighed. "I can't do that. I won't be here long enough."

  "When you go, I go." Her dark eyes pleaded with him. "Me, I be
helping you."

  Impressed despite himself by her earnest conviction that she belonged with him, he knelt on one knee, bringing himself to her level. "I must travel alone, Mima. But I'll ask Dr. Kellogg to buy you from Le Noir. The Negroes at Lac Belle are treated well. You'll be much safer here than you will with me."

  She shook her head. "You never going to hurt me."

  He stared at her, startled, until he realized she couldn't know what he was--she must mean he wouldn't hurt her in the way Gauthier had brutalized her sister. God knows that was true.

  "I'll speak to the doctor," he repeated. "Right now, you must return to the house. You can't stay in the garconniere."

  He thought she'd argue but she walked past him without a word. By the time he rose to his feet, she'd slipped through the door and was gone.

  The encounter had shaken him. If the blue energy meant anything, her mama might well have been right in saying Mima had inherited some kind of power from her grandmother. He'd felt no uneasiness with her as he had when Tia Dolores was near--he couldn't believe the child was a witch.

  Mima said she saw--foresaw was what she meant. She'd known her sister would die but was that before or after Gauthier raped the poor child? Once Gauthier was through with Meta, it wouldn't take a voodoo seeress to realize the girl was doomed. What ability did Mima have? He'd like to know--those with blue energy were rare.

  He passed that night and the following three in the cellar without changing. By then, aware every servant he met was terrified of him, Sherman was ready to leave.

  The doctor saw him off at dawn after Sherman saddled his own horse, not wanting to upset Ponce by making him handle the loup-garou's belongings.

  "You must write and tell me how you're getting along," the doctor said. "I'm sure you'll manage to let me know about the shifting without your words being obvious to another. It's damned frustrating not to be able to follow the most exciting case I ever came across and, of course, I'll miss your assistance and companionship, too."