Souls Aflame

by Patricia Hagan

  When she had put on her dressing robe, this one thick and not at all revealing, Julie stepped from behind the screen. Gordon was standing next to the bed, and he held up a dress to her, a triumphant expression on his face.

  Julie was horrified. She took one look at the gaudy, revealing dress and turned away, repelled. “I can’t wear it. I won’t wear it. It—it’s awful…”

  “Oh, stop behaving like a child,” he snapped, walking over to grip her arm and jerk her toward the bed. “Look at it. It’s stunning. I had it especially made.”

  He held it up once again, and Julie stared at it, her cheeks flaming as she pictured herself actually wearing it. The skirt was made of satin and sequins, but the bodice, if it could even be called a bodice, was created of nothing but bright yellow feathers. And she knew from the way the feather tips curled up and around that they were meant to entwine her nipples, leaving the top of her breasts exposed for all to see.

  Then Gordon gave the skirt a flip, showing her how it would open in the middle when she walked about on the stage, exposing her legs. “The men will go wild,” he said happily. “And when our Gray Devil sees you, he’ll have to have you. It’s going to work perfectly.”

  He laid the dress down carefully, then said, “I’m sending someone up to do your hair. I think tiny yellow feathers to match the gown, entwined in a cascade of curls, will give an added effect, one of elegance. You’re going to be a real charmer tonight, Julie.”

  Silently Julie endured the preparation of her hair, and when she saw herself completely dressed, her pink nipples peeking through the curling feathers, she told herself that it was for the last time. Tonight she could endure anything. She had to.

  When Luther saw her, his eyes flashed fire and he clenched and unclenched his fists. “It’s terrible, isn’t it?” Julie looked at him somberly. “I feel like a whore. I look like a whore. And tonight I suppose I am a whore. So be it. When the sun rises, we’ll be free, won’t we?”

  “You’re damn right,” he retorted sharply. “We’ll make it. I promise. Now put a shawl around yourself for the ride to the saloon. I can’t stand seeing you that way.”

  Veston was leaning against the hitching post as they stepped outside the hotel. “I heard about that fancy dress,” he grinned, picking at his teeth with his knife. “How about giving me a little peek?”

  “Go to hell!” Luther growled, grabbing Julie’s arm and helping her into the waiting carriage. Veston kept on grinning as Luther popped the reins across the horses’ rumps. The carriage began jouncing along down the street.

  “What will you do about him?” Julie wanted to know. “How can we get away without him finding out about it and trying to stop us?”

  “I thought about that. When we dump the Reb’s body, I’m going to bust Veston over the head and leave him lying there. When it’s all over, you pretend to be hysterical. Scream at Fox and tell him you want to be alone, for him to get the hell out. He won’t suspect anything. Then I’ll high-tail it back to the hotel when I figure it’s safe and slip you out. We’ll put plenty of distance between us and him before he ever misses us.” He reached over and hugged her against him. “Don’t worry. A few more hours, and it’ll all be over. For both of us.”

  She prayed that it was so. Oh, God, she prayed so.

  They arrived at the saloon, and Luther ushered her in through the back way. They discussed what songs she would sing, and he explained how, when she returned backstage to catch her breath and take some refreshment, he would seek out the man with the patch over his eye. “That’s the way Fox said I’d know him. That and the fact that he’ll probably be about the biggest man in the place.”

  Julie felt cold with dread. “If it must be done, why can’t you and Veston just do it? Why must I be involved?”

  “There’s no other way. From what Fox told me, the Gray Devil stays with his men, and there’s no way we’d ever be able to lure him away from them for an ambush. And we sure as hell can’t take the whole lot of them on.”

  He ushered her into a small, cluttered room. “This is the only way to do it, for you to set him up for the kill. I’ll go set things up on the stage, and I’ll let you know when we’re ready. Just sing, Julie, and look beautiful. That’s all you have to do. I’ll take care of the details. Try not to think about it.”

  Kissing her forehead, he smiled stiffly. “Think about tomorrow instead, and remember that I love you and I’m going to do my damndest to make you happy.”

  He left her, and she stood in the little room and told herself over and over that it would soon be in the past. All of it. Luther would take her away from the war and its madness. And maybe she could never really love him the way a woman should love her man, but she would be true to him, and do her best to make him happy. She would not let herself think about strong shoulders, a massive, rock-hard chest covered with dark, curly hair through which her fingers loved to dance. Nor would she dwell on thoughts of eyes as dark as the blackest storm, or lips soft and sensuous, teasing her into a wild desire that only he knew how to satisfy. No, she could not let herself think about Derek. Not ever.

  A tear slipped down her cheek, and she knew she was only lying to herself, because with her dying breath she would still remember him and wonder what might have been.

  Maybe he did love me, she whispered aloud in the empty room. Perhaps it was only for a day…or maybe even just a night…but the dreams of what could be…what was…and what might have been…these will last. No one can take them from me.

  “Julie, it’s time.”

  She turned to face Luther, brushed at her eyes with the back of her hand. He gestured at the shawl she still wore. “I’m sorry.” She let it slip away, heard him cursing beneath his breath, then his voice cracked, “Let’s be done with it.” She followed him out of the room.

  When she stepped into the lights, her legs exposed, the feathers curling provocatively around her nipples, the screams and applause of the men were deafening, drowning out the roaring that had begun from deep within her.

  “It’s all right, Julie.” The soft voice came to her despite the wall-shaking din about her. She looked down into Luther’s tender brown eyes, saw his smile, the reassurance he was trying to convey. He held his beloved guitar, his fingers strumming a chord. “It’s all right. I’m here, Julie, always…”

  And she closed her eyes and began to sing.

  Luther was there. He always would be. He was not the man she loved, but she was grateful for his presence, tonight of all nights.

  Chapter Thirty

  “It’s all set. He’s almost foaming at the mouth like a mad dog.” Luther sounded nervous as they left the saloon by the back door.

  He led Julie to the waiting carriage. “All we’ve got to do is get you back to the hotel and into your room. He kept his eye on you all evening. When I eased up beside him and said I could fix him up with you for a certain price, he took the bait.”

  Julie felt as though a shield of ice had completely consumed her body, holding her rigid with the fear of what was to come. She could not speak.

  “It’s going to be over quick.” He gave her a sideways glance of concern as he snapped the reins and started the horses moving. “When it happens, just close your eyes. And keep them closed till you hear the door shut and we’ve got the body out of the room. It might be messy, but—”

  “Stop it!” she screamed suddenly, the sound ripped from her heart. “Stop talking about it, Luther. Just do it. But for God’s sake, quit telling me how it’s going to be.”

  And once she began talking, she could not stop. “I don’t even know what the man looks like. It was dark in there, except for the lights shining on me. I couldn’t see anyone. And I’m glad. Do you hear me? I’m glad. And I want my room in total darkness. I don’t want to see him. I never want to see his face, because if I do, it will haunt me the rest of my life.”

  She dissolved into tears, and Luther snapped angrily, “Stop it, Julie. You can’t be all wilted from cryin
g. He’s liable to suspect something. Now pull yourself together. You’re going to have to talk to him…get things going—”

  “No lights!” She jerked her head firmly from side to side. “I don’t want to look at him.”

  “All right, goddammit, no lights!” He flicked the reins harder, made the horses move faster through the night.

  After a few moments of tense silence, he spoke with tenderness. “I’m sorry. I know what you must be going through, but you’ve got to believe me when I say it’s going to be over quickly, and it has to be done. This man has got to be destroyed. It’s the last act I will perform for the Union before I desert.”

  He sounded sad, defeated, and she was touched. “You really believe in it, don’t you? The northern cause. And you would not be deserting if it weren’t for wanting to take me away from the life I’m being forced to live. You’d stay and see the war out to the end if it weren’t for me, wouldn’t you?” She searched his face anxiously in the shadows.

  He sighed, obviously pained. “Yeah, I guess I would. But I love you, girl, and my feelings for you are much deeper than what I feel for the Union. I’ve made my choice, but I’ve got to do this one last thing. Maybe by helping destroy the Gray Devil, I can live with myself.

  “I shot a deserter once,” he went on hesitantly, as though dreading to tell about it. “It was back in sixty-one, the first battle of Bull Run in July. A young kid, maybe fifteen or sixteen years old, got scared when the shooting started. He turned tail and ran. A friend of mine tried to stop him and stepped in the way of a ball coming from the Rebs that would’ve hit that damn coward. When I saw my friend die because of that kid, I just aimed and fired and shot him right in the back.”

  He shuddered. “I’ve hated deserters ever since. And now I’m going to be one.” He shook his head dejectedly.

  “You can always help me escape and then come back,” Julie murmured, realizing for the first time just what a fierce loyalty he felt toward his government.

  He patted her knee awkwardly. “You seem to forget I’m in love with you, pretty lady, and I want you something awful. I’ve got to have you. I guess I just wanted you to know that you aren’t the only one doing a lot of soul-searching this night. We both have our crosses to bear, don’t we?”

  Julie pulled her shawl more tightly about her. “Yes, we do, but when the sun rises tomorrow, it will be not only on a new day, but a new life as well.”

  “That’s the way to feel.” He tried to sound jovial. “Now, then. Let’s stop this kind of talk. The next few hours are going to be tough, but then it’s all behind us.”

  They rode the rest of the way in silence. Luther turned the carriage over to the boy from the livery stable and led Julie up to her room. “Remember,” he said as he left, his lips brushing hers lightly, “you don’t have to do anything but entice him and make him think you’re all his for the rest of the night. Leave the rest to me and Veston.”

  She walked toward the lantern which was burning on the bedside table and he whispered, “It’s going to make it harder for us if we can’t see what we’re doing. We’re going to have to yank him out of bed before we can knife him, to make sure we don’t hit you instead.”

  “Then so be it.” She turned the lantern down until the room was plunged into darkness. “I’ll take my chances. I refuse to look into that man’s eyes.”

  The sound of the door opening and closing told her that she was alone.

  Walking to the bed to sit down, she wondered how long it would be till the Gray Devil arrived. Then she decided to take off the ridiculous feathered dress. She would wait for him in her dressing gown. That way, she reasoned, she could get things started so it would all be over quickly.

  Her fingers shook as she fumbled with the fastenings on the dress. There was a faint light coming through the window from the street below. She wished for an instant that she had the nerve to just leap from that window and end it all. Dear God, to think she was actually helping a cold-blooded murder take place! It was more than she could bear, and the taste of blood filled her mouth as she bit down on her lip to keep from bursting into tears.

  The soft, almost hesitant, tap on the door made her jump, startled. She could not answer. The tapping was repeated, and this time the sound came from her throat in a squeaky croak as she called, “Come in, please…”

  She turned her back, not wanting to see even his silhouette as he entered. She heard the door open and close softly, the sound of footsteps moving cautiously across the room as he groped for her.

  “I’m here,” she whispered. “On the bed. Here—”

  She felt his weight as he sat down upon the mattress. For a moment he made no move. Then she felt strong, seeking hands touch her hips sliding slowly upward to clasp her breasts possessively. Such big hands…such strength, she thought absently, praying once more that it would all be over quickly…that this faceless, nameless man would become just another memory to obliterate from her life.

  And then he spoke. And it was as though the seas had parted, and the dead were walking out from their sandy, murky bottom, their bodies dripping with clinging weeds and flotsam, bringing back the past, so long ago that it was thought to have been buried forever.

  “At last we meet again, misty eyes.”

  “No—” the sound was a whimper. She tried to shrink away, but his hands upon her breasts kept her pinioned beneath him. “No…no…dear God, no—” She writhed and twisted, sure that this was not real. It could not really be happening.

  His thumbs and forefingers pinched at her nipples painfully, as though he wanted to hurt her deliberately. “I should have known someone as devious and beguiling as you would find a way to survive the ravages of war, Julie, but this did come as a surprise.”

  “Derek! God, no, Derek. Anyone but you!” she cried, trying to claw her way out of the invisible net that had fallen over her, holding her imprisoned. “Please, no!”

  “Embarrassed?” He laughed mockingly. “There’s really no need to be. Just think of me as another customer. I paid a high price for your favors, and I intend to enjoy myself.”

  He moved away abruptly. “I want to look at you. I always did take special delight in seeing your body when we made love.”

  She had no time to protest as he quickly ignited the lamp and the room was bathed in an orange glow. She could see him—the beautiful bulk of him—but then she saw the patch over one eye and she was trying to gain control of her swirling, muddled brain to tell him what was happening. But it was as though she was having some kind of seizure and could not speak. No words could be forced from her twisting, jerking lips.

  He bent over her once again, just as the door opened with a loud crash. Derek whirled around, instantly alert, but froze as he faced the two men who stepped quickly inside. One held a gun, the other, a knife.

  “No!” Julie screamed shrilly. “Luther, no! It’s Derek! It’s Derek. You can’t—”

  Luther’s brown eyes rolled wildly as the realization of what she said washed over him. Derek. The name she had whimpered so many nights in her sleep. The man who he’d felt all along she would love forever. Derek Arnhardt—Ironheart—the Gray Devil.

  “Cut him!” Veston snapped nervously. “Quick. We don’t want no noise, but I’ll shoot if I have to.”

  Stricken, bewildered, Derek’s eyes turned to Julie. “A trap! You set me up—”

  “I didn’t know,” she babbled, terrified. “Dear God, Derek. You must believe me. I didn’t know it was you they were after.”

  Veston gave Luther a nudge, snarling, “Get it over with, dammit, and be quick. Don’t make me have to shoot him. It’s too risky.”

  Derek stood with legs apart, fists clenched, ready for the man with the knife to advance.

  Suddenly Julie was upon her knees on the bed, arms outstretched toward Luther as she pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks, “Please, Luther, don’t do it. You can’t. Just let him go, please—”

  Veston pointed his gun at her as he
hissed, “Get out of the way, damn you, or you’ll get yours too!”

  Without warning, Luther whipped about and sent his knife plunging into Veston’s chest. Derek started forward, but Julie had leaped to her feet, blocking his path. He gave her a shove that quickly sent her sprawling to the floor at the same second that Gordon Fox burst through the doorway, gun in hand.

  Derek froze, facing the weapon which was pointed straight at him.

  “What the hell is going on?” Gordon looked down at Veston’s body in horror. “Goddammit, Luther, what have you done?”

  With surprising calmness, Luther replied tonelessly, “He was going to shoot Julie. You know I couldn’t let that happen.”

  Gordon looked baffled, and his gun hand wavered ever so slightly. Derek leaped for him. Instantly Luther was moving also. The three men came together with almost maniacal screams.

  The gun exploded.

  Julie fought to cling to her sanity as she saw the three melding together. One slumped to the floor. There was a flash of steel as a knife hit its target. Another fell.

  Then she saw it was Derek who was left standing, and he was holding Luther’s bloodied knife. He knelt quickly, lifting Luther’s head in his arms as she crawled forward, the world becoming a mist about her.

  “Why did you do it?” Derek demanded of the dying man, his voice hoarse and face stricken. “You saved my life when you came here to take it. Why? Why?” With anguish, he stared down at the glazed brown eyes.

  Luther’s whispered words were barely audible as he choked through quivering lips, “For Julie…just love her…as I did…”

  His head slumped to the side, eyes staring blankly. The caring, tender expression had been replaced forever by the empty stare of the dead.

  Derek laid his head gently down, then turned to Julie and snapped, “We’re getting out of here. The noise is sure to bring people running.” He lifted her easily into his arms, carried her out of the room down the hallway. Leaving through a door at the end of the corridor, he hurried down narrow steps, moving into the shadows of the night.