A Grave Inheritance

by Kari Edgren

Another long moment passed as he considered my question. Trees loomed just off the path, their remaining leaves rattling in the soft breeze. I stared at their dark outlines, forcing myself to be patient.

  “Selah,” he said at last, “I’ve a confession to make about my previous association with Miss Rose.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

  “I mean that our relationship extended beyond the bounds of normal friendship.”

  James had inadvertently prepared me for the worst while playing the bully on board the Callisto. “Was she your lover?” I asked, my voice surprisingly level.

  “Very nearly, yes, but please listen to me, Selah, before you pass any judgments. Miss Rose came to my attention just over a year ago when she began performing on Drury Lane. I was smitten by her beauty and began to visit the theater whenever I came down from Oxford. After awhile, she allowed certain familiarities to secure my devotion, yet refused to consummate our intimacy until I was willing to show a greater commitment.” He fell silent, appearing to struggle with how best to continue.

  Gravel and dead leaves crunched underfoot as we walked, our steps growing louder each time the conversation lagged.

  “What happened?” I asked, prodding his story along.

  “My father betrothed me to Amelia against my wishes,” he said. “I was very angry and decided then and there to make Miss Rose my mistress. At the time my reasoning seemed sound—if my father was going to force me into a loveless marriage, I would find love elsewhere.”

  “Did you really love her?”

  We were about at the end of the pathway. Townhomes came into view, illuminated by lamps that had been hung outside each door and I realized we were not far from Cate’s. Henry must have realized the same thing, for he stopped walking and turned to face me.

  “Upon my soul, you are the only woman I have ever loved. What I felt for Justine was nothing more than lust. I just didn’t know it at the time. I desired her like I had never desired another woman before, and I confused that emotion for something deeper. James made all the arrangements, furnishing a townhome for her to live and where we could rendezvous whenever I visited London.”

  I put up a hand to stop him. “Please, Henry, I don’t want to hear any more about how you bedded that woman. It happened in the past and I shall not hold it against you.” Though I was glad for his honesty, my heart felt heavy from the story.

  Henry took my hand and pressed it to his chest. “That’s the thing,” he said. “It never happened. The first night we planned to meet, I was traveling alone from Oxford to London. It was then that I came under attack by my cousin’s henchmen and sold to Captain Harlow.”

  “You...you didn’t lay with her?” I stammered, unable to hide my surprise.

  “No, Selah, I did not. I wish I could claim a moral epiphany, but the outcome was the same in the end. Miss Rose and I were never lovers.”

  “But James told me she was your mistress. He made it sound like the affair was long standing.”

  “He told you about her?” he asked incredulously. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “At first because I hoped he was lying. But then I saw your reaction to the playbill the other day, and I didn’t want to talk about it.”

  “I don’t know what has gotten into James of late,” Henry said. “The man is entitled to his own opinion, but I’ll not have him going behind my back trying to hurt you and drive us apart. His behavior is inexcusable and I’m sorry you had to go through that tonight, being forced to watch Miss Rose when you thought we had been lovers.”

  “It wasn’t easy,” I admitted. “Especially with all those come hither looks she kept throwing you. In truth, it was hard not to imagine your previous life together.”

  Henry pulled me closer and kissed my forehead. “You suffered needlessly. Can we agree to have no more secrets between us?”

  “You already know everything about me,” I laughed. “Until you arrived in Philadelphia I hadn’t misbehaved a day in my life, unless you count William Goodwin kissing my cheek behind the barn. What about you, my lord? Anything else need confessing or should I just wait to hear what James has to say next?”

  Henry took a deep breath. “I will not claim to be a saint, for you already know that is far from the truth. But on my honor, there are no other Justines lurking in my past, regardless what James or anyone else may say to the contrary.”

  “What about the future?” I asked, the words spilling out unbidden. “I’ve heard it’s fashionable in London for men of rank to take mistresses once they are married.”

  Henry drew me closer. “You would never ask such a silly question if you truly understood what was in my heart. I belong to you, Selah, body and soul, and that will never change.”

  I was about to return his sentiments when my ears pricked up and a sudden chill ran through my blood.

  Henry felt me shiver and pulled me farther into his arms. “I shouldn’t have kept you outside for so long.”

  I turned and stared into the trees. “Did you hear something?”

  Henry listened for a moment. “Only the leaves rustling. Let’s get you inside.”

  With one last glance into the trees, I took his arm and we started walking again. The graveled path led back to a cobbled road, where I saw Cate’s townhome near the end of the long row. Lamps burned at every door along the road, creating small pockets of warm light in the surrounding darkness.

  A carriage rattled by, briefly impeding our progress. Once on the other side, I watched a young boy emerge from the shadows, walking towards us, his head down and his hands stuffed into the pockets of his short, brown coat. He passed back into the darkness, his little body barely discernible amongst the other shadows. We were still several doors away when he re-appeared, this time in the patch of light directly in front of Cate’s door. He paused at the steps and stared at the enormous townhome. Shuffling his feet, he placed one on the bottom step without going any farther.

  “I wonder what he’s up to,” Henry said.

  “He looks far too young to be out causing mischief at this hour.”

  Just then a girl appeared from the shadows dressed in beggar’s rags and a faded black shawl draped over her head. She looked more specter than human, and unease crept over me as she moved with soundless steps behind the boy. His body tensed, and he swung around, tilting his head up to face her. Fear flooded his eyes. He opened his mouth to scream when she touched his cheek, and he slumped silently to the ground.

  “Merciful saints!” I cried

  The girl looked around, and my blood turned to ice. She barely glanced at us before disappearing into the darkness.

  Henry started running, pulling me alongside him. The boy lay curled on his side, his breath coming in strangled gasps. Henry dropped on his knees beside him. “Sounds like he’s having a fit. That girl must have scared him senseless, and no wonder, a small lad like him out alone at night.” He reached out to turn the boy over. “You’ll be all right...” he started, then suddenly jerked back. “Get away, Selah, he’s covered in pox!”

  Henry should have known me better. I immediately knelt down, taking the boy’s hand. It burned with fever, the skin covered front and back with angry red bumps. Glancing at his face, I saw more red bumps running from his hairline to where the skin disappeared beneath a dirty linen shirt. His chest strained and wheezed for each breath. “That’s impossible,” I said. “He was just fine a minute ago.”

  Henry took off his coat and placed it over the boy. “You shouldn’t be here,” he told me. “The pox is highly contagious.”

  “What about you,” I snapped.

  “You can heal me,” he snapped back, taking hold of my arm. “But you can’t heal yourself.”

  Regardless of the risks, I was bound by law to help, even if it meant my own death or disfigurement.
“You know I don’t have a choice.” Yanking my arm away, I placed my hands on the boy’s chest and focused on summoning the necessary power. Nothing stirred, not even the smallest hint of warmth. My core felt as cold and empty as an abandoned hearth.

  A wet gurgling noise came from the boy’s throat. His small body convulsed and bloody sputum spilled from his mouth.

  “Dear Lord!” I gasped. “He’s going to die!”

  I closed my eyes in a desperate search for any scraps of power I may have overlooked. There had to be something left, tucked away in the deepest reaches of my core. A spark flickered, then a small flame began to grow, along with the unpleasant prickling sensation I had experienced a few days before. I ignored it, concentrating on keeping the little boy from death’s grasp.

  By sheer will, I forced the fire to life inside me. Its familiar warmth flowed to my fingertips where it quivered for a moment on the surface of what now resembled a near sheet of watery pustules over the boy’s body. I pushed past this first barrier. Thick opaque fluid flashed through my mind, followed by layers of muscles and bone. Arriving deep inside the boy’s chest, I surrounded his failing heart while attempting to heal the inflammation that festered inside his lungs. The other organs would soon begin to fail if the poison was not cleared from his blood.

  Hold on little one...I’ll have you out of the woods yet.

  The prickling intensified. Rather than stop, I had no other choice but to release another small flood of power. Nausea swept through me as the prickling turned to searing nails. I cried out, my focus momentarily broken by the intense pain.

  “Selah!” Henry yelled.

  The boy groaned and his heart began to flutter erratically. I clenched my eyes tighter, and another spark gave life to a small flame. Nails tore at my insides, but I pushed on, knowing that to give in to the pain would mean the boy’s death. More power came to the surface, poured from my hands into his chest. Shaking, I fell forward, the warmth continuing to flow from me like water through an open dyke.

  “Selah! Let go!” Henry yelled.

  Bile hit the back of my throat as the pain ripped through me, threatening to tear me apart. I cried out again, an incoherent plea for help. Strong hands gripped my waist, pulling me up, and then everything turned black.

  Chapter Seven

  All Hallows by the Tower

  The physical world slowly took form around me. I was lying on my back, stretched out on what felt like a soft cushion. The pain and nausea were gone. Warmth had replaced the crisp night air, bathing my skin, trickling through my veins. I felt a gentle rocking motion and realized that someone held my shoulder.

  “Selah,” a woman called, her voice comforting and familiar.

  I ignored her in a bid to reclaim the blessed darkness.

  “Selah,” she called again. “It’s time to come back.”

  Not yet, I thought. It was perfect here—no searing nails or sickness, just warmth and contentment.

  “Selah,” she persisted. “Henry is beside himself with worry. I know you’re awake. Open your eyes before he sends for the surgeon.”

  This last part stirred my attention, and I reluctantly traded the darkness for candlelight and the fire crackling in the hearth. Blinking several times, I saw that I was lying on one of the drawing room sofas. Cate knelt on the floor beside me.

  “That’s better,” she said. “Now drink this.” Without waiting for my consent, she lifted a small bottle to my mouth. The liquid hit my throat, washing away the taste of bile and putting me straight into a coughing fit.

  “What is that?” I spluttered. My throat burned and my insides grew even warmer.

  “A restorative for the nerves. Henry said you fainted outside on the stairs.”

  “Where is he?” I tried to push myself up, but Cate placed a firm hand on my shoulder.

  “Rest a moment longer. I sent him to the kitchen to fetch a cool compress for your head. He was so agitated by your condition that he needed a task to keep him busy until you came around. I thank you for obliging and sparing me the need to invent another task once he returned.” She lifted the bottle back to eyelevel. “Would you like some more?”

  “What’s in it?” I asked, my throat still burning from the first drink.

  “A little skullcap and St. John’s Wort, but mostly just brandy.”

  Henry came into the room and hurried to the sofa where he knelt next to Cate. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “Much better. Cate gave me a restorative.”

  He didn’t say anything more, just stared down at me, his face taut with emotion. His eyes were darker green than I had ever seen before, filled with such a mixture of anger and pain it was difficult not to look away. I swallowed hard and wished not for the first time that I could read his thoughts. Then I would know just how much trouble I was in for healing the boy—if, in fact, I had done so before losing consciousness. For all I knew, he had died at the foot of the steps while I was in here lying so snugly on the sofa.

  Cate took the forgotten compress from Henry’s hand. “This should finish the job,” she said, placing it on my forehead. Her sleeve brushed my nose and I sneezed. “First a fainting spell and now a head cold? Whatever am I to do with you?”

  “It’s not a cold,” I said, sneezing again. “You’ve something on your sleeve.”

  Glancing at her arm, she brushed a hand several times along the material, creating a small cloud of fine white dust. “I shall have to speak with Mrs. Hampton about that new parlor maid of hers. Sweet girl, but the dust grows thicker each time I visit.”

  Henry took a handkerchief from his coat pocket and handed it to me.

  “Thank you,” I said, giving him a tentative smile.

  He remained silent, his own mouth set in a straight line.

  Cate looked between us. “Gracious me,” she said, pushing up to her feet. “It’s getting late and I’ve another long day tomorrow. Henry, do you mind seeing yourself out?”

  “Not at all.”

  “I’ll check on you in the morning, Selah.”

  “Thank you for the restorative. My nerves are much improved.” The brandy had obviously worked its magic, so well that I didn’t even have to force a reassuring smile.

  She smiled in return and left the room. I sat up the moment the door clicked shut. “How is the boy?” I asked.

  Henry gave me a dark look and got to his feet, leaving me in suspense as he went to a side table to pour a glass of wine. Throwing it back, he refilled his cup before returning to the sofa.

  “The boy lives,” he said.

  I gave him an expectant look. “Is he still sick or was I able to heal him?”

  He threw back the second glass of wine. “You healed him, all right. There wasn’t a pox left by the time you were done. He ran off when I carried you into the house.”

  This was somewhat surprising. I never imagined I had so much power left, unless...I pulled in a sharp breath, my hand reflexively covering my mouth. There was no other explanation for the pain—as though I were being torn apart.

  Henry remained standing, his arms now crossed over his chest. “I’m a little new to this healing business, so if you don’t mind, I would like to know what happened out there tonight.”

  We stared at each other, Henry glowering while I struggled to find the right words.”My power is gone,” I started, my voice small and frightened. “I’m not sure for how long now, but at least since I healed your hand.” I wanted to cry. I wanted Henry to take me in his arms and assure me everything would be fine.

  “You’ve still plenty of power,” Henry countered, “or you wouldn’t have been able to heal that boy.”

  I shook my head and a tear fell down my cheek.

  That was enough to break through his anger. He rushed forward, kneeling on the carpet in front of me. Anoth
er tear spilled over, and he brushed it away with the pad of his thumb. “Tell me, Selah. I need to know what happened.”

  “It’s been too long since I last replenished my power. What I used tonight must have come from my own life.”

  Henry gaped at me. “Impossible. You can’t just drain your life for someone else. It defies the laws of nature.”

  My very existence defied the laws of nature. “I’m goddess born,” I reminded him. “The same rules do not apply to my kind.”

  “In that case, I thank God we found out tonight before it was too late.”

  I should have kept my mouth shut, given him a comforting smile and left it at that. “What about next time?” I asked instead.

  “There won’t be a next time. I forbid you from healing until we find a passageway into the Otherworld. Do you understand me? Not even a broken fingernail. I won’t take the risk.”

  I glanced down at my lap, opting to bite my tongue rather than cause him more distress tonight.

  “You’ve no intention to stop, do you?”

  I kept my eyes down and shook my head.

  “Damn it, Selah! How can you be so heartless?”

  My head snapped up and I glared at him. “Do you really think I want to die? That it’s my preference to give up my own life for someone I’ve likely never even met before?”

  “Then why won’t you stop? I’m not asking forever, just until you can replenish your power.”

  The truth was painfully simple. “Because I can’t. I’m bound by law to help anyone in need, regardless of the personal cost.”

  His eyes bore into mine. Seconds ticked on the mantel clock, ten or ten hundred, I had lost all track of time under his gaze. “Think hard about the cost,” he said at last, “for your life is not the only one in danger. If you die, you’ll be killing the both of us.”

  My heart thumped into my throat. His tone, his eyes, everything testified that he spoke the truth.

  But it didn’t have to be like this, a life or death decision. In all my panic, I had forgotten about the altar on Julian’s estate. I only needed to reach it in the next few days, cross over to the Otherworld and then everything would be back to normal. Though I would never leave without first telling Henry. He deserved better than that—he deserved the truth, no matter what promises I had made earlier.