“I called Peter while you were upstairs. Barnaby is unchanged. Peter and Dante are taking turns spending time with him. And two Indebted have joined them and are keeping tabs on both Barnaby and the mortals.”
“They don’t need me, then.”
“Of course you’re needed. But it’s okay for you to rest as well. It’s no use if you’re constantly on vigil. You won’t think as clearly if Barnaby needs you later.”
“You’re right.” In the moonlit glow of the well-kept lawn, the grass and trees took on a grayish-blue color. “You’ve got quite a place here. Such a haven from the world. I remember nights similar to this, sitting on the porch, telling stories, and talking about all manner of things.”
“What was your home like?”
“Before?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know any of my past?”
He paused. “Only that you were a Civil War nurse from Maryland. Barnaby was very tight-lipped about your history. Said it was your story to tell, not his.”
“Sounds like something Barnaby would say.”
Barnaby would also tell her to let go and confide in someone.
Over the years, she had helped physicians cut men’s legs off, nursed countless people through devastating illness, and killed on command. She was good at everything she did, professionally. But letting down her guard was the one thing she had never accomplished since she became Indebted.
Maybe Barnaby was telling her something, even now. A knot formed in her gut, but she pushed it down, hard. Maybe it was time to try to trust.
“I was born in 1834 in Rockville, Maryland.” She began. “I had a typical life for someone with an upper-middle-class upbringing. I played with friends, received education on how to run a house, then attended finishing school in Baltimore to learn how to catch a husband and become a perfect wife and mother.”
“You had mentioned your schooling before. Didn’t you enjoy the course of study?” He took another bite of crepe, the vanilla aroma drifting around her in the still night air.
“Knowing what I do now? No. But that was the only option for women’s education in those times.”
“So was school successful? You found a husband, correct?”
It was impossible not to smile in response to his sheepish grin.
“See, now you’re joshing. But yes, I did manage to snag quite the specimen: William Coe. William Coe the Third, no less. Most eligible bachelor in Rockville, Maryland. Oh, he was handsome enough, had a golden-brown moustache that made all the ladies swoon. He cut a fine figure in his evening best, too. But what attracted women, or more specifically their ambitious mothers, was his pedigree. Mr. Coe came from a long line of English aristocrats who settled in Baltimore. Despite having moved to this country, his family had the means to continue their high-class ways.”
“You sound, how should I say, less than enamored of the lineage?”
“How should I say? I say that the man makes the man, not the money or the breeding. However, as luck would have it, William became infatuated with me during my debutante season. I was eighteen. He was twenty-four. My mother, who always had ambitions of higher status, loved the opportunity to have a descendant of an earl in the family. She jumped at the chance to essentially propel her daughter from landed gentry status to a member of the peerage. Figuratively speaking, of course. Even though it was America, the British Victorian influence remained strong in the upper classes.”
“So did you love this man?”
She paused as emotions churned. In her own way, she had loved him. But with the distance of time, it was obvious that he didn’t return the love. And the care she had for her husband had only gone so deep. “It was a favorable match.”
“That wasn’t my question.” Odie pushed an errant piece of dark hair back off his forehead.
“I loved the idea of being in love. This was the first man who’d truly been in contention for marriage, and I had no comparison. All I saw was a debonair gentleman who lavished attention on me. With Mother’s prompting, I encouraged him, and six months later, we were wed.”
“And then?”
“Then nothing. We lived a harmonious, if not dull, society life together. I tried to be a loving, nurturing wife. It was my life’s work at the time. Then we had two children, Charlotte and then William the Fourth.”
“You and your husband must have been so proud.”
Was that a hard tone underneath his words?
“I loved my son and daughter dearly, and they never wanted for anything. William looked at our children more as an outward demonstration of our satisfactory union and a continuation of his lineage.”
“That sounds cold.”
“It’s practical. Based on the era, that sentiment fell well within society’s expectations. So yes, he was distant but never unkind to the children.”
“And to you?”
“After our son was born, he pulled away from me. My duty to produce male offspring had been completed, right? Of course, in my desire to please and be pleasing to him, I continued to try to love him. And I did love him, in a manner of speaking. But it’s obvious now that was a waste of time. Wishful thinking.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’ll get to that part. The story gets interesting. No more ‘poor rich girl’ anymore.”
He held his hands up. “I didn’t say—”
“You didn’t have to. I said it.” A few steps below her, she crossed her ankles and peered up at the stars. “As the Civil War developed, Maryland mostly went north with the Union. Rockville split more evenly, and each family supported its side as best it could. William took a position of captain in the Army of the Potomac under General McClellan, a big honor. As a dutiful wife, I of course supported my husband wholeheartedly. He had to leave home often for trainings and later to attend strategy meetings. One day in September of 1862, he came home frothing about a campaign coming up soon. He was so excited that he’d lead his own company of the Maryland infantry in a key part of the battle. I got wrapped up in his excitement and wanted to help in any way possible.”
“September of 1862?”
“Antietam.”
“Wasn’t Antietam a bloody battle?”
“That’s an understatement. After he went to war, I disobeyed his express wishes and followed.”
“Let me guess. You were to stay home with the children?”
“Yes, but in my mind, that’s what their grandmother was for. I had met a woman named Clara Barton a few days prior as she loaded up supplies to help with the wounded during the battle. Her passion and drive were contagious. Right then and there, I realized that she possessed what I was missing: a greater purpose, a mission.”
Odie leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “What did your husband say when you left home?”
“Well, he didn’t know at first. So the battle started. Clara and myself and a few other nurses operated out of a barn set apart from the main battlefield, but close enough that the cannonade and rifles hurt our ears. There’s a legend that a bullet passed through Clara’s sleeve and killed the man she was tending.”
“Was it true?”
“I saw it with my own eyes. She was an amazing woman.”
“Sounds like you both were amazing.” His warm hand on her shoulder grounded her to the present, even while her memories placed her firmly on the battlefield in the past.
“I took direction well. There was no way I could decide what to do next without her guidance. So in the midst of battle, with all these casualties streaming in, all I could do was fix what could be treated and move on. The surgeons were sawing off limbs faster than I could prepare the men for amputation. The screams, the thick smell of blood, the foul stench of entrails, then later the almost-sweet odor indicating infection. Even now, I remember it like it happened yesterday.
“We worked the day of battle and into the night. The next day, there was a break in the battle, so any able-bodied soldiers cleared the battlefield, dragging
in even more casualties. I went from one soldier to another, cataloging injuries, moving each man to the front or back of the surgeon’s line, as the injury dictated.”
“I can’t imagine what that was like.” His gaze never wavered from her face.
“Knowing what I do now about modern medicine, the treatment was beyond barbaric. But we did the best we could with what we had.”
“How did your husband’s company fare?”
Pulling her damp hair over one shoulder, she finger combed it as she stared into the darkness. “Depends on how you approach the question.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Well, from the point of view of following orders, the company performed admirably. William’s company held their line and pushed inward toward General Jackson’s forces. But in terms of attrition, it was catastrophic. Half of the company was cut down in the field.”
“What about your husband?”
“So, the day after battle, I happened upon a delirious soldier with blood-soaked bandages around his chest and belly. There was grime and gore everywhere. Even his trim moustache had been coated. It was William. I was so horrified, I actually vomited. He had that scent of death about him. You know the smell?”
“Of course, chère.”
Shame coated her like tepid mud. “I’m sorry, I know you’ve faced death before, too.”
“Yes, but this is your story.” He placed her hand in his and squeezed gently.
“So when William woke up, his pain destroyed me. All I could think was that my husband lay dying. Who would support the children? Who would be my companion for the rest of my life? Despair is the best word to describe how I felt. No human should have to suffer the way he did. So I yelled out to the heavens, to the stars, the moon, for someone to help me save this man.”
“And you got an answer.”
“Of course. Jerahmeel. Like you, I simply signed on the dotted line.”
“Did it work?” He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb, the reassuring circles calming her.
She flicked her hair back over her shoulder and stared at him. “William walked out of that dirty field hospital two days later. The surgeon declared it a miracle that his belly wound had closed and sealed without so much as a hint of infection. My prayers had been answered, and William received an honorable discharge from the army.”
“So he came home?”
“Yes, and for a week or so, things were perfect. He was a loving father and kind husband. Our life, far from the frontline of the war, rolled on in a perfectly calm manner.”
“Until?”
“Until one day, I woke up with a knife attached to my leg and a hunger to kill like nothing I’d ever known before. I thought I was losing my mind. I tried to take the knife off, but the pull it had over me ... It was a part of me.”
Odie nodded, a mere movement of shadow in the darkness.
“One day, Jerahmeel appeared again and gave me my marching orders, as it were. I found a criminal in Rockville and killed him, but an acquaintance nearly witnessed the kill.” Reclaiming her hand, she dropped her face into her palms and scrubbed, as though she could erase the memory.
“No witnesses, that’s the rule.”
“I know. Believe me, I know. So every week or so after that, I took a trip to Washington or Baltimore to roam more freely with a larger selection of criminals and more places to keep a kill hidden.”
“Wait. You returned home after each kill?”
With her chin resting on her hands, she looked up at him. “So I did two things I wasn’t supposed to do. That’s what drew Jerahmeel’s attention.”
“What?”
“I told my husband what had happened and what I was. And then I stayed with my family.” Nausea speared through her again, like her transition to Indebted happened yesterday.
Even though Odie knew perfectly well what being an Indebted entailed, she still hated the crimes she had to commit in her new existence. Even speaking the words made her all the more ashamed.
When he rubbed his jaw, the scratching sound made her nerve endings tingle.
“That’s bold,” he said. “Jerahmeel forbade me to have further contact with my girls.”
“That’s what he told me, too, but I couldn’t do that. I loved my children so dearly. For whatever reason, Jerahmeel made an exception for me to stay with my family. My freedom lasted about a year.”
“Wow.”
“Unfortunately for me, I believed in complete honesty with my husband. Little did I know that integrity was not his strongest character trait—not by a long shot. Neither was sobriety or fidelity.”
“What?”
“I had wondered why William was so accepting of what I’d become, especially given the potential for my Indebted status to ruin his good society name. He encouraged me to take trips to feed the knife’s needs. He supported my decision to travel some distance away from Rockville to obtain the kills, even take extra trips if needed. At the time, I thought he was simply helping me with the situation.”
“But?”
The worst part of the tale by far, how her trust had been repaid by his cheating. She made a conscious effort to relax her jaw, so tightly did she clench down, almost to hold back her disgrace. But what’s done had been done. Might as well share everything.
“But he was slaking his own personal desires while I was gone. Drunk more evenings than not. And enjoying his time with a childhood friend of mine, no less. He told her that I would be out of the picture soon and then he’d marry her.”
The grind of Odie’s voice contained his anger, but only just. “That must have devastated you.”
Unshed tears burned as the memory played in her mind like it had happened yesterday. “I came home one day after a trip to Baltimore and found them together, one room above where my children were playing. I got very angry, angrier than I can remember ever being before.”
What went unsaid was how her power had erupted at that very moment. The weird screaming whistle in her mind had threatened to split her head open, tried to rend the humanity from her soul. At that moment when she reached into William’s mind and pulled out his carnal sins for examination, her terrible power had fully manifested.
She wasn’t ready to share that piece with Odie, though.
“My yelling must have been impressive. The other woman fled, half-dressed. My children were crying. And William cut me to the bone. He told me I was no longer fit to be a mother, much less a wife, and I could never fulfill his needs. Because of the monster I’d become, he said I had to leave for the children’s benefit and never contact them again.”
“Horrible. Did he recognize the part about how he was the one committing adultery?”
“In his mind, it was but a logical step on his way to replacing me as his wife and securing a more suitable mother for his children.”
“You sacrificed everything for him. These were your children,” he whispered.
Her voice cracked, despite trying to maintain control. “Don’t you think I know that? I lost everything. My mortality, my humanity, my soul. I became something I despised. A criminal. I became Death.”
Fists formed at his sides. “And he repaid your sacrifice by throwing you away?”
“He threatened to tell everyone what I’d become and why I took trips to the bigger cities. Then he’d publicly divorce me.”
“That’s cold. What a bastard.”
“Yes, but colder still was my death he faked after I left.”
“You’re kidding.” The intensity in his shadowed stare made her insides clench.
“I wish it were a joke. I moved to Pennsylvania, started a new life, and entered nursing school. Months later, I discovered that he somehow got a body that looked like me, mutilated it, and publicly mourned the death of his beloved, precious wife. Complete with a lavish funeral, no expense spared. You know, the funeral seemed so silly. But what wasn’t funny was how I never saw my children again.”
“Do you know what becam
e of them?”
“It was too painful to find out, so I buried them deep in my heart and then went on with my life, such as it was. Nursing school twenty or thirty times, trying to find a purpose for this hellish existence.”
“Awful.”
He smoothed a piece of her hair over her back. Whether her shudder came from the fragile trust growing or the frank catharsis that, after 150 years, she could finally tell her story, she didn’t know. All she knew was, she needed to finish the hellish tale, get all of the hidden pain out.
“Each time I matriculated, I got split even further into two people: quiet and competent Nurse Ruth and the tempting seductress who killed evil people. Neither person was the real me, but both were necessary for my mental survival. I couldn’t allow the real Ruth to be the killer. But I had needs beyond nursing that I refused to explore. So I got very good at hiding, pretending to be what people expected. Or didn’t expect, as the case might be.”
Odie lifted her hand and brushed his firm lips over the inside of her wrist. A sensation like a shiver wrapped in electricity shot up her arm and down her torso into her core.
“Well, now you know the sordid history.”
“You’re an amazing woman, mother, and wife.”
The weight in her ribcage had disappeared. Although she hadn’t cried, she was exhausted, as if she’d wept for weeks. Her head hurt at the memory of her children, but the weight that had been holding her down for hundreds of years had gone. Hope pushed up like a butterfly emerging from a too-long sleep in the cocoon.
She shook the torpid heaviness off her shoulders. The lightness felt like freedom and new life. She had crested a mountain and was peering down the other side. Her history created the person she was today, but her future lay at the foot of the precipice.
Where Odie waited for her.
Could she take the leap of faith with him?
Desire flared. Holy hell, she wanted him more than ever. She glanced sideways at him and licked her lips.
Chapter 15
That tongue darting over her lips was all it took to break his dam of restraint. Odie yanked her around the rest of the way to face him, kissing her deeply. He wanted to replace her pain with pleasure. He wanted to commune with her in a way that shared their pain of becoming Indebted and turned that torment into something good and pure.
Flame Unleashed (Hell to Pay) Page 13