Whyborne and Griffin, Books 1-3
Page 69
After we ate, we sat pressed together, his head resting against my shoulder. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, gazing out over the waves.
I looked down at our hands, intertwined on my knee. “Yes, it is.”
“I can’t help but think what’s down there, though,” he went on more quietly. “Beneath the waves. I’m not sure I’ll ever feel entirely safe without the solid earth under my feet.”
The dreams had ceased—for me, at least, and the poor wretches Zeiler had experimented on. Allan Tambling had returned to work at the museum already. His name hadn’t been precisely cleared—after all, he had technically been the one to kill his uncle. But my testimony of Zeiler’s mesmerism was enough to convince the authorities the doctor had been a dangerous madman, and the murder was blamed on him instead.
None of the papers had formed a coherent opinion of the destruction of the asylum, or the bodies of those who had fallen in battle outside of it. Officially, they had all died when a freak storm struck the area. For the most part, the police contented themselves with rounding up any troublesome escapees and sending them to the state hospital in Danvers. The rest were left to go on about their lives quietly.
As for Amelie, without the dweller’s song pressing against her thoughts, she’d regained much of her sanity. She’d already written several letters to the newspaper exposing the abuses of the asylum, and there was talk she would be invited to address the legislature in their next session.
Her new role might not last, or it might become her calling, I didn’t know. Either way, I hoped she would have a happy life. If not for her intervention, things would have gone very differently indeed, and the Eyes’ plan might have succeeded.
“I heard from Ruth,” Griffin said.
“I would have thought the family would have forbidden her to write you,” I said.
“Either they didn’t think to forbid it, assuming she wouldn’t wish to, or she didn’t care,” he replied. “She said after meeting Miss Parkhurst and the other ladies, not to mention Christine, she has decided against remaining in Kansas and marrying immediately. She hopes to find employment in Baltimore. I wrote back and told her to contact me, should she find herself in any difficulty.”
“That was very good of you.”
“I thought you’d approve. As for Ruth, I think she’ll be happier having experienced more of the world, even if she ultimately chooses to return home.”
“No doubt.” Assuming the rest of the family allowed her such a choice, at least. “And…your father? How is he?” It seemed impossible to believe I’d actually contemplated violence against the man. When I’d confessed the events to Griffin, he insisted the impulse had come solely from the dweller.
I did my best to believe him.
“Half the time he thinks the imagined the whole thing,” Griffin said. “The other half, he swears to anyone who will listen that you’re demon possessed, or a Satanist, or perhaps a black magician. Ruth says the family has convinced him not to talk about it in front of anyone else, at least.”
“I’m sorry,” I said unhappily. “I suppose there really is no chance of reconciliation now, if he believes me to be some unholy abomination.”
“You’re probably right,” he agreed. Sadness tinged his expression, and I dropped my gaze to my shoes.
“Griffin…I’m sorry about what happened. About your family.”
He was silent for a long time, staring out over the gently lapping waves, until I began to think the subject dropped. At last, however, he said, “I think some part of me believed if I convinced my parents my life was normal, if I saved Allan from the asylum, then everything would be like it was before my confinement. Time would turn back upon itself, and I could be whole again. Become the man I was before I went into the basement or spent months in the asylum. But the world doesn’t work that way. Once something changes, it doesn’t ever really go back.”
“No.” I turned my head and pressed a kiss into his hair. “I’ve given the matter some thought in the last week, and if you wish, we can have electricity run to the house.”
Griffin laughed, sitting back in order to look at me. “I never know what is going to come out of that mouth of yours next, my dear. Your mind is a complete conundrum.”
I stared down at my hands. “You’ve given up so many things for me. I can at least give this silly electric light a try.”
Griffin laid his hand on top of mine. “I haven’t ‘given up’ anything for you.”
“Your family.”
“They gave me up, not the other way around,” Griffin said.
“But you had to choose.”
“So did they.” Griffin pulled away from me and drew a small parcel from his pocket. “I have something for you.”
“A present?” I asked, taking it from him. “Whatever for?” Had I forgotten some special occasion? “My birthday isn’t for over a month.”
“Just open it.”
I unwrapped the paper, revealing a small box. Inside the box lay a pocket watch. “Thank you,” I said, although I wasn’t certain why he thought I needed a new watch.
“Look inside the case.”
I did so, and found it was of the type meant to hold a portrait or other memento. Griffin had fitted it with the photograph of the two of us from the pier.
Emotion tightened my throat, and I blinked rapidly against the burning sensation behind my eyes. “Thank you.” I wished I had something to give him in return. “I’ll keep it with me, always.”
Griffin shifted closer and took my hands in his. “I may not be able to take you dancing, or bring an armful of flowers to your office, or hire a carriage for a romantic ride through the park, but I can at least do this,” he said. “Give you something to carry with you, so you’ll always have a reminder of how much I love you.”
I tried to thank him again, but my voice broke, so I kissed him instead. I felt as if my heart had taken flight, skimming across the waves with the gulls. After, we sat together in silence, his head on my shoulder, our hands on his knee, until the stars came out.
The adventures of Whyborne, Griffin, and Christine continue in the Whyborne & Griffin, Books 4-6 box set!
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Acknowledgements
Special thanks to Sarah, tour guide at the Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum, for answering my many questions during the tour. Like Stormhaven, TALA was built in 1864 using the Kirkbride plan and, in fact, is the only remaining Kirkbride lunatic asylum that can be legally visited. You can learn more about TALA, Kirkbride buildings, and the history of treatment for the mentally ill at http://trans-alleghenylunaticasylum.com.
Extra-special thanks to my editor, Annetta Ribken, who put up with a great deal of whining and moaning from me during the editing phase of this book. Without her guidance, Stormhaven would have been far less than it could be. As always, any errors or disappointments are solely my responsibility.
Thanks also to Allan J, for providing the name for Uncle Victim, I mean Victor, via Twitter conversations during the writing of this book.
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Other books from Jordan L. Hawk:
Hainted
Whyborne & Griffin series:
Widdershins
Threshold
Stormhaven
Necropolis (May 2014)
SPECTR
Hunter of Demons
Master of Ghouls
Reaper of Souls
Eater of Lives
Destroyer of Worlds
Summoner of Storms (July 2014)
Short stories:
Heart of the Dragon
After the Fall (in the Allegories of the Tarot anthology)
Eidolon (A Whyborne & Griffin short story)
About The A
uthor
Jordan L. Hawk grew up in the wilds of North Carolina, where her bootlegging granny raised her on stories of haints and mountain magic. She might have follow in the family business, but found herself unable to resist the lure of forbidden knowledge, and became an archaeologist instead. After growing tired of mummy curses and ghastly discoveries, she used a silver knife in the light of a full moon to summon her true love and turned to spinning tales. She weaves together couples who need to fall in love, then throws in some evil sorcerers and undead just to make sure they want it bad enough. In Jordan’s world, love might conquer all, but it just as easily could end up in the grave.
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