The Condemned (Echoes from the Past Book 6)

by Shapiro, Irina

  “Was it healthy?” Quinn asked.

  “As far as I can tell, yes.”

  “Thanks, Colin. I’ll ring you when I get back.”

  Quinn disconnected the call and pondered the information Colin had shared with her. Even if the child had been infected with toxoplasmosis, the effects might not have been immediate, and as far as Quinn knew, the risks were mostly brain damage and blindness, not something that would show up in skeletal remains, since all soft tissue had decomposed centuries ago. In truth, the results would have been more surprising if the child had been John’s, but Mary had been right, the baby was Walker’s son.

  Quinn returned to the room and resumed her seat by the window. She’d suddenly come up with a plausible theory of what happened to Mary and how her remains had wound up in the cave in St. Just, but needed to verify her hunch before presenting her findings to Rhys. A soft knock distracted Quinn from her thoughts and she went to open the door. Seth stood on the threshold, a bulging shopping bag in his right hand.

  “I brought you girls sandwiches, chips—I mean crisps—and some mineral water. If Jo wakes, you should encourage her to eat something,” he said. “And you should eat too. You must be hungry.”

  “I had some tea and biscuits.”

  “Cookies are not food,” Seth admonished her. “Okay, I’m off to bed. Goodnight, sweetheart.”

  “Goodnight, Dad,” Quinn said. She accepted the bag and grinned at Seth. Somehow, being paternal didn’t really suit him, which made her appreciate his concern all the more.

  Chapter 72

  February 2015

  London, England

  Alex’s face looked peaceful and rosy in the warm glow of the nightlight. He’d been asleep in her arms for nearly an hour but cried every time Quinn tried to put him down in his crib. His hand was wrapped around her finger, as if to make sure she was still there, holding him close. He’d reached for her the moment she came home and hadn’t let her go since, and Emma had been on her best behavior as well, filling Quinn in on everything she’d missed and asking endless questions.

  “They missed you,” Gabe said when he came into the bedroom, having read Emma a bedtime story.

  “I missed them too. I hate being away from them.”

  “But this was important. How’s Jo settling in?” Gabe asked.

  “She’s glad to be home. Seth was still with her when I left. He’ll stay in London for as long as Jo needs him. I’m so glad to see them getting on,” Quinn said. “There were several times when I caught them wearing an identical expression. Funny how they’d never met until a few days ago, but they are so similar in some ways.”

  Gabe nodded. “I see Jenna in Emma when I least expect to. There are times when she’ll tilt her head a certain way or her eyes will flash with annoyance, and I get a sudden flashback of her mother.”

  “I can’t wait to see what Alex will be like once he’s older.”

  “He’ll be an absolute rascal,” Gabe replied with a soft smile. “Try to put him down. I think he’s sleeping soundly now.”

  Quinn nodded and lowered Alex into the crib. He allowed her to put him down this time but retained his grip on her finger. Quinn carefully unfolded his tiny fingers and covered him with his fluffy blanket. Alex instantly raised both arms, assuming his favorite sleeping position that made him look as if he were surrendering.

  Quinn and Gabe tiptoed from the bedroom and closed the door before settling together on the sofa. Quinn leaned against Gabe and rested her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. It was good to be home.

  “Has Jo spoken to Sylvia?” Gabe asked.

  “No. She’s not ready.”

  “How much did you tell her?”

  “I told her everything, including the bit about Rhys and the part he played in our family drama. Now it’s up to her to decide how she wants to proceed. She was angry with Sylvia for a long time, and I’m not at all sure her feelings will ever change. She blames her for everything. I do think it would be good for them to meet, even if they will never have any sort of relationship. It would give Jo an opportunity to say her piece and maybe find some closure.”

  “Is she angry with Rhys? Discovering that he might have been her biological father must have tainted her rosy view of him.”

  “I don’t think it has. What Rhys did when he was a misguided teenage boy cannot possibly tarnish what he’s done for her now. He risked his life to find her, and followed her to Germany, when he could have simply shared the information with me and Logan and returned to his cushy life. Gabe, I think Rhys got badly hurt in Kabul, but he didn’t want to talk about it.”

  Gabe sighed. “I must admit that I was wrong about Rhys. I always thought of him as a selfish prig.”

  “He feels guilty about the part he played in Sylvia’s life,” Quinn replied.

  “He might have at first, but he’s no longer motivated by guilt. He cares for you, Quinn.”

  “And he cares for Jo. I think Rhys is surprisingly sentimental beneath that crusty exterior. He and Jo recognized something in each other, something deeply personal.”

  “And speaking of deeply personal matters, have you asked her? Does she share your psychic ability?” Gabe asked.

  “I don’t know. I wanted to ask, but something held me back. It’s not easy to blurt out, ‘I see dead people. Do you?’ The foundation I lay with Jo now will influence our relationship for the rest of our lives. I don’t want her to think I’m a nutter.”

  “Perhaps she is one too.”

  “Not necessarily. Brett is physic, but Seth isn’t. And I have no way of knowing how many people along my ancestral line were endowed with the same ability. I will ask her—soon.”

  Gabe lifted Quinn’s face with his finger and brushed his lips against hers. “Tomorrow, you can find out if Jo has the gift, but tonight, I’d like to show you how much I missed you.”

  “Not as much as I missed you,” Quinn replied as she wrapped her arms around Gabe’s neck and pulled him down on top of her. She hadn’t told him about the pregnancy scare. There was no point now that the danger had passed, but tomorrow, she’d make an appointment to see Dr. Malik. She wasn’t ready for another baby, and she was fairly sure Gabe wasn’t ready either. They had a perfect family and she didn’t want to upset the balance by throwing an unplanned pregnancy into the mix. There were ways to avoid that, and it was time she took care of business.

  Chapter 73

  June 1621

  Aboard the Constance

  White hot sun flooded the deck, making Mary squint against its brightness. It was unseasonably hot, and she felt too warm in her woolen gown as she leaned against the rail and peered out over the tranquil sea. It was hard to tell where the water ended and the sky began. She thought she might catch sight of land today, but the ocean stretched before her, just as it had for the past two months.

  Mary’s hand flew to her belly as a particularly vicious kick startled her out of her reverie. The baby could come any day now, according to Dr. Paulson, and despite her fear for the future, she was ready. She was uncomfortable and hot, even when the temperature dropped after sunset, and had to use the pot so frequently there was almost no point in trying to sleep.

  Mary stepped away from the railing. She was terribly thirsty. Her mouth was so dry her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She closed her eyes as a terrible headache began to build just behind the forehead, the pain reverberating into her temples. A telltale flush began to creep from her neck and into her face, her cheeks aflame within seconds.

  Mary wet her hands in a barrel of water and patted them against her flushed face, but the warm water did nothing to cool her down. She began walking toward the ladder that would take her down below, but her vision blurred, and terrible vertigo knocked her off balance. The deck rushed up to meet her and Mary fell hard, landing on her left side and slamming her head against the planks.

  Rough hands lifted her, and she was transported to the cool sanctuary of
the cabin. She heard Dr. Paulson’s voice floating somewhere above her, its cadence distorted and muffled by the roaring in her ears. She couldn’t open her eyes, and her whole body seemed to quake as the blood rushed in her veins and pounded in her temples, leaving her nearly insensible with pain.

  “Mary, can you hear me?” the doctor was asking. Mary tried to reply, but all that came out was a pitiful moan.

  “Mary. Mary,” Dr. Paulson called. She felt his fingers on her wrist and his palm on her forehead. “I need to do something to relieve her blood pressure or she’ll suffer an apoplexy,” he said, addressing someone in the cabin with them.

  “Will you bleed her again?”

  “No, that will take too long and isn’t guaranteed to help. Unbearable pressure is building in her head. Look how flushed she is, and the whites of her eyes are tinged red from broken blood vessels. I must save her.”

  “What will you do?” the voice asked.

  “Make a hole in her skull to relieve the pressure on the brain. I will trepan her.”

  Mary heard a sharp intake of breath. “Will she survive the procedure?”

  “If I don’t do something, she won’t survive the day. And even if she does, the physical strain of delivering a child will surely kill her. I will do what I can to help, then find her lodgings once we come ashore. She will need ample time to recover.”

  “You don’t expect her to survive the birth, do you?”

  Mary didn’t hear Dr. Paulson’s whispered answer, but she didn’t need to. It was obvious enough. What would happen to her baby if she died? Would someone look after it or just throw it into the gutter? Mary desperately tried to marshal her thoughts, but the pounding in her head obliterated every coherent thought, plunging her into a thick fog as she began to lose consciousness. The fog grew heavier, pressing down on her chest and suffocating her. She struggled to breathe but fought the darkness with every last reserve of her energy.

  “Help me,” Mary whispered. “Please, helps me.”

  “Mary, I’m going to do everything in my power to save you,” Dr. Paulson promised.

  “The baby.”

  “I will make sure your baby will be looked after if you’re not there to look after it yourself. You mustn’t worry. Try to relax and breathe deeply.”

  Mary tried to respond, but her brief spell of awareness was swallowed by the ever-encroaching fog. She seemed to be floating on it, enveloped in its soupy thickness.

  “Will you not give her some laudanum?” the voice asked.

  “I’m afraid I don’t have any left,” Dr. Paulson replied. “She’ll have to do without.”

  Mary cried out when a sharp pain roused her from her stupor and nearly sent her flying off the berth. She would have sat bolt upright, but strong hands held her down as Dr. Paulson leaned over her and bored into her skull. The pain was like nothing Mary had ever experienced. It was sharp and relentless. She convulsed in agony and screamed for the doctor to stop, but he only increased the pressure, rushing to get the job done.

  “I’m almost done,” he assured her in a breathless voice. “You’ll feel much better once it’s all over.”

  She couldn’t respond. She was whimpering and crying like a wounded animal, her heart contracting from the pain as if it would burst.

  “Hold her still,” Dr. Paulson barked.

  “No,” Mary moaned, but no one seemed to be listening to her. They didn’t seem to understand that her head felt as if it were being cleaved in two by a very sharp axe. At least that would have been a quick death. This was torture.

  “Just a little longer,” Dr. Paulson was saying. “I’m almost there.”

  Suddenly, the pain vanished, leaving behind a strange feeling of peace. Mary no longer cared about anything. She’d only wanted the suffering to end, and now it had. She floated on a gossamer cloud of tranquility.

  “There now. She’s feeling better already. Mop up the blood, will you,” Dr. Paulson said above her head.

  Mary heard a gagging sound. “Dear Lord in heaven, is that her brain?”

  “It’s nothing to be frightened of, Master Halsey. The pressure has been relieved, and a natural balance will soon be restored. We will leave her this way until she’s out of danger and then replace the skull cap.” Sounds of retching reached her from far away.

  Mary felt the welcoming embrace of oblivion as darkness descended on her battered senses. She was no longer floating, but falling, falling into an abyss. She tried to fight it, but she was too weak, so she gave in and allowed the darkness to take her.

  Chapter 74

  February 2015

  London, England

  Quinn stared at the white-painted ceiling of the bedroom, her heart heavy with unbearable sadness. She could never forget the horror she had just experienced, or erase Mary’s suffering from her memory. She’d heard of trepanning, of course, but had never witnessed anything as barbaric or inhuman as this. Surprisingly, many patients had survived the procedure, and it had still been in use as recently as the nineteenth century, maybe even well into the twentieth century, until it was replaced by modern-day neurosurgery, performed while the patient was under anesthetic and using a power drill to open the skull instead of a sharp-toothed tool with a crank, similar to a can opener. She had no doubt Rhys would move heaven and earth to find a surviving example of the archaic tool to use in the episode and demonstrate how the procedure worked.

  “Why so glum?” Gabe asked as he came into the bedroom to dress for work. He smiled at Alex, who’d just woken up and rolled onto his tummy to peer between the bars of his cot. Gabe lifted him out and handed him to Quinn, who cuddled him protectively.

  “I just experienced a trepanning. It was awful, Gabe. Unspeakable. I’m reminded each and every day how lucky I am to live in this century, especially as a woman.”

  “It was no walk in the park for the men either, but I take your point,” Gabe replied. “So, is that what killed her?”

  “Colin believes Mary was alive when she went into labor, which would mean she survived the procedure.”

  “There are documented cases of coffin births where mother and child were both deceased at the time of the birth. The infant was expelled from the mother’s body by a build-up of gasses,” Gabe said as he buttoned his shirt. “Perhaps Mary was spared the horror of having to deliver her baby while entombed.”

  “I would tend to agree with you, except for one glaring flaw in your argument. Had Mary been dead at the time of delivery, her remains would lie flat in the coffin. Mary’s skeleton was on its side, mouth wide open, head thrown back, hands crossed over the belly, and legs bent.”

  “I forgot about that,” Gabe admitted. He selected a tie and held it up for Quinn’s approval.

  “Yes, that one will do nicely,” she said absentmindedly. “Mary survived the trepanning, I’m sure of it. God, poor woman. What a way to go.”

  Quinn got out of bed, pulled on her dressing gown, and lifted Alex into her arms. He was already smacking his lips, reminding his parents that it was time for breakfast. Gabe kissed Alex’s silky cheek, then gave Quinn a tender kiss. “Quinn, Mary’s been gone for nearly four hundred years. Whatever she went through is long over. Don’t let it affect you. You must remain emotionally detached if you plan to continue sharing these stories.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Quinn muttered.

  “Just trying to help,” Gabe replied as he called out to Emma to get her shoes and coat on. Quinn saw them off and went into the kitchen to feed Alex and make herself something to eat. After breakfast, she’d stop by the bank before heading over to see Jo. She’d had an idea, and she hoped it would work.

  **

  Quinn bought a bunch of flowers to brighten Jo’s flat and picked up a few essentials in case Seth hadn’t had time to run out to the shops. She could make sandwiches for lunch, and Jo was bound to need tea and milk. She took the Tube to Jo’s flat, an experience Alex seemed to enjoy, and rang the bell.

  Jo opened the door, a happy smile
on her face, especially when she caught sight of Alex in his pram. She wore black tights and an oversized cream-colored wool jumper, and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She even wore a bit of make-up, which did wonders to hide her pallor.

  “How’re you feeling, sis?” Quinn asked as she handed her the flowers.

  “Much better. It’s nice to be home. It’s also nice not to be alone,” she added as she reached for a vase and filled it with water. “Seth arrived at seven, bearing pastries and freshly brewed coffee.”

  “Where’s he now?” Quinn asked.

  “He went out to do some shopping. I see you had the same idea.”

  “I thought I’d make some sandwiches,” Quinn replied as she handed Jo the shopping bag and lifted Alex out of his pram. She removed his snowsuit and hat and ruffled his flattened hair.

  “God, he’s gorgeous,” Jo gushed. “May I hold him?”

  “Of course.” Quinn handed Jo the baby, and Jo held him carefully, as if he were made of glass. She sat down on the sofa and settled Alex in her lap.

  “My name is Jo,” she said to him. “I’m your aunt. Aunt Jo. I like the sound of that,” she added, giving Quinn a quivering smile. “I never imagined I’d have nieces and nephews. I can’t wait to meet Emma. And Gabe.”

  “You have quite a few people to meet.”

  “I’m so looking forward to meeting Logan and Jude, but I must admit, I’m a little nervous. Do you think they’ll resent me for not wanting to meet Sylvia?”