Something Strange and Deadly (27 page)

Jie squeezed her eyes shut. “He's gonna sacrifice him.”

Daniel grabbed the oars, his face hardened and his lips compressed into a narrow line. “We'll get out over there.” He gestured to an empty shore expanse south of us. We slid through the water toward it.

“Once we're there,” he continued in a gruff voice, “we'll try to get into Laurel Hill from another point, like maybe the south gate. If we're lucky, we'll find Marcus and—”

His words broke off. The oars had hit something.

Daniel's eyes grew huge. “Shit!”

Fingers, arms, and claws surged from the water, scratching and shaking the boat. The Dead had reached us, and we were surrounded.

Jie burst into action. Her sword sliced into the water while Daniel beat at the hands with his oars, but more hands appeared—faster than they could fight.

All I could do was stare, my hand clutched to my chest and my mind scrambling for a solution.

The boat tipped dangerously. A skeletal hand was latched onto the rim, and Jie darted at it, almost tripping over the influence machine. She hacked at the hand until the fingers were severed.

And then the solution locked into place in my mind. Joseph had power—he was gifted with the ability to touch spirits. Elijah had that gift.
I
had that gift. It was why I could use the earrings, why I could handle electrocution, and why Elijah had used me to resurrect Father.

“I can use the machine!”

Jie and Daniel jerked their heads toward me.

“Start spinning,” I cried. “I can use it to stop the Dead—to stop Marcus.”

“No!” Daniel rammed his oar into the water, but the splashing and thrashing didn't cease. “That's the stupidest thing—you can't do that!”

“Stupid or not, it might work,” Jie interrupted. She dropped to the boat's floor, ripped the jacket off the machine, and gripped the handle firmly. She nodded, intensity and belief bright in her eyes, and before Daniel could stop her, she started turning the wheels.

I scooted toward the machine. I could do this, I knew I could—and I really had no choice but to try.

“Clear a spot in the water,” I yelled at Daniel. The boat was pitching and rolling all around. We'd topple to a death of drowning at any moment. “I need to touch the water, Daniel—clear it!”

He grabbed Jie's sword, and without another word, he chopped at the corpses closest to me.

Crack!
Blue sparks flew from the machine.

“Go,” Jie said.

I shoved my mutilated hand into the river. Then I leaned forward and thrust my left hand into the popping electricity.

The electricity hit me with a crack. It was like at the library but tenfold stronger. The current raced through my body. The bubbling heat poured through me and into the water.

Millions of worms crawled beneath my skin, and I could smell burning flesh and hair. Then a light erupted all around. Behind my eyes, in my eyes, through my chest. A sapphire light brighter than the sun. With it came a thunder that shook my soul.

With it came power.

It felt like eternity. Like the world spun and spun. I was the river, I was the fish, I was the soil and the roots and the sea, and then I was Jie and I was Daniel. I was Joseph. I felt as large as the entire planet and as small as the tiniest cell.

And then I understood how Joseph could use the water to affect the Dead. I could
feel
the corpses and their corrupt energy. I focused on their hungry souls and the tethers that connected them to Marcus.

The leashes looked like glowing blue strands of spiderweb, wispy yet strong. I began with the corpse closest to me, though I'd no idea what to do. I didn't know how to blast the tethers like a cue ball; and when I concentrated on the single thread, nothing happened. I tried to touch it, but I had no physical control. I moved my senses closer to the thread. It was rather beautiful, the pieces of spiritual energy. Beautiful, but wrong. It didn't belong in this world.

What had Elijah said to the Hungry?
Dormi
. Sleep.

“Go back,” I sang. “Go back to your realm, and sleep.”

The line grew taut and then broke in the middle. Like a fuse, it shortened in both directions. It shivered and shrank; and when it reached the corpse, the final drops of energy disappeared.

I moved to the next corpse and repeated the technique. After ten or so, the process grew easier. After thirty, I was adept enough to do more than one at a time. How the dickens Joseph could do
all
of them at once was unfathomable to me, but my method worked, so I kept going.

When the last corpse was sent to the spirit realm and I could no longer sense corruption, I searched—or rather I groped much like one does in the pitch of night—for Marcus.

I found him far away. He was running, and his soul slithered and slid from my grasp. He must have felt the breaking ties and fled the scene. Even if I had been able to grab him, he had fully bonded with my brother's body, and I didn't think I could banish his energy so easily—or perhaps at all. The farther he ran, the more my ability to even sense him dwindled. Then he vanished entirely.

I turned my attention to Joseph. He was still alive. Good.

Then I noticed the curtain. It was a shimmery, hazy thing that hung before me. Thick like velvet but opaque like prisms. Elijah was there, at the edge, and watching me. I saw his soul. It sparkled like the sun on the river, and warmth washed over me. It was the smile after the storm. He was no longer tormented, but the boy I'd always known. Beside him was a fainter light. A tender, bearlike glow. My father.

It was right.
That
was right.

Then I was Eleanor again. I slammed back into my body and into my own awareness.

I gasped. I was on the ground, and the stench of rotting flesh was everywhere. I gulped and coughed, and my lungs screamed for breath.

“Empress,” someone called.

I panted and panted, my eyes clenched shut. I felt like a big, scratched bruise.

“Eleanor,” Daniel said. “Miss Fitt! Wake up!”

I fluttered my eyelids open. “I'm not a misfit anymore,” I rasped. “I thought I told you that.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-SEVEN

T
he Spirit-Hunters wound up bringing me to
Philadelphia's Pennsylvania Hospital. My right hand, the one the corpse had bitten, was a bloody pulp and had grown foul quickly. Infection was imminent. Joseph had fared little better than I, but he couldn't enter the hospital because of his criminal status. Jie had promised she could heal him, though.

They'd left me with a strict but able nurse and then departed. I didn't know if I would see them again.

I was in a large room in the women's wing of the hospital, and at least fifteen other patients were with me. Mama couldn't afford a private room, but I hardly cared. If anything, I enjoyed the companionable pain of the ill. Their hacking coughs were pleasant music to the wretchedness in my right wrist. To the grief in my heart.

I lost my right hand. The doctor was forced to amputate.

I'd heard stories after the war with the South. Stories about broken men. So many soldiers came home without legs or forearms or fingers, and I'd always thought that was what “broken” meant. Now I knew it wasn't the physical pain that had shattered the soldiers' hearts but everything else. The death and the loss and the constant, heavy choice to keep fighting or give up.

The days passed, and when I thought of Clarence, I forced my mind to see his beautiful smile. I also clung to my final vision of Elijah and Father. At times I imagined I could see them still, watching me from the spirit realm.

I knew there would be no going back to the way things were. No more sitting in the cherry tree, no more playing chess, and no more dreaming of a world with Elijah. So I spent the long, empty moments considering what I wanted now. What I would do when I left the hospital. Blazes, I longed to find Marcus and shred his soul to pieces, but first... first I had things in Philadelphia that needed doing.

It was Sunday, June the eighteenth, three days after I'd destroyed my own brother. Half a week since the final dregs of my old life, of the old Eleanor had been erased.

At that moment Mary sat on the end of my hospital bed reading
Twelfth Night
to me. I half listened, my left fingers scrubbing gently at my face. My right cheek constantly begged for scratching. The doctor swore I would have no scars so long as I left the scabs alone.

The murmur of Mary's words echoed like a soothing wind through the hospital wing. Mary visited daily since Mama would not. I suspected guilt ate at Mary's insides for letting me leave the house.

I cleared my throat, and Mary stopped reading.

“If we sell the piano, we can afford to keep the house. For a while at least. Have you told her that?” I eased myself into a sitting position.

“Aye, and your ma won't let me sell it.” She closed the Shakespeare volume and looked at me warily.

“Do it anyway. Tell her I told you to.” I massaged the nape of my neck. “And sell all my evening gowns and jewelry. The gowns alone should cover the hospital bill.”

“True.” A flush grew on Mary's cheeks, and she picked at the book's spine. “I've got some amethyst earrings that... well, if you're willing, I could sell—”

I laughed, a hollow sound. “Keep them, Mary. I doubt you'll get paid for a long time. Hell, I don't even know why you're still working for us.”

“You oughtn't cuss, Eleanor.” She wagged a finger at me. “Anyway, I got nowhere else to go, and you're ma's always treated me right. And... and you too. You don't deserve all this.” She waved around the room.

“Oh, I deserve it. Trust me.”

“I find that hard to believe. Nobody deserves what that reporter's gone and done to ya.”

My throat tightened, and I clenched the cotton sheet in my left fist. Mary had brought me the paper the day before, and it hadn't been pleasant reading.

Once the amazement had worn off over Laurel Hill's ruins and the hundreds of corpses floating in the Schuylkill, and once people had realized the Dead would no longer plague the city or Exhibition, the
Philadelphia Bulletin
—or rather Nick Peger—had latched onto a new campaign: me. It had somehow reached his ears that Clarence was with me the night of his death, and Peger had bitten into this juicy news with rabid, Deadlike ferocity.

Though the speculation did not spread to other newspapers, the damage was done. Mrs. Wilcox and Allison publicly denounced my family. I knew it was the final blow for my dragon-mother. If Mama had ever intended to swallow her devastation and leave her bedroom, she certainly wouldn't now.

I rather thought my family deserved the Wilcoxes' hatred. Though no one knew the exact truth, my family
was
the cause of Clarence's death.

Of course, Peger could prove none of his accusations against me. Soon enough, some other story would come along to replace me. I hoped.

I settled back onto my pillow. “You don't have to stay, Mary. I'm tired now, and I think I'll sleep.”

“Ah'right.”

“Don't forget what I said about the gowns. There must be someone who will buy them.”

She nodded.

“And,” I added, my voice tight, “if she'll listen, tell Mama I love her.”

“Wake up,” said a voice. “Eleanor, wake up.”

I opened my eyes, groggy and confused. The room was dark, and except for the heavy breaths of slumber, it was a silent Sunday night.

Someone sat on my bed, much like Mary had, but this person was small, and her voice was like a sharp-edged music box.

“Jie,” I breathed. “How'd you get in?”

She grinned, a flash of white in the dark. “The window by your bed.”

“But I'm on the second story.”

“And that's what trees are for, yeah?” She helped me sit up.

“Why are you here? Have you found Marcus?”

“No, but we think we know where he's gone, so we're leaving town.”

“To be honest,” I said with a sad twist to my lips, “I thought you'd be long gone by now.”

“Nothing personal, Eleanor, but I would have. It's not safe for us, yeah?” She cracked her knuckles against her jaw. “But Daniel wouldn't go until one of us had gotten in here to see you.”

My heart twisted, and I turned away. “Ah.”

“We also wanted to give you this.” She set a fat, dirty envelope on my bedside table. “It was in the grimoire pages. It's full of letters... from your brother. To you. We thought you might want them.”

My throat stung. “Thanks,” I whispered. “S-so where are you going?”

“Chicago. A headless corpse was found there. It must be Marcus's work.”

“Was the corpse walking?”

“Naw. Marcus probably sacrificed someone for the power. We're not completely sure it was him, but chances are pretty high it is.” She scooted closer to me. “I wish you could come with us.”

A breathy laugh broke through my lips, and tears glossed over my eyes. “I wish that too, Jie, but I can barely walk.”

“We could wait a little longer.” She opened her hands wide. “There's nothing but hate left for you in this town.”

“I know.” I sniffled and wiped my nose on my sleeve. “But I can't leave. I have to take care of my mother.”

“Have you told her about your brother?”

“N-no.” My voice broke. If I wasn't careful, I would be crying soon. “Not yet, but I will.”

Jie grunted. “Well, if you change your mind about staying, you come find us, yeah?”

“How will I know where you are?”

“I'll write to you. Every city we visit, I'll send you a letter.”

A grin tugged at my lips. “All right.”

Jie slid off the bed. “I should go now. There's a big reward out for me.” She smiled, her eyes gleaming with wicked pleasure. “Besides, I still gotta let Daniel in.”

“Huh?”

“He's at the front door.” She rolled her eyes. “He's too clumsy to climb trees, yeah?” She gave me a quick hug. “See you around, Eleanor.” Then she scampered silently through the room and disappeared into the hall.

Brittle minutes passed, and my heart started banging uncomfortably. After a few days in bed, all my anger at Daniel's rejection had faded into a tender regret.

He appeared in the doorway, a shadowy figure. He crept toward my bed, and once he reached my side, he gazed down at me for several moments. His eyes ran over my lacerated arms, flicked to my bandaged stump, and then paused at my face.

“Can I sit?” he whispered, waving to the bed.

“Yes, of course.”

He perched on the edge. Then he tugged off his cap and squeezed it in his hands. “I wanted to say good-bye... and tell you sorry.”

“For what?”

“For everything. Your brother, your hand, me...” He swallowed, and his Adam's apple bobbed. “When you first came to our lab, I thought you were a snobby princess who only cared about herself. Just the sort of person I hate.”

I bit the inside of my mouth, trying to keep the thirsty ache away. “A-and now?”

“Now...” He shook his head and gazed at his cap. “Well, you're none of that. I was wrong. You're an empress with grit and brains, and I wish...”

“What?” My voice was so low it could barely be heard. “You wish what?”

“That we could have helped you more.”

My breath shot out. Silly, Eleanor—what had I thought he would say? That he wished we could be together? What a ninny I was. And yet, despite my best attempts to stifle it, the hollowness was still strong inside.

I forced a soft chuckle. “You saved my life—the three of you saved me over and over again. There was nothing more you could have done.”

“Maybe.” His gaze lingered on my bandaged wrist, and he dipped his head toward it. “There are, uh, ways to make fake hands, you know... mechanical ones.”

I tilted my head to one side. “Are you offering?”

“I can always try.” He shrugged one shoulder, his cheeks reddening, and he picked at a threadbare spot on his cap. At last, he cleared his throat. “Well, um, that's all I wanted to say. I don't want you to think that just 'cause everything seems bad that it is.” He rubbed his knees and glanced at me. “I should go now.”

My lips went dry, and without thinking I leaned forward and gripped his sleeve. “Wait.”

He kept his eyes locked on mine. Their emerald sheen was invisible in the dark.

“Daniel... you don't... or, that is to say, you're not...” I licked my lips and gulped. “You're not in love with me, are you.” I spoke it as a statement and tried to ignore my pounding heart.

He twisted his head away. “It's not that simple.”

“It's a yes or no.” I pulled back my hand.

“Then...” He set his cap on his head. “Then no. No, I'm not.”

My stomach clenched painfully. But it was all right; it would be all right. Better to know than to wonder.

He rose and gave me a final stare. “Please, Empress, take care of yourself. I won't be here to rescue you.”

I let a weak grin pass over my lips. I refused to let him see how heartsick I was at his words. “Of course. I'll be careful. Best of luck to you, Mr. Sheridan.”

He winced at the name. His mouth bobbed, and he inhaled as if to speak, but then he shook his head and pressed his lips tightly together.

He doffed his hat. “Take care, Empress.” Then he tiptoed from the room.

Once he was out of sight, I eased myself from the bed. I hadn't walked in several days without someone assisting me, but I managed to stumble to the window and lean out. I wanted to see the Spirit-Hunters go.

Daniel and Jie soon scurried from the front door beneath me. They hit the grass and jogged over the yard toward the road—toward Market Street. Below a streetlamp I could see a poised, top-hatted figure. I was glad Joseph was back to his usual elegance, though I was certain he bore permanent scars too.

Just before Jie and Daniel reached the street, Daniel stopped. He twirled around and gazed up at me, as if he had sensed my eyes on his back. He strode a few steps toward me, paused, and then strode two more.

He slung his cap off and pressed it to his chest. Then, with the casual grace that marked all of his movements, he dropped to one knee and bowed his head.

He was declaring fealty to his empress.

I laughed—I couldn't help it. The absurdity of it all. The bittersweet sting. When he lifted back up, I saw he too wore a smile. He waved with his cap, and after flopping it back on his head, he swiveled and trotted to the street. Then, without another look back, the Spirit-Hunters left.

I limped to my bed, exhausted from my standing stint. I wanted to leave this hospital soon, but I needed more time to recover. Eventually, I would be out. Mama needed me, and I had a new life to create. New dreams to dream. A left hand to learn to use.

I would see the Spirit-Hunters again. I was certain of it. There was an enormous world out there, filled with Josephs and Jies and Daniels—and I wanted to see it and to meet them. I wanted to experience
everything
.

Mama had been right. Wounds would heal, grief would pass, but a reputation could never be recovered—and in my case, nor could innocence. But that was perfectly fine.

“The fault is not in our stars,” I whispered to the ceiling. “But in ourselves. This was my choice.”

I drifted into a healing sleep and dreamed of Elijah's smile.