Bride of the Night (17 page)

“Gather our family and friends,” the mayor said to his wife.

“I'll move on to speak with the curate,” Finn told Pete. “You see that his family reaches the church safely.”

The Seminole nodded. Finn hurried to the street. As he did so, he noticed that the wind suddenly picked up from the northwest. It was a chill wind, and he remembered a long time ago when his mother would shiver at times, looking at the sky.
A chill wind. A wicked chill wind comes, one that will do no good. Always take care in such a wind, my love.

He could almost hear her words aloud as he stood there.

Quickly, he mounted his horse, wishing he had Pie
bald, who knew the slightest inflection of his voice, the least movement of his thighs. But he did not. He began to rue the fact that he allowed Tara to remain at the fort. He was now feeling the responsibility of the civilians weigh down upon him, and he wanted her near.

Distances were short on the island, and so he was at the church in record time, and he saw that the mayor's valet had run quickly. The rectory was on the side street, and as Finn dismounted, he noted the two men standing on the steps of the rectory. The young priest was standing in a long white nightdress, listening to the valet try to explain.

Finn went quickly along the path and up the few steps to the porch. “Father Timothy, dress quickly. I will see that the bells are rung. Gather everyone to the church.”

The fellow looked at him. He was no more than twenty or twenty-one years of age with a head full of tousled brown hair. He frowned, but stared at Finn a long time. “I believe my faith will be tested tonight.”

Finn nodded grimly. “How do I reach the belfry?”

“My name is Tito, sir. I will see to the alarm,” the mayor's man said. “I dared not speak, but I have seen such horror before. In Haiti. I saw many die. I saw survivors weep, and burn those they killed. I will sound the alarm.”

“I must dress,” Father Timothy said.

“I will wait for you,” Finn told him gravely.

When the priest was adorned in his clerical robes and a large cross made of silver, he joined Finn in the
parlor and they started across to the church, listening to the peal of the bells.

Even as the priest let them into the church by the side door, citizens began to arrive. Some had come with nothing. Some carried carpetbags or blankets, and one man had a large bottle of rum. The local physician had come with his bag.

“Are we finally besieged?” one anxious fisherman asked first, running down the aisle to the priest.

“If you'll take seats in the pews for now, people, this gentleman will explain the situation.”

The mayor had arrived, and he walked down the aisle with bustling authority.

“We are living in a time of war, though sometimes it feels that the bloody battlefields are far from us,” he announced, glancing at the priest and at Finn. “Agent Dunne is going to tell us what we're up against.”

“Agent Dunne?” someone demanded. “What kind of an agent is he?”

“I'm with the Pinkerton agency.”

“Yankee spies!” someone else shouted.

Finn raised a hand. “I'm not here on either side of the great schism. I'm here in the name of humanity.”

“Spy!”

“Mayor, why are we listening to the enemy?” another demanded.

“Have you forgotten that there are enemies out there other than your brothers?”
a voice demanded, rising hard and high.

 

Finn looked down the far end of the aisle to see it was Pete, now walking down to join him, outwardly calm but with a forceful tone.

“This man has come, risking himself and what he holds to his heart, to warn you. Strangers! To teach you. You see my face, and you'll remember that our people went to war, and your children died, and my children died. And then the war waned to a close, and the hatred remained. Now, you look at faces just like your own. You look at your own blood, and you call your friend your enemy. Forget the color of my skin, or the blue of an enemy uniform. The foe we face tonight is like no other that you have met, and there is no code of warfare, no decency, no captives, and the sweet and innocent are taken just as the warrior is taken. Listen to this man!”

As he stopped speaking, an eerie shriek came from the skies, out of the night. The sound of birds' wings, thousands of them, flapping in the night, seemed to sweep over the church.

“Get everyone in! Everyone!” Finn cried. “Hurry!”

He ran down the aisle to the main entry, throwing the doors open. Townspeople were still coming. Some had paused to look at the sky, trying to make sense of the beating of the wings in the night and the screech that had sounded like something from hell.

Finn raced outside, shouting, “Get in, get in!”

Looking up, it appeared that there was a large bird in the sky, creating a darker shadow in the deep blue-black of the night. It moved, just as would a bird in flight.

“Hurry!” he shouted, sweeping up a little girl and running ahead, urging her parents to follow.

People drew closer, aware of the shadow in the sky. Finn didn't want a panic, but he did want them moving as quickly as possible. He saw that Pete had dashed around to the side, hurrying people around the grave of an old sea commander. Running back in and down the aisle, he found Father Timothy speaking reassuringly and ushering people into seats.

“Line the inside walls and especially the doors with holy water,” he told the holy man.

Father Timothy looked at him, wide-eyed. “You're—you're serious.”

“As death. Do it, Father, please.”

He went back out. For some families, it was harder. A few had brought buggies, others had ridden, but some were still straggling down the street.

A man stood next to him as if dumbfounded, staring at the figure of a woman who was moving slowly along the side road.

“Marybelle!” he breathed.

Finn took a good look at her, frowning.

“Marybelle!” the man shouted. He started to run toward her.

Finn grabbed his arm. “Who is that?” he demanded.

The man looked at him, blue eyes not really seeing, his gray bearded face working into a picture of astonishment.

“My wife…my wife…” the man said, his voice chok
ing on tears. “We tried to save her…but she died the night before last. We buried her this morning. But, oh, God, but she's alive!” He started toward the woman.

“No!” Finn cried. He raced after the man, catching him just before they reached her.

“Marybelle!” he cried as Finn tackled him.

Marybelle was covered in dirt; her arms and head seemed to be at an old angle. She let out a screech of fury and pounced toward them. Finn thrust the man out of the way. The reborn woman fell on him with tremendous strength. She tossed her head back; her canine teeth grew, wet and glistening. She made a lunge for Finn's throat.

Throwing her aside, he leaped upon her, reaching to his ankle holster for his knife. As he raised the knife above Marybelle, her distraught husband cried out again. “No, no!” He knocked Finn over, and the vampire jumped up with another horrible banshee scream, charging for her grieving husband once again.

“No, man, you've got to let her go!” Finn cried. He managed to push the man just before his wife embraced him, mouth open, fangs now fully developed and inches from his throat.

Finn was up. He wrenched the woman back by the shoulders and spun her around. When she came for him, he was ready this time, catching her from ear to ear with the knife in his hand. She fell to the ground, shaking up and down in sweeping spasms.

“My God, my God, she was dead…but she was alive…?.”

“She's dead, and at peace now. Get into the church!” Finn told him.

Another family group was coming from the south. Finn rushed to them, hurrying them along. When he got them in, he looked out upon a darkened street. No one else seemed to be coming.

“Listen!” Finn cried out. “It's a disease that can make the dead appear to walk. They're not your loved ones! Come into the church, stay away from the windows. Wait it out here until daylight. The only way they can be killed is if the heart is destroyed, or if the head is
fully
removed. You may think again that the dead have risen. They have not—they are tainted, they are sick.”

“They are like puppets, playing to their own hunger, and a puppet master,” Seminole Pete, standing stoically by him, said. “Listen to me—you know me. You know that I do not lie!”

They heard the loud sound of wings in the air again, screeches and screams, as if they were about to be attacked by all the harpies of ancient Greece.

For a moment, everyone in the church stood still. Then children clung to their mothers, and men sat in fear, listening.

The sound came again. And when it seemed the wings were deafening, the sound stopped.

“In the trees,” someone murmured.

“They're out there,” Father Timothy said.

A thump sounded, and then another.

And then another.

All was silent again.

Father Timothy started down the aisle, toward the front. He paused by Finn.

“You've sprinkled the holy water all along the walls?” Finn asked softly.

“Yes.” He looked at Finn. “They're out there, aren't they?”

“Yes.”

“What are they? Spawn from hell?”

Finn didn't answer. “Please…listen,” was all he said.

As they did so, they heard someone out in the night, someone hailing them.

“Hello? Hello? Where is everyone? Hello! Father Timothy?”

Father Timothy started for the door. Finn caught his arm.

Timothy looked at him. “That's Jasper Hawkins. Him and his wife, probably, and his little girl and boy. They're from the far south side of the island, have a farm over there. We have to open the door to them.”

Before Finn could answer, they heard a scream.

“Help! Oh, my God, help!”

A dozen men rose.

“We can't sit here like this! We'll take them on, damn it!” one man roared.

“No! Stay here. I'll get them in. Do not leave the
church. Father Timothy, get these pews broken up. You need stakes. Yes—stakes! Get to it, all of you!”

The sound of the scream came again.

Finn drew his sword and went out to meet the undead.

W
AITING FOR
P
ETE AND
F
INN
to return seemed to take an eternity. The entire fort was edgy and on guard.

Captain Calloway seemed willing to accept what advice Tara had to give him, and everyone remained together in a group. One person could turn another, but in a group, someone would certainly notice such a thing, and therefore all were called to muster—and the living and the dead were all accounted for.

Calloway didn't argue the removal of the heads. The killed would be decapitated and thrown into the sea.

While men were busy at their tasks, they heard the town's church bells begin to peal.

The sound made a horrible force in Tara's heart. She was afraid when she heard them, even when she knew they were only a warning.

Richard stood with her in the parade ground, listening.

“Sounds like a death knell.”

Captain Tremblay walked up to stand by them. “Or a dinner bell…” he said quietly.

She shook her head. “Finn is calling them to the church. It's the safest place.”

“The fort would be the safest place, wouldn't it?” Tremblay asked.

“I don't think so,” Tara said. She looked at Tremblay. He was watching the walls of the fort, but he knew, because he had seen with his own eyes, that evil could slip behind the high walls with little effort. “Besides, there might not have been enough time.”

“What's that?” Richard asked and pointed up.

Looking up, they could see a formation in the sky.

“Birds? In such a flock? At night?” Tremblay asked speculatively.

Tara shook her head. She looked at Richard. “I have to go.”

“Are you insane?”

“No…I'm the only one who can really help.”

“Finn knows what he's doing. You said so yourself,” he argued.

Tara was surprised when she felt Tremblay's hand on her shoulder. “She may be right.”

“She's not,” Richard argued. “Tara—”

A strange screeching filled the sky.

Tara walked a few steps from them. She clenched her hands into fists at her sides and gnawed hard on her lower lip.

“He's going to need help,” she said.

“I can arrange for some men—” Tremblay began.

“No, keep the men here together. We have to hope that whatever monster came among us tonight is now
busy with the hordes beyond the walls. I have to go alone.”

“And you're going to just walk out, past Captain Calloway?” Tremblay asked.

“No,” she admitted, looking at Richard.

“Don't ask her, and you'll be happier,” Richard said. He caught her by the shoulders. “You're not invulnerable,” he reminded her. “You are…who you are, but you've never been in a real battle before…before the island.”

“I'll be careful, Richard, I swear.”

He hugged her to him. She felt him trembling. “I'd stop you if I could,” he told her.

“I know. I'm glad you can't.”

Tremblay interrupted. “We shall hold down this fort, young lady. See what you can do for the people now.” He wrinkled his face in a grimace. “I've been spit at a time or two around here, but that's no reason to make the citizens face this!”

She smiled, gave him a kiss on the cheek and slipped away.

She might still be learning about battle, but as a child she had learned to test her abilities. Sometimes, of course, this had infuriated her mother, but she still had to know what her unique talents were.

Eyeing the fortress, she decided on the far wall, where the shadows were deepest to escape undetected.

Certain that no one had seen her scale the wall, she
began to run, and she let the breeze carry her along. She could still hear the church bells peeling.

And she could still hear the horrible sound of the screeching on the air.

And the screams that naturally seemed to follow that sound.

 

A
STRANGE HUSH QUELLED
the noises of the night as Finn stepped outside the church. The creatures, possibly longing to play with their prey, had gone silent. A little distance off, they stood together like a massive, wing-shaped shadow, blocking the way into the church.

Finn stood still, watching.

He saw the man who must be Jasper Hawkins looking into the eyes of the creature before him. Hawkins had his arms around his two children, a little boy of about nine and a girl not much more than six, and he held them protectively against his body. His wife clung to his shoulder, her eyes enormous. Jasper had gotten his breeches on and had thrown on an open shirt; his wife and daughter were still in bleached cotton nightdresses. They all seemed to glow white beneath the moon.

Finn viewed the horde of vampires that had taken sight on the people of Key West that night like a pack of wolves. The one facing Jasper Hawkins was a young man dressed in a fine waistcoat and jacket. One, of which Finn could only think of as a lady of the night, had her skirt hiked up and her bodice stretched low and tight over ample breasts. She was licking her lips. The
two were surrounded by four others—an old woman, and three who looked like old salts. Two were in Union uniforms, while the other wore the insignia of a Confederate artillery officer.

Where had they come from? Finn wondered. There was always a leader in such a group, and he was certain that the leader wasn't among them. To have amassed this group of people, care had been taken, the leader keeping them under control. This night, he thought, was part of that control. Whatever monster was pulling the puppet strings wanted to fulfill an agenda, not just create mayhem and murder in the dark.

Finn felt himself move forward like the darkness itself, placing himself between the Hawkins family and the young dandy.

He heard Hawkins gasp and his wife choke back a scream. Finn so startled the dandy vampire creature that he took a step back, but then paused, grinning. “Ah, the feast grows more delectable!” he murmured. “My friends, shall we dine?”

One of the oldest war tactics: take down the head of the beast first. Finn swiftly raised his sword and swiped cleanly. The dandy's head crashed against the roots of an old sea grape. The body stood a moment and crashed to the ground.

Hawkins's wife didn't try to choke back her scream.

Even through that horrible sound, Finn detected the guttural chattering that could begin among a horde of
vampires, the newly created especially, and he knew they'd pounce immediately.

They tried to move on him en masse. He spun with the sword, using a hard backward push to cast the old woman out of his way as he pierced the throat of one of the Union officers. He had to wrench at his sword to get it back from the man's collarbone, costing him precious seconds. The Confederate reached for Hawkins's young wife, and Finn found himself forced to allow his sword to fall while he used his fists to ward off the Confederate.

“Get to the church!” he warned the family. “Get to the church.”

Hawkins gave his wife a shove. “Run!” He swept up his daughter, prodding his son.

Finn wanted to stay with the family; one of the things could easily slip away and rip into the fleeing group while he was hard-pressed with the remaining monsters. But even as he feared trying to divide his attention, he felt a presence at his back.

Tara.

“Finn, the family…I'm good here. Go!”

On the one hand, he'd told her to remain at the fort.

On the other hand, he was grateful as all hell that she had come.

Finn reached down for his sword and tore after the turned soldiers, now nearly upon the family. He caught up with the Union officer first, bringing him down with a double-handed swing of his weapon. He caught the
Confederate soldier just as the thing's fingers grasped into the little girl's dress. He ripped through the man, wrested his sword free and struck again.

Then he dared to turn.

Tara was holding her own just fine. The old woman had risen; her jaw was so wide open it appeared dislocated as she made snapping advances in Tara's direction. But Tara stood tough, and as the old woman approached, she swung, and the woman died so swiftly she might have met the blade of a guillotine.

Finn rushed back to Tara's side as the Hawkins family raced into the church. Dispatching the last two monsters there, they swung around and headed for the church themselves.

Finn barely had time to see it coming—another sweep of shadows, blocking them just when they would have reached the doorway to the church. The one was an enormous Negro man, and the other, a mammoth fellow who would have excellently graced any painting of the Viking days.

Finn nodded to Tara, and they split apart.

This new round of the enemy had not come unarmed; as Finn raised his sword, the Viking came at him with a cavalry saber. The giant black man with rippling muscles took a step toward Tara. His weapon was a massive machete.

For a moment, Finn's heart sank. The weapon was heavy, and she was so small.

But when the Viking swung, Finn lifted his sword to
parry the blow, and for some seconds they were locked together, neither giving ground. Finn willed his strength to the fore and shoved hard against the bigger man. When the creature fell back and swung again, Finn leaped to the side, the blow went through the air, further sending him off balance. Finn responded with a sharp blow to the jaw. His head was not dislodged, but he did stagger, trying to right himself. Finn jumped onto the porch and from there onto the man's back, wielding his knife and killing him from behind. The head fell.

Finn crashed to the ground with the body but rolled clear quickly and rose.

Tara was being forced back against a banyan. Using the tree to her benefit, she slid to the right when the monster's massive weapon came down. The blade struck into the tree. As the giant tried to wedge it free, Tara swung with both hands, slicing through half his neck. Finn rushed forward, finished the job, grabbed her by the arm and went racing into the church.

Father Timothy was at the door; he opened it and dragged them both in, and then slammed it in their wake.

Shaking, Finn looked at Tara. “I told you to stay at the fort!”

“You're lucky I did not!”

“You could have been killed!”

“And you could have been killed!” she countered. “Excuse me,
we
may well have been killed if she didn't come,” Jasper Hawkins said, looking from one
of them to the other. He recognized Tara and spoke to her. “Tara? Tara Fox?”

“Yes, Jasper,” she said quietly.

He stared at her speculatively, but his wife rushed forward, hugging her. “Tara, oh, dear girl, I don't know where you got the strength, but thank you!” She turned to Finn. “I don't know you, sir, but I thank you, as well!”

“Are they coming again?” Father Timothy interrupted, looking at Finn. “How
do
you know so much about them?” Mrs. Hawkins asked.

“I've seen them in other war zones,” Finn said. “Most recently we encountered them up northeastward on another island.”

“But we are on
islands
—we should be safe here,” a woman said softly.

Father Timothy cleared his throat. “How do we combat them—if there are more?”

Finn took a deep breath and looked around. Tara was staring at him, a rueful little twisted smile on her face; she was glad he was the one getting the questions.

He cleared his throat. “It's like a disease.”

“Oh, my God!” the mayor's wife cried softly. “Do you mean…if they touch us, we turn into
that
and then…die, or have to have our heads chopped off, or—”

Her voice was starting to rise hysterically, so Finn cut her off quickly. “No, no, you can survive a scratch or a…bite. But you have to watch for the infection. Our captain and another of our men were wounded, but sur
vived. Above all, you have to do everything possible to keep the wounded alive. If there's a fever, cool it down. If there's an open wound, keep it clean. Use rum, use anything that you have. The disease takes hold when the person appears to have died.”

There was a clamor of fear in the church. Finn raised a hand. “You can learn to defend and protect yourselves. Ladies, too.” He looked at Father Timothy. “Sir, we need holy water. Lots of it. And we need whatever vials you can find, any vessels will do. This will slow them down. Swords remove the head, but you can also kill the creatures with stakes. We can start to make stakes out of the pews. Remember to aim for the heart with them. Destroying the heart means destroying the creature.”

“Stakes,” someone said.

“Are these creatures like…bloodsucking vampires? Something out of old legend?” Hawkins asked, staring at Finn with disbelief.

Finn answered carefully. “All legend has a core of truth to it. The legends surely came from this horrible disease, and yes, once the creatures come back, they thrive on blood.”

“Demons! Demons from hell!” Mrs. Hawkins shouted.

Finn looked at her, still cautious in his speech. “
Evil
things do come from hell.”

“You're saying that holy water can kill them,” Father Timothy pointed out.

“Holy water will hold them back—if you get them in
the face, you can blind them. They know this and will fear it, if they are true evil ones. However, there have been cases where those who come back are
not
evil, and can withstand the hunger for death and blood, and then the church and the holy water do no ill.”

He didn't know what effect he was having on the people. He wanted to scare them, but not to immediately attack Tara should they find out about her, or him. “But, sadly, most often, when created by an evil puppet master, as
you
have suggested,” Finn said, looking at Seminole Pete, “they will never have had the opportunity to learn goodness. You can't risk mercy when there is a wolf-pack-hunting single-mindedness among a group. I know that all of you long to see your loved ones come back. But…you must defend yourselves. Take grave care. Watch for a tinge of red in or around the eyes, and don't be taken in by the longing we all have to see our dead loved ones alive and in our arms again.”