Bride of the Night (23 page)

Everyone was topside; none of the men were sleeping.

As she ate, Tara tried to speak with all the men, pretending that she wasn't aware of the way they all looked at her, wondering just what might lurk in her mind.

When she had finished with her fish and thanked Billy Seabold and the others, she found that Captain Tremblay was behind her. He wanted to lure her back to the helm with him.

She looked at him.
No! It can't be this man, it can't be!

But she let herself be led.

The captain excused Grissom, who had been at the wheel, and took over the helm himself. And as he looked ahead he asked her, “Can you see the future? Can you really see the dead?”

“I see some things,” she said.

He nodded, still looking ahead. Richard and Finn were together, she noticed. And she was certain they were both aware of her situation.

She forced herself to stand still; Tremblay seemed to be shaking. His hands on the wheel were knotted hard.

“God help me…is the war ending?” he asked.

She tried not to let him see the instant frown that creased her forehead. “I believe so, sir.”

“But you don't…
see
it?”

“No,” she told him quietly. “I know what you know, sir. That the South is drastically short on supplies, that the young men die and cannot be replaced. That the North, with its great manufacturing abilities, is making more and more guns, and that more and more immigrants are stepping off ships to join the Union ranks. I believe that generals such as Lee are desperately hoping for a great victory to turn the tide—and God knows, Lee is a great general—but his men and his resources are being depleted.”

Tremblay winced. “Do you see
me
surviving the war?”

Tara was surprised by his question, but even more surprised when it seemed that her vision clouded. She was looking at Tremblay, but she was not seeing him as he stood at the helm. She saw him, stricken, holding his chest, with a pool of blood surrounding him. The image was so strong that for a moment she felt as if she would cry out loud. She gave herself a mental shake, and she spoke quickly, “Captain Tremblay, I can't see all futures—really, I can't.”

But what had she seen?

Shaken, she excused herself quickly.

She headed back to the center of the ship where others were still milling, finishing their meals. Grissom sat up on the rail, playing his harmonica. But no one was laughing or joking, and the songs that Grissom played only added to the melancholy.

She walked over to stand by Richard and Finn and she said quietly, “I think I should go back to the cabin.”

“I'll escort you,” Finn said.

When he entered the cabin, he made a thorough search of the small space before sighing and taking a seat at the desk, the look upon his face one of deep frustration.

“Anything?” he asked her. “Anything at all?”

She wanted to go to him, to touch his face, to curl up on his lap and somehow be able to reassure him that they would be all right. But they weren't all right, and she was afraid. She shook her head. “I'm sorry. Tremblay…I was afraid that I saw him dying when he spoke to me. And Billy wanted to know about a friend. And I tried to look at each man and see how he looked at me in return, but…nothing.”

Finn nodded, looking toward the curtained windows. “Darkness is coming quickly,” he said. “And now, I'm afraid for you to go out among them, afraid of what I've done. Still, I see no other alternative.”

She didn't get a chance to answer him; she wasn't able to say that it was all right. There was a demanding knock at the door and a cry for help. “Finn! Agent Dunne!”

Finn rose quickly and threw the door open. Dr. MacKay was standing there. There was a slash on his face and blood oozed from it; he seemed unaware.

“What is it, man? For God's sake, what is it?” Finn demanded.

“Down below…we don't even know how it started, but the men are all at one another—they're afraid of each other…?. It's horrible!” MacKay shouted.

“I'm coming,” Finn said. He turned to Tara. “Lock yourself in here. Don't let anyone in, anyone but me!”

He hurried out the door. MacKay stared at Tara so long she thought that he was going to smile suddenly.

“MacKay!” Finn said.

Dr. MacKay turned and followed Finn out of the room.

Tara began to pace. She looked at the door and longed to follow the men below and find out what was happening.

The ship gave a sudden pitch, nearly sending her to the floor.

There was no one at the helm, she thought.

She chafed, catching her balance, standing for a moment to feel the yaw and move beneath her.

She couldn't just stay there!

“Tara!”

There was a banging at her door, and the muffled sound of someone calling her in great distress.

Don't open the door;
Finn had told her not to open the door.

She stood still, waiting. She heard the voice again.

“Tara, please! Tara, it's Richard!”

Richard! Of course he had not meant Richard. She walked quickly to the door, drew the bolt and opened it.

Richard staggered in. There was blood dripping
down his forehead, covering part of his shirt and crusted around his neck.

“Sit down, sit down, quickly, before you fall!” she told him, grabbing his arm and dragging him to the chair. “What happened? What's going on? Where's Finn?”

“Finn…he's trying to…restore some kind of order.”

“What happened?”
she demanded.

“I don't even know…don't know where it started. We were suddenly all defending ourselves from…from one another. One of the men…London! He looked at me and cut me with his knife. And then the others thought it was me, and I cried out that London had started it, and he cried out saying that it was another…and suddenly we were all belowdeck, and no one knows who started attacking who and—”

“Let me see to your wounds,” Tara said.

“No, no!” he said, trying to push her away.

“Richard, damn you, sit still!” she said.

She jerked his hand away from his throat, and it was then that she saw the marks there that told her the truth. He had been bitten. He jumped to his feet with a sudden strength and energy that astounded her, and she fell back, staring at him.

“Richard, you need a doctor, and you need one fast,” she told him.

He looked at her, shaking his head. “I have to stop you,” he said, his voice thick. “I…” He paused, as if in great confusion. “I…have to stop you.”

He lumbered toward her. She gripped him by the shoulders, and was surprised by the electric feel of him, and the strength in him.

“Richard! Stop!”
she commanded.

To her relief, he fell back. Again, confusion reigned in his face, and a sudden sob escaped him. “I don't know…I don't understand. My God, what has taken hold of me?”

He fell back against the wall. “I am to kill you,” he said, horrified.

Then he brought hands to his temples, as if he could squeeze his mind between them. “He's telling me that I have to kill you, but I cannot—a thousand bees are stinging my head!”

He pushed away from the wall. He shook his head and stared at her, and it seemed as if his eyes burned, and then went blank. Her sword rested on the desk. Richard reached for it. She knew that he was an excellent swordsman; he had taught her how to fight.

He came at her, and she waited. When he was almost upon her, she sprang into a leap and jumped over his head, pushing off the ceiling as a springboard and coming down hard upon his back. She latched onto him with a vice grip, but he shook her off and turned.

“Richard, it is me, Tara. I am your best friend. I am your sister, and you don't want to hurt me. God knows, I don't want to hurt you!” she cried.

He paused. His arm went slack.

There were tears in his eyes. “I love you!” he said.

She went forward swiftly, hoping to wrest the sword from him while he stood in weakness.

But the fire shot back into his eyes. He clenched the sword with an iron grasp and she nearly impaled herself upon it.

“Richard, no!”

He came forward in a single bound, pinning her to the desk. He started to raise the sword.

“Richard, it's Tara, your friend, your lifelong friend! Stop!”

He stood, frozen, staring at her, and again the tears appeared in the depths of his eyes.

“No, no, no!”
he cried out.

He was frozen above her; she didn't know if he would gain control, or if the sword would fall.

But the door burst open.

Finn rushed in, and the sword was ripped from Richard's arms. Finn spun him around, ready to use the sword to decapitate Richard.

“No!” Tara cried, rushing forward, and forcing Finn to stay his blade.

“Tara, he's been bitten, infected,” Finn said harshly.

“But he can be cured! I know he can be cured. Finn, no!” she cried.

They heard a scream from the deck.

Finn drew his pistol. Tara screamed herself, certain that he meant to ignore her for the good of the nation and shoot Richard point-blank.

But he didn't.

He brought the gun smashing hard against Richard's skull, and her old friend went down without a sound and lay in a heap on the floor.

“Bind him well,” Finn ordered. “Make sure he cannot escape, do you understand me? Next time, I will have to kill him.”

More cries had arisen from the deck. Tara did as bidden, using sheets and ripping down the curtains to assure herself that she could bind Richard's wrists and ankles, and then tie him to the bed.

When she finished, she heard more cries from the deck. She couldn't stay there when beyond the door men were dying, and a demon had created mayhem.

She threw open the door. Captain Tremblay stood before her.

Stood, as he had in her vision, earlier that day.

His crisp white naval shirt was covered in blood.

She cried out and hurried to him.

And he fell into her arms.

Looking around, she saw that the men all engaged in battle against one another. It was horrible to behold. She looked at Captain Tremblay's throat, and she found no marks. She dragged him back into the cabin and laid him upon the stripped bed.

Quickly, she ripped open his shirt and discovered that he had taken a stab wound to his chest. She staunched it the best she could, and tried to feel the depth of it. He was losing a great deal of blood. She had to stop the flow.

As she did so, the door burst open.

MacKay. He was gasping for breath, and like the others, he seemed to have been sprayed with blood. His eyes were wide and panicked, and he stumbled into the room. He grasped her arm, hard, and for a moment, panic seized her. She leaped to her feet, throwing him off. He went flying against the cabin wall, and sank down, dazed. He didn't even seem to realize that she had thrown him off.

“It's bedlam! Blood, there's so much blood—everyone attacking everyone!”

Tara walked over to him, reached down for his hands and jerked him to his feet. When he was standing, she slapped him hard against the cheek.

He let out a cry of indignation, and his eyes flew wide open. And then he stared at her and let out a long breath, moaning softly.

“My God, I am a coward,” he said remorsefully.

“You have to help the captain. He is bleeding to death. I've tried to stop the flow, but you must do something,” she said.

“The captain!” he said, and he seemed to recover his senses. Richard groaned, and MacKay seemed to notice him for the first time.

“What…you have him trussed like a Christmas pig,” he said, staring at Tara. “Not Richard, oh, Lord, not Richard…”

“No, not Richard, but he's been bitten. Don't let
him up. Go over there, and help the captain!” she commanded.

“Yes, yes, of course, the captain.”

MacKay rushed to Captain Tremblay's side and quickly removed the wad of cloth Tara had used to stop the flow of blood. She saw him probe the captain and study the wound. “No vital organs have been hit. It is not too deep, though it bleeds severely. I can staunch the flow and clean the wound—alcohol, whatever you have in here—but he'll need proper stitches,” he said.

Tara hurried to obey his request, digging in the desk for a bottle of rum.

“I need my bag,” he told her. “I need my sutures and needles.”

“Where are they?”

“Below, beneath the lowest bunk closest to the aft,” he told her.

“I will get them. Whatever you do, don't let Richard loose!”

She rose and headed to the cabin door.

The cries and the awful sound of swordplay, steel against steel, could still be heard from the deck.

She started out. As she did so, Billy Seabold fell back against the wall of the cabin. He looked exhausted; his sword had fallen to his side.

“Billy, are you injured?” she asked quickly.

“I don't know…I don't know…?. Help me, oh, God, please help me, Tara!”

He was about to topple over fully but she caught
him, dragging him back into the cabin. It was growing crowded but she found a place on the floor, near the bunk.

“Another!” MacKay said, groaning. “My supplies will not go so far!”

Tara bent over Billy herself. His eyes had closed, and she touched his cheek.

When he opened his eyes, he looked up at her and smiled. “You are really so sweet, Tara. What a pity. I began to tell you that tale about Eric, and all you wanted to do was reassure me. But, of course, there was no Eric…?.”

It wasn't until his last words registered in her mind that Tara realized the awful truth of it all.

He gripped her shoulders, and his hold was so powerful that she thought her bones would shatter. He threw her from him and came to his feet. MacKay cried out with a sound of horror, and remained frozen next to the unconscious captain.