Camille (12 page)

Dr. Bennett walked to the small cabinet near
the door. “I’ve already thought of that, Camille.” He pulled out
three, wide leather straps.” I found these when we went through
your father’s things. They must have been from the hospital where
he did research.”

“What on earth would he have needed with
those?” Deep down I knew my father’s experiments had gotten out of
control along with his obsession over transmutation. I stopped my
imagination before it could start forming images.

“Strider will see those and think you’re
going to torture him.”

Dr. Bennett laid the straps across the seat
of the chair he’d carried into the lab. They were nothing more than
strips of heavy animal hide, and yet, they brought forth dark
visions of medieval dungeons and asylums. Dr. Bennett opened the
bag from the apothecary.

“Be careful, John. The lancet sprung open
while we walked. Although, I think it’s safely lodged inside an
apple.”

Dr. Bennett cautiously lifted out the wounded
fruit and glanced at me with a puzzled expression.

I smiled weakly. “Tis a dull story. I better
check on our visitor.” I turned to leave.

“I’ll talk to the lad and explain what must
be done and the precautions that must be taken,” Dr. Bennett
said.

Strider was browsing through the collection
of newspapers we kept stacked in the corner. We only saved the ones
with significant headlines. He looked up as I entered, and his eyes
told me something was wrong. “All of these front pages are about
mysterious deaths and dog attacks.”

I stopped in the middle of the room not sure
how to respond. The pallor of his face made it clear he had deduced
what it all meant. “Nathaniel, I meant to tell you…”

“The last date was the morning after I was
attacked in the cemetery. The fish cart man, he was the werewolf
who bit me.”

I nodded and walked toward him, but he raised
a hand to stop me. “And you and the doctor killed him?”

My hands were shaking. The warm air in the
room suffocated me. “He would have killed others. You were one of
the fortunate ones.”

An angry laughed escaped his lips.
“Fortunate? Is that what you call it?”

Dr. Bennett appeared in the doorway. His
pleasant smile slumped immediately to a frown as he spotted the
newspapers surrounding Strider. “We don’t mean you harm, Mr.
Strider. Our intentions are honest. We are trying to help you.”

I unlocked my knees and took two steps
forward. His retreat was stopped by the wall behind him. “Please,
Nathaniel, it’s our only chance.”

His eyes glossed with intensity. “Our only
chance? You mean my only chance. If you cannot find a way to stop
this, I’ll be the dead one. You two will continue with your queer
life of microscopes, books, and hunts.”

Dr. Bennett stepped into the room. Strider’s
gaze flew to the window as if he contemplated jumping.

I twisted around. “John, please let us have a
moment alone.” Dr. Bennett hesitated. “Please, John.”

He left, but if I knew him at all, he
remained nearby in the hall.

It seemed there was more hurt in Strider’s
expression than fear. This time as I moved closer to him, he did
not back away. The anguish in his eyes compelled me to touch him. I
lifted my hand to his face. I prayed that he would not flinch and
he didn’t. In fact, his response startled me as he pressed his
cheek harder against my palm. “I haven’t lied to you. We are trying
to help you.”

He shook his head, dislodging my hand before
sliding past me to the pile of papers. They flew into the air and
scattered over the rug and furniture. “You have lied. Nowhere in
your promise did you mention death.”

It took all my will not to move closer to him
again. “Hunting werewolves is a wretched occupation. Believe me, I
would rather be anywhere than stuck in this cycle of horror. But
that is why we so badly want to find a way to stop it.”

He faced me. “You’ll have to do so without
me. I’ll not be poked and prodded like a pig going to market. No
doubt my friends are wondering what happened to me. I think it best
if I take my leave.”

He headed to the door.

“I never took you for a coward, Nathaniel
Strider.”

I knew the words would have effect and they
did. He stopped and twisted back around. “I’m no coward.”

“Yes, you are.”

He kicked the table onto its side sending
several of the strewn papers into the flaming hearth.

“Camille?” Dr. Bennett called from the
hallway.

“We’re fine, John.” The truth was my own
courage was beginning to wane. Strider opened and closed his fists,
a sure sign that rage simmered just below the surface. But this
would be my only chance. “I had a completely different opinion of
you until just a few moments ago.”

“And I of you,” he blurted. His chest heaved
with deep breaths, and his eyes seemed to darken in color.

“Yes, now you know. I am not merely some
pushy girl who hides under boy’s clothing and has no social life. I
hunt dangerous beasts. I’ll bet none of your sweethearts on Buck’s
Row have ever faced down a snarling werewolf, or worse, come across
the shredded remains of a victim.” My bluntness seemed to be taking
its toll on him … and on me. My throat ached but I was
desperate.

“Pray, say no more.” His hands relaxed, and
the blood seemed to drain from his face and lips. Strider walked to
the chair and dropped into it, placing his elbows on his thighs and
his face in his palms. “You’re right. I’m a bloody coward.”

I sat across from him and took hold of one of
his wrists. I brought the palm of his hand to my mouth and kissed
it. Never had I done anything like it before but it felt right with
him. I released his hand. “I lied. You’re no coward. A two-bit
thief and a cad, perhaps, but not a coward.”

He looked up at me. His eyes had softened.
“Trousers or not, you’re still pushy.”

“I promise I won’t let anything happen to
you, Nathaniel.” The words sprung from my heart, and my head was
all too aware of how ridiculous they sounded.

His lip turned up in a half smile. “Tiny
sprite like yourself? And how do you intend to do that?”

I tapped the side of my temple. “I’m only
tiny on the outside. My brain outweighs the rest of me.” I sat up
straight. “I’ve just had a brilliant thought. Chloral hydrate.”

He lifted his brow. “You are the strangest
lass.”

“It’s a sleep inducer. I saw it on the shelf
in the lab. You could take some, then Dr. Bennett can draw a blood
sample while you sleep.”

“How much of that would it take to make me
sleep and never wake?” He scrubbed his face with his hands and
leaned back. His long lashes fluttered down as he closed his eyes.
Good food and rest had not completely erased the hunger and
sleeplessness of street life. But then he’d come to us for those
comforts only to discover the sinister price behind it.

His face relaxed. Somehow I’d managed to
convince him to stay. At least for now.

His brown eyes opened, and he twisted one of
the brass buttons on his coat. “My brother used to tell me stories
about humans who grew fangs and walked on all fours when the moon
was full. But I always thought they were made up stories to scare
the wits out of a younger brother.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“He’s gone now. He was a sailor. I’d planned
on becoming a man of the sea like ‘im. When I was ten, I waited
three days at the dock for his ship to come home. His ship came
home, but Jacob wasn’t on it. He’d been washed overboard by a rogue
wave. The captain handed me his coat, patted me on the head, and
that was the end of it. The only person left in the world who cared
about me was gone.”

My white strand of hair fell onto my face,
and I tucked it behind my ear. “Now you have two people who care
about you.”

He struggled to suppress a smile, but the
lines around his mouth gave it away.

Dr. Bennett peered around the corner. “John,
it’s all right. I had an idea, though. Couldn’t you give Nathaniel
some chloral hydrate to sleep while you draw blood?” In my mind,
all I could envision was Dr. Bennett pulling out those hideous
leather straps. They would surely send Strider fleeing from the
house forever.

Dr. Bennett looked at the upturned table,
disarray of books, and scattered papers then turned back to me.
“Indeed. I’ll calculate a harmless dosage, and he can wash it down
with a bit of whiskey.”

Strider’s face brightened with the mention of
whiskey. He seemed, now more than ever, to be paying attention as
if his life depended upon it.

“I’ll get everything ready,” Dr. Bennett said
as he left the room.

Heat that had suffocated me earlier felt
comforting now as it radiated through the room. We waited in near
silence for Dr. Bennett. The clinking of glass and other sounds
from the laboratory caused Strider to fidget in the chair. One
sudden move or one wrong word and, surely, he would shoot from the
house like a bullet from a pistol. He stared at his palm, the one
I’d kissed. I had shocked myself with my actions. I don’t know how
I had the courage to do it, but I desperately wanted him to know
that I cared about him and that our motives were true and honest.
Now I felt embarrassed.

“It is not something I normally do,” I
stammered.

“What’s that?”

“I don’t normally kiss boys on the hand.” I
drew circles on the arm of my chair with my finger and watched my
invisible drawing to avoid looking at him. Warmth smoldered from my
neck to my ears.

“Tis a practice you might take up more
often.”

He always knew exactly what to say to produce
a dark pink blush on my face. I fanned my cheeks to cool them.

Strider stood abruptly, and I jumped up too,
replaying in my head what I’d done and said in the last few moments
that might have made him change his mind. The look on my face must
have told him I was worried.

He forced a weak smile, walked to the table,
and set it back on its legs. I helped him pick up the fallen books.
When everything was back in place, he straightened and raked back
his long hair with his fingers. “I’ll be back, Camille. I
promise.”

My heart thumped in my chest, and I was sure
he had to hear it. Speechless, I watched him walk to the door. This
change of mind happened so quickly, I had nothing left in my idea
pool to convince him to stay. He had promised to return, but he had
every right not to. We had not been open with him from the
beginning. Behind the polite offering of vegetable stew, hot baths,
and warm beds, there always lay the ominous notion of the eventual
hunt.

I held the back of the chair to keep from
following him and to keep myself from doing something foolish, like
throw myself at his feet and beg him not to go.

Strider stopped in the hall and looked back
over his shoulder at me. His expression was meant to reassure me of
his return, but I wasn’t convinced.

Dr. Bennett came rushing into the sitting
room. “I thought I heard the front door.”

I walked to the window and watched as Strider
disappeared down the street. “He promised to return,” I said
quietly. The sky had become crowded with gray clouds. Short bursts
of wind blew the trees back and forth like a line of dancers.
“There’s a storm coming.”

Dr. Bennett lit a cigar and sat in the same
chair Strider had been in moments ago. He rarely smoked inside,
convinced that I should not be inhaling the fumes. “Then, I
suppose, all we can do is wait.”

I knew after ten minutes, I had to find
myself an occupation or go mad with worry. Maggie, who came in only
twice a week, had forgone the task of dusting, and a greasy layer
coated everything in the sitting room. “This place is not fit for a
pack of rats,” I said as I stood to retrieve a cleaning rag from
the kitchen.

Dr. Bennett looked up from the letter he’d
received this morning. “That’s good, is it not? Now we won’t have
to worry about a pack of rats moving in.”

If my nerves had not been twisted tightly, I
might have laughed. I headed to the kitchen and returned with the
cloth.

Not really paying attention to my chore, I
kept an ear tuned to the front door hoping for footsteps or some
sign of his return. Dr. Bennett drew together his graying eyebrows
as he read the post. He folded the letter and dropped it in his
lap. “Remarkable.”

“’Tis not the first time I’ve cleaned,” I
protested.

“No, this letter.” He lifted it from his lap.
“It is from a colleague of mine who is studying in Germany. It
seems a scientist by the name of Miescher has been studying
surgical wraps from infected wounds.”

“Please do not continue if the story gets
more nauseating. My stomach is already bundled into a knot.”

“The rest is not gory. It seems this Meischer
was able to separate the nuclei from the white blood cells he
studied. And in the nuclei, he isolated a unique chemical substance
made up mostly of the element phosphorus. He calls it nucein.”

“And what is the importance of this
substance?”

He smiled. “Cami, science does not happen
that quickly. He has isolated it. But its significance is still
unknown. However, it’s an exciting discovery.”

The floorboards in the hallway creaked, and
our attention shot to the doorway. My shoulders sank as Dutch
strolled in, tail straight up behind as if the animal had convinced
itself that the terrifying visitor had left because of its own
snarling protests. My dust rag was full with fine black soot, and
my task had grown wearisome. Dutch circled my legs, signaling that
I’d forgotten the extremely important task of feeding him.

Two hours had passed since Strider left. I
stepped out onto the front stoop and hugged myself tightly against
the clammy cold. A heavy drizzle battered the smoke haze hovering
above the street, dissolving it into rivulets of liquid ash. The
glowing gas lamps added reflections of muted colors across the
slick pavement. Workers and shoppers were bundled deep in their
coats and hats as they scurried to the warmth of their homes. But
there was no tall, black head amongst them.