Rising Dark (The Darkling Trilogy, Book 2) (18 page)

Far ahead of me were just three
figures on horseback, the other two horses had been downed,
presumably by bullets, and one was already dead. The last horse was
the source of those terrifying screams, and those were already
starting to diminish. I only stayed long enough to observe one of
the men on horseback dismount and the boom of a gun before I dove
into the ether. I landed, closer now. Luna was sitting on the
ground, Jupiter cradled in her arms as I had seen in Mama Akosua’s
vision, blood darkening his shirt along the shoulder. The
dark-haired boy then levelled the gun at Jupiter, sneering the
entire time.

I was still too far away. I leapt into
the nothingness again, fear that the next time I reappeared it
would be to the image I had seen in the witch’s mind; Luna dead,
half her face blown away. I landed in panic and fear just seconds
from them, nearest to the dark-haired boy with the gun as he lifted
it up to her head. Hearing my footsteps, he instinctively swung the
gun toward me. I directed my mind to the gun and it was wrenched
out of his hand. I used my telekinetic energy to throw it high into
the air and far away. It discharged when it landed, a lonely
gunshot in the dark that no longer had the power to harm. I
disarmed the other two in the same way. Then I was upon
him.

The red mist descended and all reason
left me. All I saw now were the frailties of the human form and the
multitude of ways in which I could destroy it, inflict pain and, of
course, spill blood.

I slaughtered the three men—the first
time I had killed in a blind rage since the massacre on the Foster
plantation. There was only one obstacle between me and Luna now,
one that would not be so easy to remove. Jupiter. She was standing
behind Jupiter, Father Geoffrey praying to their left, and I could
see clearly the mutual affection between the two of them and it
made jealousy rise within me like a wildfire.

Jupiter shoved Luna away from him and
lunged at me, howling. The red mist beckoned. I knocked Father
Geoffrey unconscious and had Jupiter off his feet in the same
motion. Jupiter couldn't move. He gripped my wrists, desperate to
support his weight as I held him by the head. Just as I had held
another of the men moments ago.

A man who was now quite
dead.

Jealous rage and hatred pulsed within
me as he brought his fists down on my face and chest despite the
fact that he was wounded. He was trapped in my grasp, all I had to
do was apply pressure.

“
No
!” Luna’s cry cut through my jealous rage and I glanced at
her, watching her struggle to her feet. Her distress pounded
against me, far more powerful than the blows Jupiter directed at me
in his futile bid to free himself. “
Jupiter! No
!”

I didn’t think. Before she could move
toward him, I grasped Jupiter’s mind, rendered him unconscious and
released him. Luna gasped when seconds later I materialised behind
her and grasped her in my arms, pulling her into the nothingness. I
reappeared near to the trees, pulling her close to me. She screamed
when she saw the other two lying lifeless in the dying light of a
lamp. She was still screaming when I pulled her into the ether
again.

Dawn had come to the dusty, forlorn
drawing room of the abandoned mansion in Louisiana. Luna lay on a
loveseat by the window, a dazzling jewel lit by the deep golden
light of a summer dawn.

I stood by the door in the shadows the
morning light had yet to reach, Luna’s battered green Bible in one
bloodstained hand, turmoil in my heart and mind.

I stared at the blood on my
hands.

A few moments ago, I had used my
mental powers to make Luna fall into a deep sleep, unable to cope
with her fear, distress, and terror—of me. I tore my gaze from my
hands and let them rest on her. My heart clenched painfully at the
sight of her beautiful heart shaped face bathed in the morning
light and I moved out of the shadows to stand before her. Anguish
twisted my features and I clutched her Bible tighter. I could not
stop thinking of the last words she had uttered to me before I
rendered her unconscious.

Take me back home,
please.

I let out a shaky breath, my gaze
returning to the blood on my hands. I remembered all too well
another slave that had uttered similar words to me. I also
remembered her bloodless corpse and the flesh that had been torn
out of her neck.

I took a step away from Luna and moved
back into the shadows.

She could not possibly be the one I
had seen in those visions during my years in the wilderness. Yet I
could not bring myself to leave her. I had believed until now that
only a decade or two had passed since the massacre on the Foster
plantation. But Luna’s thoughts had revealed the year to me. It was
1807. I had been alone, and lost, for fifty years. And when I
uttered my first words to her shortly after spiriting her away, it
was the first time in fifty years that I had spoken to
another.

Turmoil wound itself around me like a
cold, fat snake. I wanted her to stay at this mansion where I could
keep her safe. But she was so frightened of me. How was I supposed
to persuade her to remain here when my very presence induced such
terror?

The only thing I could think of was
Reverend Wentworth. She would have liked and respected him. That
only increased my despair because Reverend Avery Wentworth had
ceased to exist long before now.

Perhaps he was not completely
lost.

If I was to have any hope of gaining
Luna’s trust, then I had to try to rediscover him, remember who I
used to be. As I stood there I realised there were a few steps I
could take to try and bridge the gap between myself, Reverend Avery
Wentworth, and the young woman asleep before me. The first had been
revealed to me when I looked in her mind when she gazed at my
tattered clothing, at the grime and blood I was covered in, and saw
her disgust. The other answer was the Bible in my hand.

Hope bloomed and I clutched the Bible
tighter. I placed a mental command in Luna’s mind that would
prevent her from trying to leave in my absence. Then I left the
mansion into the punishing sunlight and broke into a
run.

I already knew who to go to, for I had
passed him on numerous occasions over the years. I ran knowing that
when I returned to the mansion at dusk, things would be
different.

***

The person I needed to see was an old
Negro who lived on the outskirts of the town, not too far from the
mansion. He had been captured in Africa as a boy and brought here,
although his native tongue along with the life he lived before
America, had long succumbed to the foggy mists of time. He was a
gifted tailor and had been fortunate enough to buy his freedom
years ago. He lived on his own in a small wooden cabin but
continued to work for his old master to buy his children out of
slavery, something he knew he wasn’t likely to achieve in his
lifetime. He was already awake and beginning what was always a very
long day when I reached his home and drew him outside with my
mind.

I stood waiting for him beneath a
cluster of dogwood trees. Forever reluctant to expose myself fully
to humans, I felt naked in the bright glow of the morning sun. He
approached me with the slow, determined gait of those of advanced
years. His expression was slightly dazed, but the fierce
intelligence of a much younger mind shone in his eyes as he gazed
at me.

I was about to issue a series of
commands, telling him exactly what I wished him to do. But then I
paused. That is not what the reverend would have done. So I spoke
aloud, hesitantly.

“
I need your
help.”

His brow furrowed. “What is
you?”

“
Will you help me?” I said
again, desperation creeping into my voice.

To my relief he nodded, simply
responding to the word “help.”

“
I need clothes. A suit of
your old master’s that will not be missed. You will need to alter
it to fit me. I need this to be done before the sun goes
down.”

He nodded again, his gaze already
travelling over me with the critical eye of the tailor as he
planned for the task I had given him. Then it occurred to me that I
should offer him payment. But I had no money and had never had any
need of it before now, something that would have to change now I
had Luna to care for.

“
I will pay you by getting
your old master to reduce the price he has asked for your
children.”

A sardonic smile lifted his lips
slightly.

“
He will honour whatever
promise he makes this time.”

He merely nodded, already thinking
ahead to his work. He took out a measuring tape and began taking my
measurements. When he was done, he nodded a goodbye and wandered
back to his home. I had only one other stop to make, to collect the
things I would need which I hoped would convince Luna to remain at
the mansion. I found them in one of the homes in town and took the
opportunity to steal some money, for I would need to have more
clothes made and I intended to pay the old Negro the next time I
used his services.

I went to ground not far from the
mansion, finding it difficult to sleep, my thoughts of Luna, her
face a dazzling mystery that would forever dominate my
thoughts.

***

I returned to the old Negro at dusk
and waited near the dogwood trees. When he saw me, he gestured for
me to follow him and then turned and walked away without a backward
glance. I followed him behind his home and was surprised to see a
tub filled with water behind the house and a small table with
towels, scissors, and other items. He had made up a small fire on
which stood a bucket of water. He moved behind me and began to take
off my jacket, gesturing for me to remove my tattered
trousers.

I was so taken aback by the lengths he
had gone to, that for a moment I could only look on, overcome by a
multitude of emotions I could not name. When he gestured to me
again, impatiently, I removed the rest of my clothing.

He bathed me as he had done for his
master for many years, bathed me as he would a gentleman. I had
already washed the blood and soil off my body, but I submitted to
the ritual of the bath. It was a queer meeting of the old and the
new as he performed the same task my manservant used to perform in
the ease and comfort of my old life in London, here in the twilight
air on the outskirts of Louisiana whilst the crickets hummed and
night slowly crept into view all around us. He also washed and cut
my hair, which was to my waist by then, leaving it grazing my
shoulders.

The bath had a queer effect on me,
giving me a sense of hope for the future. I would never be the man
I once was, but perhaps the old and the new could meet together as
they did this night beneath the trees. He helped me dress in black
trousers, a navy blue coat over a white shirt, a tan waistcoat, and
white cravat (he would not let me dress on my own). Then he
produced a large, cracked mirror and held it out for me, moving
from one side to another in order for me to see myself from all
angles.

I was stunned by the transformation. I
had not looked at my reflection in years and I was shocked that I
looked like a man, a handsome man, although some sorrow, some
unfathomable suffering, could be seen in my eyes. He was looking
expectantly at me, still holding the mirror as if to ask if it was
enough. I nodded and, satisfied, he placed the mirror to one side.
There was only one thing I had forgotten to ask him for. Shoes. But
he had thought of that and produced a pair of scuffed black shoes
which he placed on my feet. He rose and looked me up and down,
nodding in satisfaction.

“
Thank you,” I said after
a few moments. “I have kept my promise. He will inform you of his
decision to reduce the price of your children tomorrow. So they are
free.”

He nodded, his features impassive,
still not really believing my words. He handed a package of my old
clothes to me along with another suit. Sitting on top of the parcel
was the gold chain that had been given to me long ago to protect
me. I placed it over my neck, tucking it under my clothes. It was
another sign that God had not truly forsaken me.

I left him and made my way back to the
mansion. I entered, materialising in one of the smaller bedrooms
where I deposited the parcel he had given me. Armed with a white
box, my heart leaping in anticipation of seeing her again, I was
about to materialise in the drawing room where she was waiting,
when I hesitated.

Would the reverend have appeared out
of thin air in someone’s presence? No. I entered the ether and was
standing in the night air in the field of flowers outside the
crumbling mansion. I moved toward the front door and opened it,
moving down the corridor to the drawing room. I was already much
later than I had told her I would be, but I was sure that, thanks
to the old Negro, my appearance would not terrify her as much as it
had done thus far.

So it was somewhat of a
surprise, and concern, when I walked into the drawing room and saw
Luna dressed in an old, large green dress, shaking with fear, her
beautiful dark eyes wide with a terror that was far more potent
than my presence had ever induced in her. Her mind was swollen with
it, along with a multitude of images and thoughts that suffused my
mind the moment I entered the room. She stared at me and the two
words I could make out amidst the deluge were
white
and
man
.