"Of course," I said. "You are my father, and I shall restore you. And next time, you will be better behaved."
I had no intention of doing any such thing, and I briefly considered tormenting him with that knowledge, but better safe than sorry, I decided. If he thought he would be revived, he would be content to lie there and bleed. If he knew I would never return him from death, he might find a hidden pool of strength. My father ought not to be underestimated.And so, in the service of my survival, and so Lady Caroline"s survival, and indeed Mrs. Tyler"s survival, I swallowed my love of revenge. I like to think this demonstrates my moral growth.
Once the old monster was properly dead, I took Lady Caroline"s body, which was uncomfortably stiff, in my arms and carried her to another room. This was an awkward procedure, for a dead body is a heavy thing, and there may have been some unmanly dragging at certain points. She did not appear to mind. Once I had her in a guest room, away from the sight of my father"s corpse, I commenced once more to break the shackles of mortality, as only I know how, and used my remarkable skills to restore breath once more to those sweet lips.
In a moment, her eyes fluttered and she shot up from her bed. She looked at me, and she gasped, putting a hand to her now-milky throat in the memory of what that beast had done to her. And then, to my surprise, she flung her arms around me.
"You came back for me, Reginald!" she cried. "I knew you would!"
The warmth of her body against mine, the wet of her tears against my neck-how can I describe the joy of this moment? I held her close and told her I would always save her, always take any risk for her. I told her I loved her, and even death could not keep us apart.
"I am sorry I doubted you," she said to me, still crying against my neck. "I know now you love me."
I studied her. "Do you feel any different, Lady Caroline? More . . . evil, perhaps?"
She c.o.c.ked her head as she considered the question. "I don"t believe so . . ."
That was good enough for me. "I have seen to everything," I said. "Sir Albert is no more. He shall never trouble you again."
She pulled away from me and looked at me, her moist eyes locking with my own. "You killed him?"
"You needn"t concern yourself with the details," I told her. "When I met you, he was dead.The dead should remain dead."
"Excepting me?" she asked.
"Excepting you," I answered. "And me. I shall leave you the book in my will, and you shall do the same for me, and we may be immortal and together."
She wrapped her arms around me again. I was not quite certain that I wished to be with her for all eternity. I loved her absolutely, but can a man ever love a woman that much? I supposed I would find out, and it was clearly what she wished to hear, so the plan would do for now.
I then excused myself, explaining to her that there was a bit of cleaning up to do, and that she might not wish to see what damage that necessity had wrought in her house. She told me she was content to remain closeted until I told her otherwise. Lady Caroline closed the door behind me, so she would not have to listen to the sound of me disposing of the bodies.
My man James was yet in my employ, and he proved useful in helping me to collect bodies, parts of bodies, and other detritus. I could think of no better place to deposit them all than in the Fleet Ditch itself. How fitting that so foul a pit should be the final resting place of the worst man I had ever known, along with one more who had proved surprisingly good compet.i.tion for that t.i.tle.
Since he had arrived on the scene and then disappeared so suddenly, Sir Albert"s return from the dead proved to be a shortlived sensation. Most people presumed he had wandered back to his grave, or what had appeared to be a corporeal Sir Albert had merely been a spirit.Those who had not seen him with their own eyes might have guessed that the entire story was a hoax. All of these theories were well with me, for Lady Caroline was never legally declared unwidowed and her property remained her own.
I should say that it continued to remain her own after we wed, for she arranged that her wealth should be held as separate property, but since I now had money of my own, I was in no way distressed.We wanted one another, not one another"s silver, and that is a much better foundation for a happy marriage. We did choose to vacate London, however, for it was uncomfortable encountering, upon a regular basis, those people from whom I had, by means of necromantic extortion, obtained my wealth. No matter. As it turned out, neither Lady Caroline nor I was particularly attached to London society. We removed ourselves to the north, from whence Lady Caroline"s family originated, and bought a beautiful house in York, in the shadow of the minster. It has proved to be a happy home for us.
As for the book, and its powers, I have set these aside. I want nothing more to do with them and I have vowed never again to use them unless financial distress or some other inclination should convince me otherwise. It is but a surety of my happiness with Lady Caroline, there to bring her back should some tragedy befall her, a.s.suming we are still, at the time, living in a state of felicity.
Perhaps it was so that Lady Caroline was a bit darker after her resurrection. Perhaps it was this darkness that allowed her to forgive me my crimes and to marry a man who had blackmailed her friends and taken such liberties with the lives of others. I could not say. I do feel that a little bit of darkness might have made her even more compatible with me, and nothing that resulted from her death and revival harmed our love.As to whether or not it strengthened it, I shall leave that to better minds than mine.
As one last note, I should mention that business takes me, from time to time, to London to meet with bankers or lawyers or suchlike people, and while I am there, I always make it a habit to pay a visit to St. Bartholomew"s Hospital. It is a wretched place, mostly full of the housed dying, but there are a few longer-term patients, paid for out of donations.There lies such a terrible case, a man who lacks feet and so cannot walk. He lacks hands, and so cannot write. He lacks a tongue, and so cannot speak. Some unknown benefactor pays for his upkeep, and I must say, I find it a touching experience to visit this unfortunate, whose eyes are wide and expressive, as if he has something to say to me. What could it be? No one knows. Perhaps he wishes to express grat.i.tude to those who care for him. Perhaps he wishes to say that it was a mistake to cross a man so disposed to feed his inclination for vengeance. Perhaps he wishes to plea for death. I can offer no informed guess as to what this poor fellow wishes to communicate. I suppose it is a secret he will take with him to his grave.
Alive Day
Jonathan Maberry Author"s Note
This story features Captain Joe Ledger, the lead character from my series of science/action thrillers. It is not necessary to have read any of Ledger"s previous adventures in order to read this story.
1.
rAttlesnAke teAm
Ten Days Ago . . . He lay there, crushed inside a fist of darkness.
Unable to move.
Barely able to breathe.
"I"m sorry," he tried to say."G.o.d . . . I"m so sorry."
There was no answer from the darkness.
The Afghan desert that surrounded this abandoned town had been so hot
bef ore . . .
Now it was cold.
So cold.
Sergeant Michael O"Leary-combat call sign "Finn"-tried to move his legs, but they were dead and distant things. He could barely feel them. His toes were cold, though. Icy. He could feel that much.