Bloodcircle P. N. Elrod

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one of them. She was pleasant company, and careful never to go too far,
but she was really using people in her own way. As an outsider to their
family with some larger experience, I could see how she worked all
things around her to her favoroh, but she was ever so nice about it.
"Maureen did everything she could for her, but it was never enough.
Gaylen enjoyed playing the sweet suffering martyr and craved the
attention it got her. In later years, Gaylen practically clung to
Maureen, 'as if increase of appetite had grown by what it fed on,' if I
may borrow from the bard. When Maureen had her accident, it was too much
for Gaylen; she completely fell apart."
"The accident that killed her?"
"Yes. She told you about the fire wagon? I'm surprised; she hated
talking about it, even thinking about it made her feel sick."
Having suffered a violent death myself, I could understand.
"For me it was a miracle. I hadn't lost her to death. She'd come back to
me, beautiful as ever, and young again. I helped her through her first
nights, easing things when I could, but after a time she found she
couldn't let go. She wanted to go back, to comfort Gaylen and to let her
know she was really all right."
His expression had turned inward again; he was half-sad, half-angry. "It
was a mistake and a very bad one, but she couldn't see it at first. She
talked me into helping--pleaded, really--it was that important to her.
So I helped. It was all right for a time, but when the happy shock of
the reunion wore off and the implications sank in, Gaylen started to
work on us both. She was slow and subtle about it, but she wanted to be
like us. She said there was every chance of the change working in her
since they were sisters."
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"She couldn't talk either of you into it, though."
"It wasn't for want of trying, and finally she tried too hard. That was
her mistake; that's when Maureen realized how sick her sister was in her
mind. Things got very ugly, very fast after that scene, and she had to
put Gaylen away in Kingsburg, which all but broke Maureen's heart.
Gaylen was the cause of the rift between us; thereafter Maureen and I
went on separate paths."
"But you kept in touch?"
"Out of mutual self-interest and because of what we'd become. Those of
our kind are despairingly rare." His glance rested on me a moment and I
couldn't read his expression.
"What self-interest?"
"Gaylen was full of mischief and I had little confidence in the security
of that so-called asylum. Bedlam may have been noisy, brutal, and stunk
to high heaven, but they knew how to keep a door locked. We each had to
know where the other lived in case something happened--which it did when
she escaped."
"Who paid for the asylum?"
"Maureen. She and Gaylen inherited enough from their parents to live in
quiet comfort for the rest of their lives. When Maureen understood how
things might be for her future with me, she made out a rather clever
will that gave over her share of the estate to a nonexistent cousin. If
the cousin did not appear within a year of her demise, then her share
would go to Gaylen. It was easy enough to establish another identity in
those days, and my background in law was proving to be quite handy for
once. Maureen prepared for her change--if it happened, and so it did."
"It surprised you?"
"I was truthful with her. I told her there was no guarantee she would
rise again; it was only a chance and we took it."
Escott stirred in his chair. "And the others?"
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"What do you mean, sir?"
"Since your decease you must have been involved with women other than
Maureen."
Barrett was amused. "Of course I was. I'd changed, but not into a damned
monk."
"Did any of them return after they died?"
He didn't answer, but Escott continued to wait for one. "No, none of
them," he said with a flare of anger. "Not one of them. D'ye want to
know how many there were and all that we did together?"
Escott ignored the question. "What about the lady you knew in England?
What was her story?"
"I was her lover, not her bloody biographer."
Escott was patient, which irritated Barrett.
"Her name was Nora Jones and she made her living by accepting such gifts
as we lads could afford to give her, but mind you, she was no
whore--don't ever think that. She was a lovely girl, truly lovely and
lovable. Not all the students were poor, and I was doubly blessed with a
bit of paternal lucre and good looks, both of which she took to like
butter to warm bread."
"Did she not warn you of the possible consequences of her relationship
with you?"
"No, she did not. It was her way; she liked 'em young and fairly
innocent, and was pleased to keep 'em so. I've also come to think that
she honestly did not know there would even be consequences."
"Your resurrection must have been quite traumatic for you."
His face grew hard at the memory. "It was, and I'd rather not speak of
it."
"Then we shall return to the near-present: tell us about the night
Maureen came here to you."
"There's little enough to tell. I'd obtained a position here some months
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earlier as Miss Francher's secretary. As you're already aware by now,
she knows all about me, but however odd the hours might be, I am very
good at my job."
"And it's safe here," I added.
He considered the remark. "Yes, as safe as one can be from life. We had
our share of ill fortune that year. Miss Francher's mother died horribly
in a fire that spring and I had my hands full for a time, helping her
get through the worst of it and protecting her privacy. If not for young
Laura it would have been impossible. She was only fourteen then, but a
splendid child; the experience matured and strengthened her even as it
seemed to drain her older cousin. She'd been visiting us on her spring
holiday that week and then stayed on. I arranged for a private tutor so
she could finish out the year at home with us."
"What about Laura's family?"
"Her parents died ten years ago. Miss Francher's mother was her legal
guardian. When she died, Miss Francher assumed the responsibility. It
was easy enough, for Laura is a good girl. Things were just starting to
settle down at the close of summer when Maureen showed up at the gate
asking for me. She was in quite a state about Gaylen and hardly able to
think straight. I'd said that things had gotten very ugly between them,
she was afraid of what her sister might do to her. She wanted help and [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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