Bride of the Night
CHAPTER ELEVEN

WAITING FOR PETE AND FINN to return seemed to take an eternity. The entire fort was edgy and on guard.
Captain Calloway seemed willing to accept what advice Tara had to give him, and everyone remained together in a group. One person could turn another, but in a group, someone would certainly notice such a thing, and therefore all were called to muster-and the living and the dead were all accounted for.
Calloway didn't argue the removal of the heads. The killed would be decapitated and thrown into the sea.
While men were busy at their tasks, they heard the town's church bells begin to peal.
The sound made a horrible force in Tara's heart. She was afraid when she heard them, even when she knew they were only a warning.
Richard stood with her in the parade ground, listening.
"Sounds like a death knell."
Captain Tremblay walked up to stand by them. "Or a dinner bell..." he said quietly.
She shook her head. "Finn is calling them to the church. It's the safest place."
"The fort would be the safest place, wouldn't it?" Tremblay asked.
"I don't think so," Tara said. She looked at Tremblay. He was watching the walls of the fort, but he knew, because he had seen with his own eyes, that evil could slip behind the high walls with little effort. "Besides, there might not have been enough time."
"What's that?" Richard asked and pointed up.
Looking up, they could see a formation in the sky.
"Birds? In such a flock? At night?" Tremblay asked speculatively.
Tara shook her head. She looked at Richard. "I have to go."
"Are you insane?"
"No...I'm the only one who can really help."
"Finn knows what he's doing. You said so yourself," he argued.
Tara was surprised when she felt Tremblay's hand on her shoulder. "She may be right."
"She's not," Richard argued. "Tara-"
A strange screeching filled the sky.
Tara walked a few steps from them. She clenched her hands into fists at her sides and gnawed hard on her lower lip.
"He's going to need help," she said.
"I can arrange for some men-" Tremblay began.
"No, keep the men here together. We have to hope that whatever monster came among us tonight is now busy with the hordes beyond the walls. I have to go alone."
"And you're going to just walk out, past Captain Calloway?" Tremblay asked.
"No," she admitted, looking at Richard.
"Don't ask her, and you'll be happier," Richard said. He caught her by the shoulders. "You're not invulnerable," he reminded her. "You are...who you are, but you've never been in a real battle before...before the island."
"I'll be careful, Richard, I swear."
He hugged her to him. She felt him trembling. "I'd stop you if I could," he told her.
"I know. I'm glad you can't."
Tremblay interrupted. "We shall hold down this fort, young lady. See what you can do for the people now." He wrinkled his face in a grimace. "I've been spit at a time or two around here, but that's no reason to make the citizens face this!"
She smiled, gave him a kiss on the cheek and slipped away.
She might still be learning about battle, but as a child she had learned to test her abilities. Sometimes, of course, this had infuriated her mother, but she still had to know what her unique talents were.
Eyeing the fortress, she decided on the far wall, where the shadows were deepest to escape undetected.
Certain that no one had seen her scale the wall, she began to run, and she let the breeze carry her along. She could still hear the church bells peeling.
And she could still hear the horrible sound of the screeching on the air.
And the screams that naturally seemed to follow that sound.
A STRANGE HUSH QUELLED the noises of the night as Finn stepped outside the church. The creatures, possibly longing to play with their prey, had gone silent. A little distance off, they stood together like a massive, wing-shaped shadow, blocking the way into the church.
Finn stood still, watching.
He saw the man who must be Jasper Hawkins looking into the eyes of the creature before him. Hawkins had his arms around his two children, a little boy of about nine and a girl not much more than six, and he held them protectively against his body. His wife clung to his shoulder, her eyes enormous. Jasper had gotten his breeches on and had thrown on an open shirt; his wife and daughter were still in bleached cotton nightdresses. They all seemed to glow white beneath the moon.
Finn viewed the horde of vampires that had taken sight on the people of Key West that night like a pack of wolves. The one facing Jasper Hawkins was a young man dressed in a fine waistcoat and jacket. One, of which Finn could only think of as a lady of the night, had her skirt hiked up and her bodice stretched low and tight over ample breasts. She was licking her lips. The two were surrounded by four others-an old woman, and three who looked like old salts. Two were in Union uniforms, while the other wore the insignia of a Confederate artillery officer.
Where had they come from? Finn wondered. There was always a leader in such a group, and he was certain that the leader wasn't among them. To have amassed this group of people, care had been taken, the leader keeping them under control. This night, he thought, was part of that control. Whatever monster was pulling the puppet strings wanted to fulfill an agenda, not just create mayhem and murder in the dark.
Finn felt himself move forward like the darkness itself, placing himself between the Hawkins family and the young dandy.
He heard Hawkins gasp and his wife choke back a scream. Finn so startled the dandy vampire creature that he took a step back, but then paused, grinning. "Ah, the feast grows more delectable!" he murmured. "My friends, shall we dine?"
One of the oldest war tactics: take down the head of the beast first. Finn swiftly raised his sword and swiped cleanly. The dandy's head crashed against the roots of an old sea grape. The body stood a moment and crashed to the ground.
Hawkins's wife didn't try to choke back her scream.
Even through that horrible sound, Finn detected the guttural chattering that could begin among a horde of vampires, the newly created especially, and he knew they'd pounce immediately.
They tried to move on him en masse. He spun with the sword, using a hard backward push to cast the old woman out of his way as he pierced the throat of one of the Union officers. He had to wrench at his sword to get it back from the man's collarbone, costing him precious seconds. The Confederate reached for Hawkins's young wife, and Finn found himself forced to allow his sword to fall while he used his fists to ward off the Confederate.
"Get to the church!" he warned the family. "Get to the church."
Hawkins gave his wife a shove. "Run!" He swept up his daughter, prodding his son.
Finn wanted to stay with the family; one of the things could easily slip away and rip into the fleeing group while he was hard-pressed with the remaining monsters. But even as he feared trying to divide his attention, he felt a presence at his back.
Tara.
"Finn, the family...I'm good here. Go!"
On the one hand, he'd told her to remain at the fort.
On the other hand, he was grateful as all hell that she had come.
Finn reached down for his sword and tore after the turned soldiers, now nearly upon the family. He caught up with the Union officer first, bringing him down with a double-handed swing of his weapon. He caught the Confederate soldier just as the thing's fingers grasped into the little girl's dress. He ripped through the man, wrested his sword free and struck again.
Then he dared to turn.
Tara was holding her own just fine. The old woman had risen; her jaw was so wide open it appeared dislocated as she made snapping advances in Tara's direction. But Tara stood tough, and as the old woman approached, she swung, and the woman died so swiftly she might have met the blade of a guillotine.
Finn rushed back to Tara's side as the Hawkins family raced into the church. Dispatching the last two monsters there, they swung around and headed for the church themselves.
Finn barely had time to see it coming-another sweep of shadows, blocking them just when they would have reached the doorway to the church. The one was an enormous Negro man, and the other, a mammoth fellow who would have excellently graced any painting of the Viking days.
Finn nodded to Tara, and they split apart.
This new round of the enemy had not come unarmed; as Finn raised his sword, the Viking came at him with a cavalry saber. The giant black man with rippling muscles took a step toward Tara. His weapon was a massive machete.
For a moment, Finn's heart sank. The weapon was heavy, and she was so small.
But when the Viking swung, Finn lifted his sword to parry the blow, and for some seconds they were locked together, neither giving ground. Finn willed his strength to the fore and shoved hard against the bigger man. When the creature fell back and swung again, Finn leaped to the side, the blow went through the air, further sending him off balance. Finn responded with a sharp blow to the jaw. His head was not dislodged, but he did stagger, trying to right himself. Finn jumped onto the porch and from there onto the man's back, wielding his knife and killing him from behind. The head fell.
Finn crashed to the ground with the body but rolled clear quickly and rose.
Tara was being forced back against a banyan. Using the tree to her benefit, she slid to the right when the monster's massive weapon came down. The blade struck into the tree. As the giant tried to wedge it free, Tara swung with both hands, slicing through half his neck. Finn rushed forward, finished the job, grabbed her by the arm and went racing into the church.
Father Timothy was at the door; he opened it and dragged them both in, and then slammed it in their wake.
Shaking, Finn looked at Tara. "I told you to stay at the fort!"
"You're lucky I did not!"
"You could have been killed!"
"And you could have been killed!" she countered. "Excuse me, we may well have been killed if she didn't come," Jasper Hawkins said, looking from one of them to the other. He recognized Tara and spoke to her. "Tara? Tara Fox?"
"Yes, Jasper," she said quietly.
He stared at her speculatively, but his wife rushed forward, hugging her. "Tara, oh, dear girl, I don't know where you got the strength, but thank you!" She turned to Finn. "I don't know you, sir, but I thank you, as well!"
"Are they coming again?" Father Timothy interrupted, looking at Finn. "How do you know so much about them?" Mrs. Hawkins asked.
"I've seen them in other war zones," Finn said. "Most recently we encountered them up northeastward on another island."
"But we are on islands-we should be safe here," a woman said softly.
Father Timothy cleared his throat. "How do we combat them-if there are more?"
Finn took a deep breath and looked around. Tara was staring at him, a rueful little twisted smile on her face; she was glad he was the one getting the questions.
He cleared his throat. "It's like a disease."
"Oh, my God!" the mayor's wife cried softly. "Do you mean...if they touch us, we turn into that and then...die, or have to have our heads chopped off, or-"
Her voice was starting to rise hysterically, so Finn cut her off quickly. "No, no, you can survive a scratch or a...bite. But you have to watch for the infection. Our captain and another of our men were wounded, but survived. Above all, you have to do everything possible to keep the wounded alive. If there's a fever, cool it down. If there's an open wound, keep it clean. Use rum, use anything that you have. The disease takes hold when the person appears to have died."
There was a clamor of fear in the church. Finn raised a hand. "You can learn to defend and protect yourselves. Ladies, too." He looked at Father Timothy. "Sir, we need holy water. Lots of it. And we need whatever vials you can find, any vessels will do. This will slow them down. Swords remove the head, but you can also kill the creatures with stakes. We can start to make stakes out of the pews. Remember to aim for the heart with them. Destroying the heart means destroying the creature."
"Stakes," someone said.
"Are these creatures like...bloodsucking vampires? Something out of old legend?" Hawkins asked, staring at Finn with disbelief.
Finn answered carefully. "All legend has a core of truth to it. The legends surely came from this horrible disease, and yes, once the creatures come back, they thrive on blood."
"Demons! Demons from hell!" Mrs. Hawkins shouted.
Finn looked at her, still cautious in his speech. "Evil things do come from hell."
"You're saying that holy water can kill them," Father Timothy pointed out.
"Holy water will hold them back-if you get them in the face, you can blind them. They know this and will fear it, if they are true evil ones. However, there have been cases where those who come back are not evil, and can withstand the hunger for death and blood, and then the church and the holy water do no ill."
He didn't know what effect he was having on the people. He wanted to scare them, but not to immediately attack Tara should they find out about her, or him. "But, sadly, most often, when created by an evil puppet master, as you have suggested," Finn said, looking at Seminole Pete, "they will never have had the opportunity to learn goodness. You can't risk mercy when there is a wolf-pack-hunting single-mindedness among a group. I know that all of you long to see your loved ones come back. But...you must defend yourselves. Take grave care. Watch for a tinge of red in or around the eyes, and don't be taken in by the longing we all have to see our dead loved ones alive and in our arms again."
There was silence for a minute. Everyone was contemplating what he'd said, and listening for the sound of wings.
"Will they come by day?" Father Timothy asked.
"By day, those who are new to come back are usually extremely weak, and the daylight hurts them. They come by night," Finn said.
Father Timothy said, "Men! Fashion stakes of the pews. I will bless more water. Come, we will work as a community tonight. Whether we sympathize with the North or the South, we will remember tonight that we are all God's creatures in this church, and we will work together!"
Father Timothy might have been young, but he seemed to know that he needed to be the one to guide his flock. That meant being God's warrior and, as such, strong this night.
Finn gave the man a nod, and Father Timothy stepped over the befuddled mayor and all authority to assert his own.
Finn walked over to Tara, who was standing with Pete.
She looked concerned. Finn knew that she was worried about these people; this was her home. He noticed many speaking to her, and he had a feeling that even before tonight she was admired and loved by many more of her neighbors than she might have thought.
"There have been more mysterious deaths, some have told me," she said to him. "That means...well, there may be more about to come back to life in the cemetery."
"The graveyard here seems to be in one piece," Finn replied.
Pete stepped in. "There's a cemetery in the middle of the island, on the highest ground. Years ago, a storm swept through, and the bodies buried closer to the south beach area popped out of the ground, and caskets and corpses floated down the main street and rose into the trees. That's where all the interments they're talking about took place."
Finn looked at Tara. "And you want to go to the cemetery."
"I have to, Finn."
He could stop her. He did have the strength, and the authority. He was sure that Captain Tremblay and Richard had wanted to stop her coming here, too.
"Tara-"
"It's nearing dawn, Finn. We can leave Pete here. If the people stay in the church, they will be safe, and Pete and Father Timothy and the mayor will see that they don't leave. Please, we have to stop this. I'll never be able to leave the island if I'm not certain that the people are going to be all right."
"Tara, don't you see? We'll not have a guarantee, no matter what," he said gently.
She shook her head. "They'll fight those they don't know-those they don't see as their loved ones. You know as well as I do how seductive the newly changed can be. Please, Finn, we have to do what we can before their own deceased make it here."
Pete looked at Finn gravely. "She's right-they can recognize an enemy, but they will fall prey to loved ones."
Finn groaned softly and started to walk away.
"Finn!" she cried.
He turned back. "Yes, yes, we're going. I'm going to tell Father Timothy our suicidal plan."
FINN WHISTLED WHEN they left the church.
Tara looked at him curiously.
He paused in the churchyard, looking around. "I'm forgetting my borrowed horse is not Piebald," he told her, with a wry grin.
"The horses ran. They're smarter than humans," she said.
"So we walk."
"I know the way," she assured him.
They started inland, moving swiftly. As they did so, they watched the sky, but no shadows fell around them. There was no beat of wings in the air.
She wanted to speak to him, to reach out in some way. But theirs was an awkward relationship, so fraught with instinctive desire, and torn apart by circumstances. They were enemies, and they were allies.
"Thank you," she told him.
He smiled tightly at her side. "For? Destroying Richard's ship and taking you both captive?"
"For knowing when your enemy isn't your enemy. And for tonight, for the people of my island."
He nodded. "No one wants the death of anyone. Yes, the armies will continue to rip each other apart, and God knows how many more men will die. But...we can stop some of this bloodshed, if nothing else."
She nodded, lowering her head. "I was afraid, at first, that you would turn me down, thinking it best that I remained here, and plagued you no more about President Lincoln. But I had forgotten, of course, that I'm your prisoner."
He was silent, which puzzled her.
"You did come to find Gator," she reminded him.
He hesitated, and she pulled back, catching his hand. "What?" she asked him.
He watched the sky, and listened, not ready for an instant to neglect the danger of their situation. Then he looked at her.
"I'm wondering..." he started, with an impenetrable look on his face. "I can't help but think that this...attack came after we captured you and Richard on the island."
She stiffened. "I assure you, I was no part of any of this, and Richard is-Richard is a man. A good man, but just a man."
"I'm not accusing you again," he said quietly.
"Then?"
"What if we should have headed straight north? What if, by coming here, we actually put these people in danger?" he asked.
"I don't know what you mean. What would have happened tonight if we hadn't been here? We couldn't have caused what happened-we weren't here for the strange deaths over the past few days."
"I'm wondering if it wasn't all part of a plan...?."
She remained puzzled. "But...whose plan?"
He took a deep breath, studying the sky once again. "Finn, please?"
He looked at her, and despite the fact that they needed to be so very wary of everything around them, she couldn't help but feel a tremor of warmth, and realize again just how much she admired him, and cared for him. His eyes, with their unusual cast of crimson, were so striking amid his dark features. He stood so tall and strong against all odds, and his actions were as powerful as his appearance and his abilities. She thought that he was truly a man of honor, and she was grateful that he had come to believe in her, and in Richard and Pete and others because of her.
"There may well be a traitor among our ranks," he said.
"You mean..."
"Yes, I mean someone within the Union ranks who is, in truth, a Southern sympathizer, and as a sympathizer, mistakenly believes that President Lincoln should be killed. God knows, our beliefs and our loyalties can twist our thinking. Those who supposedly love and fear God the most are prone to kill in His name, when surely God looks down in horror."
"Who?" she asked.
"Duck!" he told her suddenly.
She felt a whir pass her by, and she turned, and she saw that while he had been ever vigilant, she herself had failed at the task. She had nearly been knocked over by the arrival of a shadow, someone moving swiftly in the night. Someone now standing just ten feet away, on the path that would lead them into the cemetery.
A child.
She felt her heart lurch. It was a little girl with long golden hair and huge blue eyes. She carried a large stuffed doll, and as she looked at them, she stuck her thumb in her mouth.
Then she smiled, and said with a pout, "I want to play."
Tara looked at Finn.
"She's a sweet innocent girl no more!" he warned her.
"But-"
The little girl suddenly started to laugh. She dropped her thumb and her doll and looked at Tara with her eyes bright. "I'm hungry! So hungry!"
Lifting off the ground with the breeze, the small form moved to stand directly in front of Tara. Tara was still stunned, struck by the age of the little girl.
"Hungry!"
She grabbed Tara's skirt.
Finn ripped the child away, throwing her on the ground and pinioned her with his sword. The child began to thrash and spasm, her teeth gnashing as she stared at them, her mouth opening, fangs elongating.
"Finn, please, swiftly!" Tara pleaded.
He obliged her, withdrawing the sword, and-Tara looked away-quickly severing the neck.
Finn gripped her by the shoulders. "You can't fall prey to appearances! You must be strong!" he told her.
She nodded, but still, it was impossible to believe that a child could become such a monster.
"Let's hurry," he said.
They walked swiftly to the gates. The moon was falling, and in the next minutes daylight would come.
They entered through the wrought-iron gates and were greeted by whitewashed aboveground crypts, in-ground burials, weeping angels and downcast cherubs. A large brick tomb sat among those that were white and opalescent in the waving moonlight. All seemed to be quiet.
"Perhaps we were all wrong," Tara whispered.
"It's a big cemetery," Finn commented grimly. "So many vaults..."
They started walking along the main pathway. Wild-flowers and weeds grew among the graves, even in winter. Lone trees stood here and there, casting great shadows in the strange light that meant the coming end of darkness, the dawning of day.
"There," Tara murmured.
"Where?"
"The large oak over there...I thought I saw something."
"Let's go."
As he spoke, Finn almost stumbled. Tara caught his arm, but he had righted himself.
"What is it?" she asked.
"An open grave."
He hunkered down, and she lowered herself beside him. She could see that the earth had spewed out, as if from some inward eruption. At closer inspection, they could see that the coffin within had been shattered, as well.
A plain wooden marker stood at the head of the grave, reading: "Lieutenant Abraham Winters, First Florida Volunteers. While the enemy could not make his great heart shatter, so did the coming of fever. God's will. May he rest in peace."
Finn rose, looking around. Tara held still, biting her lower lip.
"Tara?"
"I knew him," she said softly. "I played with him...here, as a child."
"Tara, he is no longer the man you knew."
Finn caught her hand and dragged her to her feet. He whispered close to her ear. "There are more...?. The shadow you saw...it's there again, but if you'll look, there is more than one. You must be ready. You mustn't hesitate."
She nodded.
He kept her hand. He drew her along with him, and she didn't understand where he was leading her until she realized he'd gone to one of the aboveground vaults where the coffins were in rows, one atop the other. The seals around the graves were tight.
He'd chosen a place where they could have their backs to the solid wall created by the graves.
He had barely gotten them there before the first shriek came.
She looked. The great shadow by the tree was moving; several of the newly changed advanced toward them. A young girl of perhaps seventeen, an older man and another young man. Then she saw Abe Winters, a handsome young man in his militia outfit; he'd been buried with his sword, but kept it sheathed, as of yet. None of the others was armed.
The newly dead seldom knew that they should be.
"Tara! Why, Tara Fox, it's so good to see you," Abe began. "The war was hard and long...?. I was injured and they sent me home to heal. It's so good to see you, so very good. I was homesick...and I'm home, and you're here!"
He looked at her as he always had. His hat rode jaunty over his brow and his thick honey-colored waves of hair. His smile was the smile he had always had. She couldn't help it; she found herself listening to the tone of his voice.
"Tara, no!"
Finn stepped forward just as Abe Winters led the group toward them. Abe saw the danger as Finn produced his sword, but too late. Her old friend went down. The others hesitated, pausing again to stare.
Then the young woman let forth a guttural, chattering sound of fury and sprang. Tara fell back against the wall of sarcophagi and raised her own sword quickly. She caught the girl in the throat and, though sickened, managed to draw back and strike again. It wasn't a clean sweep. The woman fell down, choking and screaming, and the sound was terrible, but Tara gritted her teeth and swung and swung again.
Again a moment of stillness as the others stared, processing what had happened. They turned to run.
"We can't let them go, Tara, come on!"
Finn gave chase. It was horrible as he caught the old man from the rear, but his strike was swift and sure, and the thing went down.
Tara ran behind to follow. But there was nothing for her to do. Finn had swiftly caught up with the others, and hastily finished them off.
She stood in the cemetery, shaking. He came back to her, taking her by the shoulders, and pulling her against him. "It's all right. You were fine, and you'll be fine. And you were right-the people would have fallen to their own loved ones if these undead had reached the church. We all want miracles. We all want those we've lost to come back from the dead."
"Not like that!" she whispered.
"Not like that."
As he spoke, the moon disappeared. The cemetery suddenly was lightened by streaks of mauve and crimson. The first hint of the sun was sending tendrils up into the eastern sky.
"We can go back," he said. "We can let the people go home for the day."
"And then?"
"And then, we'll bide another night. But, if I'm right, all will be calm."
"Calm," she repeated, searching out his eyes.
"Because I believe that the evil will be waiting now. Waiting to set sail with us."