Bride of the Night
CHAPTER TWELVE

WITH THE SUN RISING and a brilliant day on the horizon, Pete returned to the fort to report on the night's events. Neither Finn nor Tara went back with him.
The Hawkins family had made a bed of coats and blankets, so they were able to catch a few hours of sleep. During the day, the people returned to their homes, all to gather food and clothing for the following night they would spend in the church.
Tara had known it was inevitable that she'd dream of Lincoln again. She was standing in the center of the mall in Washington, D.C., watching as masons worked on one of the new buildings for the Smithsonian. While she stood there she saw the scurry of people in the capital-wounded soldiers limping, mothers with children, volunteers bringing amputees out to the mall for some sun and politicians going past in their buggies or carriages. Schoolchildren ran across the grass, waving their bound books at their sides.
She saw a poster on a tree advertising a musical benefit for injured soldiers, and another announcing a play. A young boy in the street was hawking newspapers. Life went on, in spite of war; only the canvas it was played upon seemed different. To the one end of the mall, she could see the Capitol building-at the other end, the White House. Scaffolding rose around the Washington Monument.
She felt a hand on her shoulder, and she turned. President Lincoln was there. "Beautiful day, my dear. Beautiful day."
"It's cold."
"Yes, it's cold. Cold as the grave."
"Where is your escort, sir?"
"Oh, I'm sure there is someone about, watching me. Shall we walk?"
She strolled along at his side.
"Mary had another seance last night. She said that Willie came and spoke to her. I fear that she misses the child so much that it is causing her to become unbalanced. I'm afraid for my poor Mary."
"What about you, sir? Have you attended the seances?"
He nodded. "Not as many as Mary...but I have listened to the mediums, and the soothsayers, and mostly, I have listened to my own heart, and my own mind."
He stopped and looked at her, holding her shoulders. "None of us can bear the weight of losing a loved one. We all want our loved ones back. But what God has taken belongs to God, and none of us may return from the grave."
She shivered again, thinking of the corpses that had risen in the cemetery.
And she felt a deeper tremor.
Lincoln was wrong. Sometimes, things do come back.
She couldn't say that to the president. Not to a man who had lost children-one during his term as the president-and not when he carried the weight of nearly six hundred thousand deaths upon his shoulders.
"Oh, sir! I know what you are up against. I know the enemy we fight, the many enemies we fight. Your child Willie certainly belongs to God now, and I believe that there is a very different day, and different place, where we will see our loved ones as God intended we should all meet again."
He looked at her. "Don't let me come back. When the call comes, let me go and be with him."
"It won't be for a long, long time," she told him.
"I know what I saw in my dream."
He pointed to scaffolding on the "castle," the first building to house the Smithsonian Museum. Others were rising around it now. "This is a museum for the American people. All the American people. And the dream of the Union is something that can never die. It's something that will always change, as it was set forth by the great men who argued, debated, befriended and loathed one another. Even as they wrote the Declaration of Independence, individual men had a say, and they were not all popular, or beloved. Washington spent a winter at Valley Forge, and all hope seemed lost, but somehow they prevailed when all odds were against us. We are destined to grow, and continually be a melting pot, and one day, equality will mean all men, not men of a certain color or nationality. That will live. Rest assured, that will live."
His voice seemed to fade as he spoke. When she turned to face him, he was gone, and there seemed to be dark clouds and black-winged shadows down the mall.
"Tara!"
She woke to the soft-spoken whisper of her name, and saw that Finn was by her.
"You were dreaming again."
"I was with him. We were walking on the mall."
He started to pull away. She grabbed his arm. "Finn, I believe he is in danger."
"I know that he is in danger," Finn said. "He is always in danger."
"He said that he-he doesn't want to come back. He wants to see Willie in heaven."
"In time, let's pray that we all meet in heaven-indeed, that there is a heaven."
She sat up and looked around. The church was empty, except for Father Timothy, who was at the altar praying over water, with a young acolyte by his side.
There was no one to pay them any heed.
"Finn, how did you come to be...what you are?"
"I was born this way, the same as you," he told her.
"But what about others? You said that I have a sister and a brother," she said.
He nodded. "I told you, I know of them. I don't know them."
"And you believe that...they're not evil."
He smiled and assured her, "Not evil at all."
"But our father...what do they know about him? Men often think that women are foolish, that they give their hearts to men who play them falsely. But you didn't know my mother. She would have never loved someone evil."
He hesitated. "There are cases where someone is turned-completely turned-and yet, they have still been saved."
"We...we dispatched children last night, Finn."
"Because, at the point we met them, there was no hope."
"So you can believe that my father isn't evil?"
He brushed his fingers gently against her face. "My father was not evil," he told her. "But when he changed, he was with his father, and they'd been on a hunting expedition into the Dakotas. They were with an elderly Sioux man, Jim Whitefeather. When the attack came, Jim tried to protect and warn them-he had vampire blood in him. My father told me the worst of it was that they recognized one of the turned as a farmer who'd owned the property near his father's, and they weren't under attack because the monsters were hungry, but because the neighbor wanted my father's property. My grandfather was ripped to shreds. My father was killed, or nearly killed-I'll never know the total truth of that now-but Jim Whitefeather knew how to save him and how to guide him. If there's someone there...if a life can be saved, brought back with the blood of another vampire before death, then the person's life can go on as it did before. When death comes, only those who are very lucky-those who have a guide-stand a chance of retaining their sense of humanity. I've seen where a father hesitates, though, when seeing his own child. But unless someone has learned to control the desperate need for blood, that someone will go after sister, brother, wife, lover-child."
Tara put out a hand and touched his face. "You've seen so much that's so horrible."
He caught her hand, holding it against his cheek, and he smiled. "I wasn't alive yet when my father was changed, obviously. I've seen the horrible-we've all seen the horrible. But what you always have to remember is that this disease, as we call it, is no respecter of children, the good or the innocent, once they wake with no one and feel the hunger. It's as if you come out of a deep sleep, and for a few minutes, you remember your loved ones...but then the need is a burning inside, and it blocks out all humanity. When my father came out of the sleep, Jim was there. He had shot a buck, and he was able to feed my father before the hunger took full hold. He talked him down, talked him through it. Jim had seen things before, and he knew what to do."
"But later...he couldn't save your parents?"
"Jim was very old," he told her. "He reckoned that he was about fifty when he had been changed. He could remember the continent before any Spaniard, French, Englishman-any white man. When his last wife died, he went to the hills alone. He told us all goodbye, and to pray for his soul, because he believed that he had one, and that the Buffalo Woman had walked with him all of his life, and he'd meet the Great Father. He felt he'd spent his time on earth, and he went out and willed himself to die. I was young when I accompanied my father into the hills and found Jim. My father saw that all his tribal rites were carried out, and I believe that he did find peace. And I learned from my father, who was able to lead me from the time I was born."
"My father could still be out there-and be decent, wherever he is?" she asked.
Finn looked away for a moment. "I know of your brother and sister, because we have mutual friends in Washington-good friends who know about us, and who know that they need us to combat the outbreaks when they occur."
He stood suddenly; she, too, heard the sound of hoof-beats.
Father Timothy paused in his rite, looking at Finn. Finn waved to him and headed to the main door of the church.
Tara followed Finn.
Captain Tremblay had ridden back with Pete. When they stepped outside, Tara saw that the day was truly striking; the sun rose high, the sky was crystal blue, the air was cool and the breeze that blew in from the ocean was sweet. It had rained sometime before, and it seemed that the world was fresh-bathed, almost as if the sky had known that the land needed to be cleansed from the night before.
Captain Tremblay and Pete dismounted and Tremblay lifted a hand in greeting as Finn walked out to him. "The mayor is coming, with some of the other town councilmen," Tremblay said.
Finn nodded. "Was there any more trouble last night at the fort?"
"It was quiet, but all are now on guard. And that, of course, is what we must discuss with the mayor." Tremblay looked at Tara and hesitated. "Most of the Union forces have gone northwestward. The Cow Cavalry is expected to make advances on Union troops near Fort Myers and in the Tampa Bay area. There will be no reinforcements at the fort now. Every man and woman here-Union and Confederate, military and civilian-must be prepared to defend and fight together. Especially because, if I've understood you correctly, you are still eager to reach the North with all haste."
Finn nodded. "Yes. And I believe that while there may still be pockets of danger here, once we're gone, they will be minor. The intelligence behind these attacks, I feel, will follow us."
"Is there intelligence behind such attacks?" Tremblay asked.
Tara couldn't help but speak up. "Is there intelligence behind any war?" she asked.
Tremblay looked at her, shook his head sadly. "We fought for the Union, young lady. Your side fought for an intangible cause, and in this, I honestly believe that God was on our side."
"States' rights," she said.
"But no one has a right to own another human being," Tremblay said.
"Or to kill off native peoples, assuming them all savages-"
Finn lifted a hand. "We have no control over either for the moment, Tara, Captain. We need to leave these people safe. Let's go in."
Inside the church, Father Timothy was waiting for them. Tara noted that only a few pews remained. There was a large stack of stakes now piled up near the baptismal font, and Father Timothy had gathered old medicinal and alcohol bottles, and they, too, were amassed in rows near the pile of stakes. Many people had left jackets, coats and blankets; they would be returning by nightfall.
"I have prepared as best I can," Father Timothy told them.
"Excellent. Before dusk, have the church bells ring," Captain Tremblay said.
The door opened again. The mayor had arrived with a contingent of councilmen. He paused in front of Captain Tremblay.
Captain Tremblay offered him his hand.
The mayor took it and they shook. "This must never, never go into the records. God knows, we might both be written down as traitors."
"This is just a battle of men. There will be no logs written," Captain Tremblay agreed. "Those people who are not here may not understand, and history might well make fools and renegades of us all." He hesitated, looking over the mayor's head to Finn. "We'll stay tonight. We'll watch well, tamp down any last offenders. Then, tomorrow, I must set sail. We'll pray that both Union troops and Key West's citizens will join together, and combat a common enemy, for once remembering that we are actually brothers, though we may be brothers at odds."
The mayor shook Tremblay's hand again. He stepped back, saluting him. "I will have the citizens armed and ready. We will keep guard here at the church, while you maintain the fort."
"We will be here tonight, as well," Finn assured the mayor, shaking his hand, as well.
The mayor looked past him to Tara. "Miss Fox, our gratitude," he said. He smiled suddenly. "Forgive those of us in this town who were rude to your mother, or ever treated you as anything but our finest citizen. Pete, our gratitude."
Tara nodded. She'd never seen anyone treat her mother with disrespect, but she knew well that many citizens had whispered about her behind her back, and that she had always been looked upon as an oddity.
Tara smiled at the mayor. "I'll be back," she told him. "This is my home."
"It is your home, our home," he said, looking at Pete. "And when you return, we'll all rebuild together."
He left, followed by the councilmen, who all noted how the church was prepared as they departed.
The mayor paused before leaving. "Father Timothy!" he called.
"Sir?"
"We are grateful," the mayor said and left.
Father Timothy looked after him.
"How odd," he said.
"What's odd?" Captain Tremblay asked him.
"It seems after all this time, we do know how to make peace," Father Timothy said. "If you will excuse me, I believe I could do with a few hours' rest."
Smiling, Captain Tremblay left.
"I'm going to see if there's anything here that we didn't notice last night," Finn said.
"I'm coming with you!" Tara told him.
Pete said to Tara, "You take the horse I rode from the fort. I'll be home. Join me when you are hungry." He looked at Finn. "Both of you."
They bid goodbye to Father Timothy together, but out in the churchyard, Finn hesitated.
"There aren't many graves here. They were mostly moved to the Key West cemetery," Tara said.
"Yes, but I want to make sure that nothing has been disturbed. Other than the obvious."
But nothing had been disturbed, and the citizens of Key West had already removed the diseased that had been slain the night before.
"It's all right, isn't it?" Tara asked him.
He nodded slowly. "Yes, it's all right."
"Where should we head first?"
He shrugged. "It's your town."
"And it's beautiful, especially in winter!" she told him, smiling.
"Let's mount up, shall we?" he suggested. They walked around the side of the church, and found the gelding Finn had ridden and the mare that Pete had used when he'd returned with Captain Tremblay. The gelding hadn't broken free and taken flight during the attack the night before. Finn was quiet, thinking that they needed to be grateful that they were prepared, and the fight hadn't been elongated, that none of the diseased had attacked the horse.
Finn patted the mare's long sleek neck as Tara mounted. She was quiet, looking northward.
"We talk about the war coming to an end, but Florida has a militia still fighting, you know. They call them the Cow Cavalry, because they protect the beef used to feed so many of our soldiers. The Union men sailed from here to do battle with them."
Finn looked up at her. "We can't stop the war," he told her.
She nodded. "I know."
Finn mounted as well, and they rode along. She pointed out some of the trees, and the bursts of colors, and she explained how many of the streets had been named for the founders, such as Simonton, and Duval, of course, was for Florida's first civilian territorial governor, William Duval. "Angela and Margaret Streets had been named for his daughters, and that it was like a frontier, and not a frontier, of course, because of all the money that had come in through the salvage business. Eaton, of course, was named for John Eaton, President Jackson's secretary of war, until politics undid him. He was the second territorial governor, but I also believe he owned property down here when they were naming the streets." She paused, looking at him. "And, yes, there are about four hundred slaves here, though with the Union fort having been held so long, and the Emancipation Proclamation, most are now escaped, or free. But even before the war, Finn, there were about one hundred and fifty free African men who lived and worked here, and our whole population is just about two-thousand and two hundred, and you saw so many of the people last night. Our mariners come from everywhere on the East Coast and they're Italian, French, Spanish, from the islands...?."
He laughed as they rode, reaching over with a hand, taking hers. The simple touch seemed to shoot sparks of fire throughout her, and she flushed, remembering now, by the light of day, how sweet it had been to feel his intimate touch. She looked away quickly, not wanting to give away how she longed for a time when they were just together, the two of them, and she wondered if such an event could ever take place again. Assuming they both survived, they would reach Washington, and whether he believed in her or not, there was still Richard's captivity to consider, and the war, and the bitterness.
But Finn was unaware of her thoughts, and he spoke with amusement and courtesy. "This is a beautiful place, Miss Fox, and I pray that no more harm comes to your island."
She sucked in her breath suddenly, wishing the same fortune.
Upon reaching the west martello fort, soldiers halted them. Here, there were only a few men, but they were protected by strong walls, and they were wary at the appearance of visitors. Like Fort Zachary Taylor, it was still under construction, but supplies ran daily on the railroad between fortifications.
Finn showed his badge to the young officer who approached them. They were allowed entrance and spoke to the young lieutenant who had been apprised of the situation. They went out to start searching the grounds, and the graveyard. The graves were located toward the beach, and there had been little here before the fort had gone under construction. As they walked out, Tara noticed that an old woman bent over one of the graves that looked freshly dug. But it was no ordinary grave: a heavy piece of coral had been set at the head of it, and there were crosses constructed from palms and bits of wood around it.
Tara went down on her knees by the woman, whom she recognized. Elsi Hatare-and she had come with her husband, Henri, from Haiti, years ago, when Tara had been just a child.
"Elsi," she said, setting a hand on the old woman's. "Is this a grave for one of your family members?"
Elsi looked at her and nodded, great sorrow held in the rheumy gray of her eyes. "Henri," she told her. "Two nights past. He died of a fever and flu."
"I'm so sorry, Elsi."
Elsi continued to look at her. "You've come because you fear the day...?. There is no need. We have tended to these graves. In the islands, we know that the dead don't always rest well." She paused, looking up at Finn. She crossed herself, and spit on the ground. She looked at Tara again. "He is with you?"
"Yes. This is Finn Dunne. I'm so sorry about Henri, Elsi."
"I know you are, Miss Tara. I know you. But I don't know him," she said, staring at Finn again.
"Finn has not come to do trouble here, Elsi," Tara assured her. She tried to think of something to say that would convince the perceptive old woman. "Pete is his friend, too. He is here to help."
Elsi sniffed, and arranged another cross on the grave. "Well, Pete, he knows. But something came to the island. Something evil blew on the wind, just night's back. And they were here among us last night."
"Didn't you hear the church bells?"
Elsi offered her a smile at last. "It's a good church, Miss Tara. The pastors there, they are good people. But we have our own church." She lowered her voice, assuring herself that the soldiers were standing far enough back. "We call it Catholic, for the white folk. It is more than that. Richer, with the culture of the Caribbean. You understand, right?"
"If you are protected and safe," Tara said, "that is what matters."
Elsi nodded. "You needn't fear. We tended to my husband, and to all the dead and dying here."
Tara said again, "I'm so sorry, Elsi. Henri was a very fine man." She stood, offering a hand down to the woman. "May I help you?"
"No, Miss Tara. I will bide here, with Henri."
"Please, Elsi-"
"I will watch for the dusk," she said with finality.
Tara nodded and stepped back. Finn appeared indignant, but he didn't speak. Tara walked back to the soldiers. "It's all right. Elsi and many of her friends are from Haiti. They have their own means of defense, and I believe you are all safer here, because of her."
"I'd not have believed..." one of the soldiers murmured.
"I'll see to it that she eats," the other said awkwardly. "She's been here all day."
"She will appreciate your generosity," Tara told him.
She and Finn returned to their horses.
"She didn't like me!"
Tara laughed. "Ah, well, she knows what you are."
"Then she should know..."
"You're a stranger," she told him. And she smiled again. "You're a stranger, and a Yankee. Everyone here doesn't understand that neither means bad yet!"
He lowered his head, hiding a half smile. "I don't believe that she was worried about me for those reasons."
She had to smile at that. "Elsi has always known many things. The island girls and women always went to her for palm readings. And, of course, reading tea leaves. She could always warn the men of a storm that was brewing, or a ship floundering. At first, only the freemen living in the sparsely settled areas believed her. Eventually, good fishermen, who would show up bright and early for church every Sunday, began to consult with her, too."
She was startled when he reached over and caught her arm.
"What is it?"
"Let's go back," he said.
"Where?"
"To see Elsi."
She was surprised, but she nodded. "If you wish."
The soldiers were concerned with their return to the fort, but Finn quickly assured them they had just come to talk to the widow again.
Finn went back over to Elsi and Tara followed. Her eyes were closed and she was praying. Finn went down to his knees at her side. He waited, patiently. She didn't open her eyes for a long while.
Tara knelt down next to Finn. At last, Elsi opened her eyes and looked at Finn. "What is that you want to know, half-breed?"
"Elsi..." He hesitated a minute, as if he might have worried himself that he was a fool for believing so easily in an island mystic. "My name is Finn. Finn Dunne."
"You're with the soldiers," Elsi said.
He nodded. "But I'm not in the military, Elsi. I'm a detective."
She studied him for a long moment. She waved a hand in the air. "It's been coming. I've felt it. I've felt the evil coming, and I've known that-even when men speak softly in their homes, knowing that war will end-there has been something wrong here. Now it is here. Now it has come in force. It has grown and waited, and there's been such a bitterness beneath the beauty and brilliance of the winter skies. Is that what you're detecting, sir?"
"Elsi, I think that the evil is deeply hidden. And I believe that it's following me."
"Give me your hands."
Finn stretched his arms out, so they extended over the grave.
Elsi took his hands and closed her eyes again. She rocked slightly, humming. She smiled before she opened her eyes. "You have too much pride and arrogance, young man. You have strength, but you rely too much on it. Still, you have honor, as well. And I can feel your heart. You will fight what you see as the good fight. But don't forget, others believe in the honor of their fight, too. What is here is different. A power that you don't see, and don't know. The evil doesn't follow you, but it is going where you will go. You are trying to block it, and the evil sees. The evil sees so much more than you know."
Elsi still had his hands. She held them tightly.
He nodded gravely. "Elsi, when we leave, will the people on the island be safe?"
She nodded gravely. "But you know that!" she told him softly.
"Thank you, Elsi."
She didn't release his hands. "You may help me up now. Already the day grows short. I hear the whisper of darkness on the wind. You, go, too. Take care, young man. You have a good heart. I pray you will survive."
Finn helped her to her feet. She paused, looking at Tara.
"No one can stop you from what you seek," she told her softly. "But the evil will try. You must take care. And hurry. Go to your church. It's winter, and the sun is deceptive. The blue is catching the sun's rays in pastels-we've not much time."
Head high, she left them.
And even as she did so, Tara saw that she was right. The sun was falling into the western sky.
Another night was coming.