Authors: Patricia Hagan
He sounded sad, defeated, and she was touched. “You really believe in it, don’t you? The northern cause. And you would not be deserting if it weren’t for wanting to take me away from the life I’m being forced to live. You’d stay and see the war out to the end if it weren’t for me, wouldn’t you?” She searched his face anxiously in the shadows.
He sighed, obviously pained. “Yeah, I guess I would. But I love you, girl, and my feelings for you are much deeper than what I feel for the Union. I’ve made my choice, but I’ve got to do this one last thing. Maybe by helping destroy the Gray Devil, I can live with myself.
“I shot a deserter once,” he went on hesitantly, as though dreading to tell about it. “It was back in sixty-one, the first battle of Bull Run in July. A young kid, maybe fifteen or sixteen years old, got scared when the shooting started. He turned tail and ran. A friend of mine tried to stop him and stepped in the way of a ball coming from the Rebs that would’ve hit that damn coward. When I saw my friend die because of that kid, I just aimed and fired and shot him right in the back.”
He shuddered. “I’ve hated deserters ever since. And now I’m going to be one.” He shook his head dejectedly.
“You can always help me escape and then come back,” Julie murmured, realizing for the first time just what a fierce loyalty he felt toward his government.
He patted her knee awkwardly. “You seem to forget I’m in love with you, pretty lady, and I want you something awful. I’ve got to have you. I guess I just wanted you to know that you aren’t the only one doing a lot of soul-searching this night. We both have our crosses to bear, don’t we?”
Julie pulled her shawl more tightly about her. “Yes, we do, but when the sun rises tomorrow, it will be not only on a new day, but a new life as well.”
“That’s the way to feel.” He tried to sound jovial. “Now, then. Let’s stop this kind of talk. The next few hours are going to be tough, but then it’s all behind us.”
They rode the rest of the way in silence. Luther turned the carriage over to the boy from the livery stable and led Julie up to her room. “Remember,” he said as he left, his lips brushing hers lightly, “you don’t have to do anything but entice him and make him think you’re all his for the rest of the night. Leave the rest to me and Veston.”
She walked toward the lantern which was burning on the bedside table and he whispered, “It’s going to make it harder for us if we can’t see what we’re doing. We’re going to have to yank him out of bed before we can knife him, to make sure we don’t hit you instead.”
“Then so be it.” She turned the lantern down until the room was plunged into darkness. “I’ll take my chances. I refuse to look into that man’s eyes.”
The sound of the door opening and closing told her that she was alone.
Walking to the bed to sit down, she wondered how long it would be till the Gray Devil arrived. Then she decided to take off the ridiculous feathered dress. She would wait for him in her dressing gown. That way, she reasoned, she could get things started so it would all be over quickly.
Her fingers shook as she fumbled with the fastenings on the dress. There was a faint light coming through the window from the street below. She wished for an instant that she had the nerve to just leap from that window and end it all. Dear God, to think she was actually helping a cold-blooded murder take place! It was more than she could bear, and the taste of blood filled her mouth as she bit down on her lip to keep from bursting into tears.
The soft, almost hesitant, tap on the door made her jump, startled. She could not answer. The tapping was repeated, and this time the sound came from her throat in a squeaky croak as she called, “Come in, please…”
She turned her back, not wanting to see even his silhouette as he entered. She heard the door open and close softly, the sound of footsteps moving cautiously across the room as he groped for her.
“I’m here,” she whispered. “On the bed. Here—”
She felt his weight as he sat down upon the mattress. For a moment he made no move. Then she felt strong, seeking hands touch her hips sliding slowly upward to clasp her breasts possessively. Such big hands…such strength, she thought absently, praying once more that it would all be over quickly…that this faceless, nameless man would become just another memory to obliterate from her life.
And then he spoke. And it was as though the seas had parted, and the dead were walking out from their sandy, murky bottom, their bodies dripping with clinging weeds and flotsam, bringing back the past, so long ago that it was thought to have been buried forever.
“At last we meet again, misty eyes.”
“No—” the sound was a whimper. She tried to shrink away, but his hands upon her breasts kept her pinioned beneath him. “No…no…dear God, no—” She writhed and twisted, sure that this was not real. It could not really be happening.
His thumbs and forefingers pinched at her nipples painfully, as though he wanted to hurt her deliberately. “I should have known someone as devious and beguiling as you would find a way to survive the ravages of war, Julie, but this did come as a surprise.”
“Derek! God, no, Derek. Anyone but you!” she cried, trying to claw her way out of the invisible net that had fallen over her, holding her imprisoned. “Please, no!”
“Embarrassed?” He laughed mockingly. “There’s really no need to be. Just think of me as another customer. I paid a high price for your favors, and I intend to enjoy myself.”
He moved away abruptly. “I want to look at you. I always did take special delight in seeing your body when we made love.”
She had no time to protest as he quickly ignited the lamp and the room was bathed in an orange glow. She could see him—the beautiful bulk of him—but then she saw the patch over one eye and she was trying to gain control of her swirling, muddled brain to tell him what was happening. But it was as though she was having some kind of seizure and could not speak. No words could be forced from her twisting, jerking lips.
He bent over her once again, just as the door opened with a loud crash. Derek whirled around, instantly alert, but froze as he faced the two men who stepped quickly inside. One held a gun, the other, a knife.
“No!” Julie screamed shrilly. “Luther, no! It’s Derek! It’s Derek. You can’t—”
Luther’s brown eyes rolled wildly as the realization of what she said washed over him. Derek. The name she had whimpered so many nights in her sleep. The man who he’d felt all along she would love forever. Derek Arnhardt—Ironheart—the Gray Devil.
“Cut him!” Veston snapped nervously. “Quick. We don’t want no noise, but I’ll shoot if I have to.”
Stricken, bewildered, Derek’s eyes turned to Julie. “A trap! You set me up—”
“I didn’t know,” she babbled, terrified. “Dear God, Derek. You must believe me. I didn’t know it was you they were after.”
Veston gave Luther a nudge, snarling, “Get it over with, dammit, and be quick. Don’t make me have to shoot him. It’s too risky.”
Derek stood with legs apart, fists clenched, ready for the man with the knife to advance.
Suddenly Julie was upon her knees on the bed, arms outstretched toward Luther as she pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks, “Please, Luther, don’t do it. You can’t. Just let him go, please—”
Veston pointed his gun at her as he hissed, “Get out of the way, damn you, or you’ll get yours too!”
Without warning, Luther whipped about and sent his knife plunging into Veston’s chest. Derek started forward, but Julie had leaped to her feet, blocking his path. He gave her a shove that quickly sent her sprawling to the floor at the same second that Gordon Fox burst through the doorway, gun in hand.
Derek froze, facing the weapon which was pointed straight at him.
“What the hell is going on?” Gordon looked down at Veston’s body in horror. “Goddammit, Luther, what have you done?”
With surprising calmness, Luther replied tonelessly, “He was going to shoot Julie. You know I couldn’t let that happen.”
Gordon looked baffled, and his gun hand wavered ever so slightly. Derek leaped for him. Instantly Luther was moving also. The three men came together with almost maniacal screams.
The gun exploded.
Julie fought to cling to her sanity as she saw the three melding together. One slumped to the floor. There was a flash of steel as a knife hit its target. Another fell.
Then she saw it was Derek who was left standing, and he was holding Luther’s bloodied knife. He knelt quickly, lifting Luther’s head in his arms as she crawled forward, the world becoming a mist about her.
“Why did you do it?” Derek demanded of the dying man, his voice hoarse and face stricken. “You saved my life when you came here to take it. Why? Why?” With anguish, he stared down at the glazed brown eyes.
Luther’s whispered words were barely audible as he choked through quivering lips, “For Julie…just love her…as I did…”
His head slumped to the side, eyes staring blankly. The caring, tender expression had been replaced forever by the empty stare of the dead.
Derek laid his head gently down, then turned to Julie and snapped, “We’re getting out of here. The noise is sure to bring people running.” He lifted her easily into his arms, carried her out of the room down the hallway. Leaving through a door at the end of the corridor, he hurried down narrow steps, moving into the shadows of the night.
She was sobbing quietly, head against his chest. She was drifting between two worlds: one of stark reality, filled with horror, and one that coaxed her into oblivion. She did not know where he was taking her or why, for suddenly it seemed as though she were not really alive at all, merely caught in an eternal limbo of pain and confusion.
He set her on her feet. They were in a narrow alley between two buildings, and a dim light from the street cast shadows over them. She saw the way he was looking at her with eyes of thunder.
His right hand wrapped coldly about her neck as he pressed her against the side of a building. For long moments he just stared at her, and she could feel his hatred. Then he ground out the words: “I don’t know what that was all about, but I wish to God I’d never laid eyes on you. What have I ever done to you that you’d want me dead? You set me up. Dammit to hell, Julie, just what kind of conniving, cold-hearted bitch are you?”
He rushed on, giving her no chance to speak. “That man back there, the one who gave his life for me, who was he? He was supposed to kill me, yet he saved my life because at the last minute you begged him to. What was the reason behind that? Did you suddenly decide that you couldn’t add murder to your list of sins? Well, you did a good job on him…twisted his heart around your finger till he was prepared to die for you. And you murdered him the same as if you’d pulled the trigger yourself!”
“Listen to me, please—” She struggled as his fingers tightened about her throat, making it difficult to get the words out. “Derek, I never knew it was you. I swear. They told me they were after the Gray Devil. That’s
all
I was told. And Luther knew I was being held against my will, and he loved me. We were running away after tonight—”
He gave her head a shake, banging her painfully against the wall. “None of it makes any sense. You’re a conniving little slut, and you’re the one who should be dead. Hell, I could’ve overlooked it if you’d just turned to being a prostitute, if that’s what it took to survive this goddamn war to keep from starving. I could have accepted it, but to work for the Yankees? To help kill your own people? How could you do it?”
He slapped her then, hard, and his voice spun through blurring lights and spinning stabs of pain: “Damn you to hell, woman! I ought to break your neck and end your worthless life to save other men from your devilish tricks.”
“Then do it!” she screamed, suddenly boiling in a sizzling, rebellious rage. “Go on and kill me. What have I got to live for now, anyway? Everyone who ever loved me is dead. I never loved Luther, but he loved me, and he died because he knew it was
you
I’d always wanted. But now I hate you as I hated Gordon Fox and all the others who used me. So kill me! You’ll be doing me a favor!”
He squinted as he stared down at her in the shadows. She did not flinch as his fingers moved about her throat once again. “Yes, I would be doing you a favor.” He spoke in that quiet, dread tone she had heard him use so many times to intimidate his crewmen into trembling shreds of manhood. “But I don’t want to do you any favors. You’re going to suffer for what you’ve done. You’re going to have to face the one person who believed in you.”
He grabbed her arm and started jerking her along in the alley. “What are you talking about?” she cried, falling to her knees. He kept dragging her as she screamed, “Stop it! You’re hurting me, Derek! Have you lost your mind? There’s no one left for me. Just kill me and be done with it…“ She dissolved into tears once more, hating herself for being so weak.
He stopped to lift her in his arms as she beat at him with her fists in protest; but when he spoke, her arms fell limply at her sides as she stared at him in shock. “I’m taking you to Myles. I’m going to tell him how I found you, what you’ve become. When he hears the truth, that will be more punishment than any I could give you.”
“Myles is dead! I know he’s dead. He died months ago. Gordon Fox told me—”
“No, he’s not dead, but he’ll wish he was when I dump you at his feet and tell him what a slut his sister is.”