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.The buggy was already hitched and waiting, and Jeanne took up the reins and whip as if she were quite accustom being the master of such a contraption.Driving the horses with no mercy, she careened through the cobblestone streets, the dim spots of illumination from the gas lamps glistening in the gutters.The bumping and rocking of the buggy jostled my already blurry vision, causing me to feel sick as I tried to chase her thoughts.They came in clips of vivid color and bleak darkness, scenes of her husband with another woman on his arm.Ugly screaming matches between him and Jeanne played out in shredded bits laced with hate.At last she pulled the horse to a stop and leaped out, nearly falling as her expensive shoes slid on the stone street.I tried to look around, to discern where we might be, but Jeanne’s focus lie only on the contents of the small storage space on the back of the buggy.I watched in horror, suddenly understanding all that was about to happen, as her small hands grasped the handles of two oil lamps.She let them bang nosily against her legs as she ran toward the house on the corner across the street.A shadow moved in the window, dancing in the candlelight within, but I couldn’t tell its sex or size through the blur of Jeanne’s tears and the haze that separated her mind from mine.When at last she stopped to catch her breath, I could finally see our destination clearly.Neither large or expensive, but neatly kept just the same, I had no doubt that it was the home of Mr.Copperbelt’s mistress.“Curse you, Satan.You swore it.You swore he’d be mine! All those sacrifices.Even my dearest Chamile and Jason.I gave to you what you asked.He isn’t mine.Damn you! He has always been hers!”Trapped in her thoughts, unable to form my own, I gave in to the onslaught of her memories.I saw her, a young girl, madly in love.She’d struck a deal with the devil for his love, twelve for one.She’d sacrificed her childhood friends, strangers, and even her younger sister to have the subject of her deepest desires.Murderer… she poisoned them all.When I finally escaped the horrid visions of what she had done to twelve innocent souls, my eyes caught the sight of the first lantern as she smashed its base against the side of the house.“Don’t, don’t!” I pleaded, but it was too late.I knew the things I was seeing had already come to pass, but still, I begged her anyway.The strike of the match and the bright flare of light sent me reeling backward, down a tunnel of darkness and heat.I could feel thousands of hands reaching out to touch my body, grabbing at me as if they wanted to tear me apart.I was falling into the very pits of hell, not as Jeanne, but as myself.I found myself in a room, an old woman sat by the bed of a woman barely older than myself.Tears trekked down her soft and wrinkled cheeks as she turned to me and said, “Poison.She should have died.Life would have been kinder if she had.Instead, she has lain in this bed for many years, unable to speak, her body slowly dying.And I wonder if she knows.I pray she does not feel pain, but she is trapped inside her mind, and cannot speak.There were twelve people poisoned that summer, but none survived, only her.”The woman faded away, and I understood that she’d never been there.She was a spirit, not one of mine, but a guardian for the young woman who lay hooked to machines that grinded and whined as they kept her alive.The constant chug of the little steam engines that ran the ventilator and pumped the liquid into her veins from long tubes became deafening as I stared at the face of one of Jeanne’s victims.Suddenly, she screamed without making a sound.Her voice shattering the inside of my skull as the pain she felt every waking minute shot through my body, crippling me.I fell backward, and then once again, I descended into the dark tunnel.My cries of terror rising to meet hers, could not deafen the sound of Lucifer’s voice.“She promised twelve, but only gave eleven.Hers will fill its place.”June 4, 1867The Home of Odessa Olivia Simmonds, Wren CityWhen I awakened, the sun had set, and Margaret was fidgeting outside my door.I had slept the night and day away.“Odessa, the lady will be arriving soon.I have already prepared the parlor.Is there anything you need?”I stretched as I climbed from the bed, my body stiff from lying for so long.“No, Margaret, I think I have everything I need.”She skirted into the room, eyes locked onto the contents of the table.“I heard your screams.”“Nightmares, my friend.Actually, visions.This woman, she is not a good soul.I have seen her deeds with my own two eyes, and it has taken my quilt away.”Margaret sat a cup of tea on the stand beside my bed, unwilling to go near the tools and product of the dark magic that had been worked in the room the night before.“As always, I have no doubts on your judgment, Odessa.I will go and light the fire while you dress.”I had never been a person who liked to touch others, personal space was quite a thing for me, but I hugged Margaret before she could turn away.“You have been like a sister to me [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]