Bound By Sin (A Cin Craven Novel) Page 13

  I watched the large man as I said this and saw a smile of satisfaction twitch at the corners of his mouth.

  “My husband and I will be returning to England soon, but before we go there are some changes I want to implement on this plantation. Hard times are coming and I want this island to be able to support itself when that happens. I have faith that plantations such as this one, run by slave labor, will soon be a thing of the past. What I want to build here is a model for the future. It was my intention to give each of you your freedom, but I’m told that it’s not as simple as that. For those of you who wish to travel to a free state and gain your freedom that way, I will help you do so, both logistically and financially. For those of you who wish to stay here, I will make you this promise: when the Union wins this war, or the laws change and I can legally grant you your freedom, I will do so immediately. At that time, if you wish, you can leave this island and I will settle a sum of money on you to help you start a new life. It won’t be easy. A war is raging in your country. Right now it’s far away, but soon it will be on your doorstep. When it’s over, this country will no longer be the same and I fear life in it will be very hard for some time. You can take the money and make your way in the new world that’s opening up out there, or you can stay on Devil’s Island. If you decide to stay, here is what I’m offering:

  “From this day forward you’ll see fair pay for a day’s work. You’ll also share in the profits from the crops that are raised here. A new village will be built with finer cabins for you all. And there will be a schoolhouse where your children can receive an education,” I added, coming up with that last idea on the spur of the moment.

  “Educating them is also illegal,” Lizzie whispered.

  “Oh, honestly, who’s going to tell on me?” I whispered back. Aloud, I continued, “Mrs. McCready will move into the big house and she will take on the job of overseer of this plantation.”

  There was a murmur through the crowd and the big man in the back spoke up. “With all due respect, ma’am, you expect Miss Lizzie to be out in the fields in the sweltering heat, supervisin’ the field hands?”

  “No, I don’t,” I said. “Mister—?”

  The crowd parted and the big man strode to the front, stopping directly before the wagon.

  “Name’s Ulysses,” he replied, crossing his arms over his chest again.

  Of course it is, I thought. “Mr. McCready’s former job will now be handled by two people, working together as partners,” I explained. “Mrs. McCready will handle the bookkeeping, the payroll, the plans for the crops, and the sale of the harvest. Basically, she’ll be responsible for everything Mr. Boucher and Mr. McCready did except for the direct supervision of the workers. For that job we’ve chosen a man I think you’ll all approve of.”

  “And who might that be?” Ulysses asked, looking unimpressed.

  I smiled down at him. “Well, that would be you, sir. Mrs. McCready assures me that I could find no better man to do the job. When she moves into the big house, you and Pandora may have her cottage as part of the compensation for your new position.”

  A hushed silence fell over the crowd. Even Pandora was staring at me as if I wasn’t speaking English.

  “War is an ugly thing,” I said, filling the silence. “It often brings disease, starvation, and poverty. This island is so beautiful and I don’t want that ugliness to touch it. You have the resources available, both from the land and the sea, to feed yourselves well and still make a profit. Perhaps this plantation will never again see the grandeur that it once did but, by making Devil’s Island as self-contained and self-sufficient as possible, you can survive this war and the hard years that will follow much better than most of the country will.”

  The silent crowd looked at Ulysses, and Ulysses looked at his wife. I turned to Pandora, confused. I had expected a better reaction than this but she was staring at me as if I’d suddenly grown a second head.

  “Ma’am,” she said slowly, “Did you just promise us our freedom, land, and wages, and give my husband a white man’s job?”

  “That about sums it up,” I said. “So, what do you think?”

  She shook her head, bemused, then a big smile crept over her face. She grasped my hand and the moment she touched me I could feel her magic call to mine. The darkness stirred like a nest of snakes in my belly. I quickly pulled my hand away, but Pandora didn’t seem to notice.

  “I think we’re gonna show those white folks that we can make this the best damned plantation in the south!” she shouted.

  A cheer went up through the crowd and Ulysses reached up and plucked his wife down from the wagon, twirling her around while she laughed. People gathered around Lizzie asking questions, which she readily answered. It was clear that she cared for them and they held a great amount of respect and affection for her. I turned in Michael’s arms and smiled up at him.

  “You did a good thing here, lass,” he said.

  I leaned up and kissed him. “We did a good thing,” I said. “I’m almost glad that getting Claire back didn’t go as smoothly as we’d planned.” I gazed out over the village, imagining what it would look like in a year, or ten. “We fight evil, which is a great and noble calling, but it’s nice for once to do something that has more than a theoretical impact on the future. I want to build something here and I want to come back over the years and watch it grow and change. I want to do for this island what my ancestors did for Glen Gregor.”

  “A safe haven in a time of war,” Michael said. “Well, if that’s what you want, mo chridhe, then that’s what you shall have.”

  CHAPTER 34

  It was very late when Hector finally returned Michael, Claire, and me to the house. I sailed happily into the parlor and began looking for a decanter, intent on toasting to the success of our plans.

  “Oh, for the love of Danu,” I muttered as I opened a rococo cabinet to find nothing in it but a tea service. “Why is there no liquor in this house?”

  “There is somewhere,” Claire said. “I’ve seen Adrien drink it. But on the last Sunday of every month Reverend Simmons comes out to the island to preach and he always stays for supper.” Claire wrinkled her nose. “That was the only meal I’ve had on this island that I didn’t enjoy. Adrien hides the liquor when the reverend comes, but I don’t know where.”

  I rolled my eyes and shouted to the ceiling, “Evangeline, come down here please!”

  “I will not be summoned like some lackey,” the ghost hissed as she popped into her favorite chair.

  As if she somehow knew where her mistress would be, the tabby cat dashed into the room and hopped up on the arm of the chair. Absently, I reached down to pet her.

  “Don’t!” Claire and Evangeline shouted simultaneously, but it was too late.

  The cat spit at me and raked its claws across my hand, leaving four deep furrows in my skin. I jerked my hand away and the cat’s back hunched up, her long hair standing on end as she growled and spat a final warning. Before I even thought about what I was doing, my canines lengthened and I hissed back at her, showing her that I had much larger teeth than she did. The tabby turned tail and flew out of the room as if the very hounds of hell were chasing her.

  “That was rude,” Evangeline said.

  “She started it,” I protested.

  Claire laughed. “For future reference, never attempt to touch Vendetta.”

  I looked at Evangeline. “You named your cat Vendetta?” I asked incredulously.

  The ghost smiled wickedly. “Originally she had another name but as a kitten she took a prompt and particular dislike to my husband. He couldn’t leave any article of clothing lying around or she’d pee on it. I have no doubt that she would have followed me to an early grave except for the fact that no one but me can lay a hand on her.”

  I narrowed my eyes at the ghost. “Keep your cat off my clothes.”

  “Of course,” she said, a little too sweetly.

  “While I’m sure the conversation is fascinating,” Michael
interrupted, holding up an empty glass, “could we return to the topic of Reverend Simmons and the liquor?”

  “That fat, judgmental bastard,” Evangeline spat. “Oh, it’s behind the books on the third shelf, dear. Yes, you should hear the way the reverend goes on about the evils of lust and demon liquor, and how we have to eradicate sin from our lives.”

  She said this in what I assumed to be an exaggerated impression of the reverend and I chuckled as I reached behind the books.

  “I mean, really,” Evangeline went on, “does he honestly expect that all his fire and brimstone speeches are gonna do a lick of good? Sin is fun. If it wasn’t, no one would do it and he’d be out of a job!”

  I retrieved a bottle filled with clear liquid from the back of the bookshelf. I certainly hoped it was vodka and not gin. Pulling the cork out, I took a whiff.

  “Oh dear Goddess!” I exclaimed. “What is this stuff?”

  “White lightning,” Evangeline replied. “You’d think I would have realized from his taste in liquor that Adrien wasn’t anything but white trash, now wouldn’t you?”

  Gingerly, I took a sip and indeed it burned like lightning all the way down. I exhaled, feeling as though my mouth were on fire.

  “That might actually be strong enough to get a vampire drunk!” I said and passed the glass to Michael.

  As I poured another glass for myself, I caught Claire glancing at the clock on the mantle. I knew she was counting the minutes until she could summon Ares from the urn. I handed her a glass of water and raised my own.

  “To the new Kenneway Plantation, may it thrive and prosper,” I toasted.

  “We still have a great deal to accomplish in very little time,” Michael said, “but I think we made an excellent start tonight.”

  “Speaking of time,” Claire said. “When will your friends’ ship return for us?”

  I looked questioningly at Michael.

  “I don’t think we can expect them back in less than a fortnight,” he replied. “If they can’t make it before the full moon, we may have a longer wait than that.”

  “Would that be such a bad thing?” Claire asked, speaking more to herself than to us. Then she glanced again at the clock.

  “No,” Michael said. “But I’m sure you’re eager to get home and see your family.”

  “Yes,” Claire said, swirling her water around in her glass. “I would love to see my family again.”

  Michael didn’t seem to notice it, but I did. Claire said she was eager to see her family, but not that she was eager to return home. I wondered why.

  “I believe I’ll retire for the evening,” she announced.

  “Good night, dear,” Michael said and kissed her on the cheek.

  “Yes, good night,” I replied thoughtfully.

  I looked at Evangeline, who had been unusually quiet. She was watching Claire’s retreating figure with the same worried expression I was.

  CHAPTER 35

  Near dawn I took a glass of my beloved whisky and opened the porch doors of the master suite, intent on taking a quick stroll before bed. I stopped before I’d even taken a step outside and turned to Michael.

  “You’re stalking me,” I said accusingly.

  “No, I’m not,” he replied, looking a bit embarrassed.

  “Yes, you are. I haven’t had a moment to myself in the last twenty-four hours. I feel fine, Michael. Pandora is in the village and there’s nothing out there on the porch that’s going to set me off. If, as we’ve always assumed, the black magic reacts to my temper,” I said, poking one finger into his chest, “you’re pushing it.”

  He rocked back on his heels and looked at me incredulously. “You wouldn’t hurt me.”

  “Well, no, I wouldn’t,” I agreed, somewhat deflated. Then I narrowed my eyes at him. “But if you ever want to see me naked again you need to back off and give me some room to breathe.”

  “Fine, but if you eat someone, don’t blame me,” he said wryly.

  “I won’t,” I snapped and firmly shut the door in his face.

  I stifled a giggle and shook my head. By the gods, what a mess, I thought.

  Tomorrow night Michael and I would have to take the boat into Savannah. He hadn’t fed since we left the city. It wasn’t necessary to drink every night but it wasn’t a wise idea to go too long without blood either, especially around humans you don’t wish to drink from. A hungry vampire cannot be trusted, Devlin always said. Apparently right now I couldn’t be trusted either and, rightly or wrongly, that fact galled me.

  Perhaps things would be better if I were away from the island and its dark influences. Michael and I would go back to Savannah, spend a night or two, and drink our fill. Hopefully Devlin and Justine would be back from Jamaica before we needed to feed again. We would, of course, have to take Claire with us, one of us staying with her at all times to guarantee her safety.

  I took a sip of whisky and tried to push everything out of my mind. Instead, I watched the breeze play through the branches of the oaks. The Spanish moss swayed gently in the trees, the crickets chirped in the garden, the frogs in the salt marshes called to each other . . . and in that brief moment I had the overwhelming feeling that all was right with the world. Or perhaps it was just a feeling that it would all work out well in the end. It simply felt good to stand here on the porch of a house that I owned and feel as though I once again had some roots.

  I knew that what I did as a member of The Righteous was worthwhile. I helped to make the world a safer place, for vampires and humans alike. Still, the constant traveling and unending violence that was my life sometimes took its toll. I’d occasionally wondered, lately, what it would be like to give all that up for someplace like this. When you live forever, though, you need something more than peace and quiet to occupy your time. If I didn’t have to get Claire home to her worried family, I would have enjoyed staying here for a while. But I knew that eventually this would not be enough, for me or for Michael.

  I took a large sip of whisky and began to wander, trailing my fingers across the porch rail as I went. The porches encircled the whole house and I walked along, enjoying the view from different angles—the oak-lined drive in the front, the little cemetery on the east side of the property, the kitchen and gardens at the rear of the house. I turned the last corner to find Ares standing on the porch, his arms braced against the railing, looking out on the northern horizon.

  He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “There is war to the north.”

  It made me slightly uncomfortable the way he said war in the same tone I might say whisky or chocolate.

  “Yes, there is.” I looked off into the distance, following his gaze. “Are you going to go?”

  He shook his head. “I cannot. The urn, my prison, is here and that is where I must remain. I’ve lost the power to shift through space and time.”

  “Do you want to go?” I inquired, which was probably the more pertinent question.

  “I am a god of war,” he replied simply.

  “That isn’t what I asked.”

  He turned and looked behind us, through the open porch doors to Claire’s bedroom. She was asleep, her copper curls spread across the crisp white sheets. Even in slumber she looked content, happy.

  “I think . . . I think I would rather stay here, with her.”

  I cocked my head to one side. Claire was a pretty girl, but I’d thought that perhaps his interest in her was no more than that of a man who had been without the company of a woman for a very, very long time. Now I wasn’t so sure.

  “She is . . . complicated,” he said, “and more damaged than she seems. Even so, she doesn’t hold back her heart. She gives it away with both hands. I’ve never known anyone like her. She is . . . the light to my darkness. Can you understand that?”

  I nodded. “More than you know.”

  “Before she learned how to free me, I would sit in my prison and sometimes I would hear her crying at night. She doesn’t cry anymore and that . . . pleases me.”

>   I started to say that it pleased me as well, but there was a sudden flash of light and he was gone. I blinked.

  Well, I thought, Claire did say that they had no control over when the urn reclaims him.

  I walked into Claire’s room and picked up the urn from the nightstand. Quietly, I laid it on the bed next to her and pulled the covers up around her.

  “You should leave her here,” Evangeline said softly from behind me.

  I turned to see the ghost lounging against the porch door, looking in at Claire.

  “You’re just saying that because when we leave you won’t have anyone who can see you or hear you anymore,” I told her.

  Evangeline shrugged. “I’ll freely admit to being selfish enough to want her to stay for just that reason, but I was actually thinking of what was best for her. What’s she to say when she comes home with no father for her baby? At least, not one that she can publicly claim.”

  “We’ll think of a plausible story,” I assured her, though I didn’t know what that might be.

  “Another dead husband? Or maybe some louse who married her and then ran out on her? Those are pretty much your only options. If she’s lucky they’ll pity her into an early grave. Most likely no one will believe a word of it and they’ll tear her to pieces.”

  “The people of Glen Gregor are not like that. Her mother would not allow such behavior.”

  “All people are like that,” Evangeline said bitterly. “If they don’t do it to her face, they’ll do it behind her back. She’d be better off here, where no one will look down on her or the child.”

  I turned back to Claire. She’d been through so much in her young life already. I knew deep down that Evangeline was right and it tore at my sense of honor. I’d made a promise to Raina to bring Claire home safely, but what if home wasn’t the safest place for Claire?

  CHAPTER 36

  I was blissfully asleep—basking in a lovely dream involving me, Michael, and a pot of melted chocolate—when Evangeline’s screeching woke me.