Aether Spirit (29 page)

“I won’t forget, don’t worry.” He shook Longchamp’s hand. “And thank you for everything.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank Mister O’Connell when you see him. And God speed.”

Chapter Thirty

Fort Temperance, 3 March 1871

When Claire slumped forward, Patrick caught her as best he could with his bound hands.

“Hold her so she doesn’t fall,” he told Nanette. The nurse-traitor rolled her eyes but complied.

“What’s wrong with the girl? Is she ill?” Lee waved a hand in front of his face. “We don’t need anyone bringing more sickness into Fort Temperance. The season’s already rough as it is.”

“No, it was seeing the ring,” Patrick said. “It’s a long story. What were you thinking?” he asked Nanette.

“That she was manipulating Doctor Radcliffe’s sympathies with all her swooning and fainting.” She placed the back of one hand on her forehead and looked up while saying in a falsetto voice. “Oh, help me, Doctor, I cannot control my mind.”

“Well, she canna. And you’ve just eliminated any chance we’ll help you build your own aether gun. Not that there was any to begin with.”

“Heroic words, Mister O’Connell, but are you willing to stand by them?” Lee asked. He slumped back, and his mouth twisted like he hated to ask, “What would you say if I told you that the girl’s life will depend on your cooperation?”

Patrick felt sorry for the old general, who seemed to be play-acting the villain to get his way, but he wouldn’t let Claire be threatened. “I would say you’re a daft old man because I need her sane and conscious to calibrate part of the weapon.”

He shut his mouth before he told them any more. He’d almost slipped and told them about the lens. He reminded himself to focus, that he’d left enough tools with Longchamp for just such an emergency.

“And what part would that be?”

Patrick deliberately didn’t open his mouth.

The general and Nanette exchanged looks.

“Have some of the boys put them in the prison. Perhaps if they go long enough without food and water, they’ll start to work for their supper.”

“I can only warn you that General Morley will not take this lightly,” Patrick said. “And by keeping us here, you’re risking your fort and your men. I know that one of the walls was damaged by
La Reine
. It will only take one or two more hits to crumble it and that entire side of the base.”

“And what do you think he’ll be destroying, boy? This is a dying military installation in a dying cause. I’m not gonna lie, you’re our last hope. But if General Morley wants to take me out, he’s going to take you and the young lady too. Then the Union will only have one of those fancy light guns.”

Patrick stood when one of the guards tugged on the rope that bound his hands. “One is all they need.”

Lee turned a mottled shade of red and looked at the guards. “Put him and the young lady in the prison. Let them await their doom with the rest of the Union slime.”

One of the guards picked up Claire, and Patrick was relieved he handled her carefully. He moved closer to Patrick once they stepped into the chill air and whispered such that Patrick had to strain to hear him.

“I’m loyal to the Confederacy, but I can see the writing on the wall, and I can’t cotton a young lady being mistreated. I’ll put her with you so you can watch over her. Just remember me when the time comes.”

“Aye, I’ll do my best.”

The soldier did as promised, but he didn’t untie Patrick’s hands. That would have been too obvious help, Patrick supposed. Meanwhile, Patrick stood over Claire where she lay on the rough bench. He didn’t think she was aware of what was happening, but tears ran down her cheeks.

“They could have at least given you sweet dreams, lass. Don’t worry. Your love will come for you.”

And I hope he makes it, or we’re all lost.

* * * * *

The almost full moon illuminated the high clouds, which cast strange shadows that scudded over the bluffs. The landscape looked alive, and Chad hoped he could mimic the motion so he seemed part of it. He stayed away from the few trees left because they could hold snipers that would take a shot at anything that looked suspicious. By the time he crossed the border, he was sweating under the helmet and cape, but he dared not remove them.

On the Confederate side, the terrain became rougher, and he had to tread carefully lest he turn his ankle in a mole hole or dried stream bed. Something glinted in one he crossed, and he turned back and investigated. He found a pair of spectacles. One of the lenses had a crack down the center, but they were otherwise in good shape, and he recognized them as Claire’s. He tucked them in a pocket and said a brief prayer that he would be able to return them to her, that she would be unharmed.

Chad darted from shadow to shadow and found himself faced with the crumbling walls of the Confederate fort. That meant he’d been going for at least sixty minutes, and he tried to calculate how long he had left before General Morley sounded the attack.

However long it was, it was too short. He told himself to focus—if he kept moving toward his objective, it would only help him. Never mind that he was about to sneak into a compound full of armed men who would more than happily shoot him or enslave him.

I’d give my freedom in exchange for Claire’s any day.

He only hoped they hadn’t hurt—or worse, raped—her. Then he didn’t think he would be able to control his rage, and that wouldn’t help any of them.

Through the goggles, he made out the shapes of the guards stationed at the corners of the fort. He waited for a cloud to cover the moon and ran for the shadows of the walls.

A shot behind him made him dive for the ground, and something whizzed by his head and knocked his helmet aside. Warm liquid oozed down his neck, and he suppressed a hiss at the sudden sharp pain in his right ear.

That was close. The bullet from the sniper’s steam rifle had nicked him, perhaps more. He couldn’t tell through the gloves, and he dared not remove them. He crept toward the shadows of the fort’s walls. Once he reached them and was sure he was as invisible as possible, he pulled the pistol from its holster and made sure the silencer was screwed on.

The slight bit of safety released his anger. These bastards had killed his men, the ones he’d brought back to health and cared for.

A soft voice played in his mind, “Calm now, Chadwick.”

He forced himself to enter into the distant emotional state he used when searching the battlefield for living wounded.

A tree branch’s movement caught his attention, and he fired in that direction. Although not truly silent, the pistol made a popping sound instead of a blast, and something heavy fell from the tree with a satisfying thud. His satisfaction was short-lived when he recognized he’d taken revenge on a soldier for doing his job. Rather than being behind the walls with this battle, he was in the thick of it, and he’d possibly have to take more lives before it was over.

Hippocrates, forgive me.

* * * * *

Boston, 4 March 1865

“The evening Claire turned eighteen, her life changed forever.”

She wrote the words in her diary, the only place she allowed herself to express such silly notions. What were the chances her life would go in a completely unexpected direction? She closed the book, tucked it under her mattress, and checked her reflection in the mirror for the hundredth time. She looked normal, perhaps even pretty, but she couldn’t ignore an odd tingling sensation in her scalp that subsided when she attended to it but returned when she turned her attention elsewhere.

“They’re ready for you, Miss,” her maid told her, and Claire stood and smoothed her skirts even though she’d been sitting unusually still for her so they wouldn’t wrinkle. When she walked into the hall, the sounds of people talking, glass clinking, and music made her smile, but first there was the obligatory parental meeting.

Just like every year previously, her father and mother waited for her in the little sitting room off their bedroom, but this year her mother’s lips were tucked into a regretful frown, and her father wore a weary grin.

“We’ve had a lot of discussion about this year’s present,” he said. “It’s hard to tell what to get for a girl who doesn’t like typical girl things.”

Claire shrugged. The scalp tingle was back and distracted her such that she almost missed her mother’s words.

“And I’ve come to realize that your path isn’t going to be the same as other young ladies’, and you’ll have some unique challenges.”

This was different. Typically they told her they loved her and they were proud of her, then gave her their present.

“Have I done something wrong?” she asked. Their demeanor unsettled her.

“Nothing that millions of young ladies haven’t done in the past. That is, fallen in love with someone whom society feels isn’t the best match for them.”

They’re talking about Chadwick!
The thoughts of him made her cheeks heat, especially when she remembered their kisses. They hadn’t done anything beyond that, but she knew there was more.

“And what do you feel?” she asked. “Or rather, what do you think?”

Her parents looked at each other and held hands. Her father spoke. “We’ve done our best to teach you to see the humanity in everyone regardless of what they look like, so the fact that you’re able to see what a great young man Chadwick Radcliffe is, well, it makes us so proud.”

“But it also concerns us,” her mother added. “You know others will not support this match.”

“Like Aunt Eliza.” Claire was old enough to know that her rich aunt, rich racist aunt, held more control over her parents than she should be allowed, but no one wanted to cross her. Although generally stingy with her money, she had helped Claire’s parents on a few occasions when her father’s tinkering hadn’t brought in enough, and her mother hadn’t been able to find work teaching. Eliza believed that Claire’s mother Melanie had married below her, and those in her set agreed.

Now neither of them would meet her challenging stare, and she knew she was right. “You can’t let her control you like this,” she said. “I’ve certainly no intention of bowing to her will. Chadwick will be a doctor, and we’ll make enough to live comfortably.”

Her mother spoke again. “Money isn’t the only issue.” She squeezed her husband’s hand, which rested on her shoulder. “I love your father, but marriage is hard work. They don’t tell you that in the fairy tales, but there are challenges to every happily ever after. I want you to have the best chance of success at it, and I don’t want you to put yourself in a position where difficulties both from outside and within overwhelm your happiness.”

“Our gift to you this year is our honesty,” Allen said. “We’ve tried to shield you children from the consequences of our choices, but I’ll tell you it would have been easier—much easier—for us both if we had married within our social class, although I wouldn’t have traded it for a thousand dollars.” He smiled at his wife, and Claire swallowed against the pain in her throat that heralded tears. They really did love each other, but she’d never appreciated the sacrifices they’d made for it.

Claire looked at her father and waited for what he would say next. He always took her side, understood her. What would he do now? And did this conversation mean what she hoped it did?

“Tonight Chadwick will ask you a question,” he said.

“I knew it!” Claire tried not to jump up and down with glee, but it was hard. She’d had a feeling he was going to propose.

“Listen to your father,” Melanie told her.

“And although you feel you already have your answer—feel, not think—we want you to go into this decision with your eyes open and with full awareness of the risks. Your Aunt Eliza isn’t the only one opposed to you applying to the governor for permission to marry a Negro.”

“He’s half Negro, and who else?” Claire heard her father’s warning to think, not feel, but she couldn’t help the explosion of joy in her chest, especially since this conversation meant they weren’t forbidding the match. She didn’t allow herself to think about her Aunt Eliza’s influence in high circles and how she might prejudice the governor against Claire and Chadwick’s suit.

Melanie shook her head. “I have no concrete proof, so I hesitate to name names, but it’s someone close to you. He thinks he’s been hiding his feelings, but they’re obvious.”

“Aidan.” Her brother. He’d always been polite to Chadwick, but after Chadwick had started courting Claire, Aidan had made more efforts to introduce her to his own friends.

“We can’t say.” Her mother stood and took Claire’s face in her hands. “We’re here for you no matter what, but please be careful. We don’t know to what lengths people will go to keep you apart.” She hugged Claire close to her and whispered, “But I can say my dearest hope is to see you happy, whatever that looks like.”

Allen pulled his daughter and wife to him. “I have given Chadwick my consent to ask for your hand, but the decision is up to you. Although our resources are limited, we will do what we can to support you.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Fort Temperance, 3 March 1871

Chadwick turned away from the extra shadow that was the dead or badly injured man and turned his attention to the fort. Conscious of being outnumbered and outgunned, he skirted the walls and looked for a way that wouldn’t involve going over them. No luck—there was only one way in or out of Fort Temperance, and three guards stood in front of the heavy door reinforced with iron studs. He guessed that even if he could draw them away, getting through the door would be nigh impossible without explosives.

Up and over, then. The most promising side with regard to height was the one that had been damaged by
La Reine
, but he guessed it was most heavily guarded, and he didn’t want to send the grappling hook over just to have it pull a chunk of brick and mortar atop him when he tried to climb. Plus, it was the one the moon shone most brightly on, which would help him with his climb but put him most in danger of being spotted.

The clock on the base struck midnight, and a bead of sweat crept down Chad’s face. He needed to make his decision soon so he’d have time to find Patrick and Claire. He went to the side that sported the highest walls, which he hoped would be less guarded than the others, but he also knew the fort was like an anthill that had been stepped on, and they’d be on high alert, especially after the kidnappings. The moon disappeared behind a large bank of clouds, and he used an extended fuse to set the flare to go off on the damaged side of the base, which also happened to be opposite his target wall. He only hoped he had managed the timing correctly and crept back to his hiding place to wait.