Part 2 (1/2)
Suddenly she was inhabiting a man's body, with such wonderful strength in her arms, and in her deliciously thrusting hips... then it was the rus.h.i.+ng thrill of another girl's greedy tongue between her legs... her hands caught the girl's head and raised her up, a smiling kiss and she tasted herself... one after another the visions flowed together-Miss Temple's face flushed as red as if her fever had returned-until another kiss, another liquid tongue, became-she realized quite abruptly with horror-the Contessa di Lacquer-Sforza dragging her tongue across Miss Temple's eye with a knowing, angry, sensuous sneer. Miss Temple gasped aloud. That incident had really taken place, in Harschmort House. What did it mean that Miss Temple's true memories could be entwined so seamlessly with what she remembered from the book, as if such distinction was a boundary for the weak, or no real boundary at all? If she could not keep her own life apart from what she had consumed from the lives of others, how could she retain who she was? She sat up at once.
”Celeste?” asked Eloise. ”Are you all right? Are you too cold?”
”I am fine,” said Miss Temple. She dabbed a pearling of sweat from her upper lip. ”Perhaps there is something to eat?”
LINA HAD packed cold mutton, hard cheese, and some loaves of country bread. Miss Temple unhappily chewed a mouthful of meat while gazing about her. The woods had continued to deepen.
”Where exactly are we?” she asked Eloise.
”Heading south. Beyond that I cannot say-past the forest there are apparently hills. On the other side of them we may have hope of a train.”
”The road seems perfectly fine,” Miss Temple observed.
”It does.”
Miss Temple watched Eloise closely until the woman met her gaze. Miss Temple made a point of speaking loudly.
”This forest... is this where the people were killed?”
”I've no idea,” said Eloise.
”I would think it must be.”
”It is entirely possible.”
”Did you not go there?”
”Of course not, Celeste. The clothing was brought to me-Lina knew what we needed.”
”So no one has seen the Jorgenses' cabin?”
”Of course people have seen it-the villagers who found them-”
”But that is not the same at all,” cried Miss Temple. She called to the driver in her firmest voice. ”Sir, we will require you to take us to the cabin of Mr. and Mrs. Jorgens. It is most urgent.”
The man pulled his horse to a stop and turned. He glanced once at Miss Temple but then settled on Eloise as the person in charge. Miss Temple sighed and spoke in the most patient tone she could muster.
”It is necessary we visit the cabin of Mr. and Mrs. Jorgens. As you can see, I am wearing the poor woman's dress. It is inc.u.mbent upon me-for religious reasons, you understand-to pay my respects to her memory. If I do not, it is impossible that I shall sleep soundly ever again.”
The man looked again at Eloise. Then he turned and snapped the reins.
Miss Temple took another bite of mutton, for she was extremely hungry still.
IT WAS perhaps twenty more minutes until he stopped the cart and pointed to their left. Through the trees Miss Temple saw a winding path washed away in more than one spot, like a penciled line incompletely marred by the jagged pa.s.s of a gum eraser. She scrambled from the cart without a.s.sistance and then gave a hand to Eloise, whose expression was far from her own excitement.
”We will not be long,” Eloise called to their driver. ”It is just...just along that path?”
He nodded-Miss Temple wondered if the man possessed a tongue-and pointed. Miss Temple took her companion's hand and pulled her away.
The washed-out sections were moist and required careful steps to avoid thick mud, but in minutes they were out of sight of the cart, no matter how Eloise kept glancing back.
”He will not leave us,” Miss Temple finally said.
”I'm glad you think so,” answered Eloise.
”Of course he won't. He has not been fully paid.”
”But he has.”
”You think he has, but he surely plans to charge us that much more again once we are stranded with him in the hills.”
”How do you know that?”
”Because I am used to people wanting money-it is the dullest of things. But now we can speak-and look, Eloise, there it is!”
THE CABIN was small, and nestled comfortably between the trees on one side and a lush meadow. All around them Miss Temple could see the flotsam left from the flooding rain and its recession. The air was tinged with a certain whiff of corruption, of river mud churned and spread like a stinking condiment amidst the gra.s.ses and the trees.
”I'm sure I don't know what you hope to find,” said Eloise.
”I do not either,” replied Miss Temple, ”but I do know I have never seen a wolf in a boat. And now we can speak freely-I mean, honestly, wolves!”
”I do not know what you would like me to say.”
Miss Temple snorted. ”Eloise, are our enemies dead or not?”
”I have told you. I believe they are dead.”
”Then who has done this killing?”
”I do not know. The Doctor and Chang-”
”Where are they? Truthfully now, why did they leave?”
”I have been truthful, Celeste.”
Miss Temple stared at her. Eloise said nothing. Miss Temple wavered between dismay, mistrust, and condescension. As this last came most easily to her nature, she allowed herself an inner sneer.
”Still, as we are here, it seems perfectly irresponsible not to investigate.”
Eloise pursed her lips together, and then gestured about them at the ground.
”You see the many bootprints-the village people collecting the bodies. There is no hope of finding the sign of an animal's paw, nor of disproving any such signs were here.”
”I agree completely,” said Miss Temple, but then she stopped, c.o.c.king her head. To the side of the cabin steps, pressed into the soft earth was the print of a horse's shoe-as if the horse had been tethered near the door. Miss Temple leaned closer, but found no more. What she did find, on the steps themselves, was one muddy bootprint followed by a thin trailing line.
”What is that?” she asked Eloise.
Eloise frowned. ”It is a horseman's spur.”
FOR ALL her bravado, Miss Temple found herself taking a deep breath when she opened the cabin door-slowly and with as little sound as possible, and wis.h.i.+ng she'd some kind of weapon. The interior was as simple as the outside promised-one room with a cold stove, a table and workbench, and a bed-plain and small, yet large enough to hold a marriage. Beyond the bed was an achingly little cot, and beyond this Miss Temple saw the trunk where her dress had undoubtedly been kept. She felt Eloise behind her, and the two stepped fully into the room, amidst the trappings of dead lives.