Tess Gerritsen - The Bone Garden - A Novel

With head held high, he walked out of the Mermaid, stumbling over the threshold as he stepped out the door. She followed him outside, into a mist so penetrating, the dampness seemed to seep straight into her bones. They'd walked only a dozen paces when Eben abruptly turned around to face her.

His blow sent her reeling backward. She staggered against a building, her cheek throbbing, the pain so terrible that for a few seconds the world went black. She did not even see the second blow coming. It whipped her sideways and she fell to her knees, felt icy water soaking into her skirt.

— That's for talking back to me in public, — he snarled. He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her across the cobblestones, into the mud of a narrow alley.

Another blow slammed into her mouth and she tasted blood.

— And that's for the four months I've had to put up with you. Always taking her side, always lined up against me, the two of you. My prospects ruined, all because she got herself knocked up. You think she didn't beg me for it? You think I had to seduce her? Oh, no, your saintly sister wanted it. She wasn't afraid to show me what she had. But it was spoiled goods. —

He wrenched her to her feet and shoved her up against a wall.

— So don't play the innocent with me. I know what kind of trash runs in your family. I know what you want. The same thing your sister wanted. —

He rammed up against her, pinning her against the bricks. His mouth closed over hers, his breath sour with rum. The blows had left her so dazed she could not summon the strength to push him away. She felt the hardening against her pelvis, felt his hand groping at her breasts. He yanked up her skirt and clawed at her petticoat, her stockings, tearing through fabric to reach naked flesh. At the touch of his hand on her bare thigh, her spine snapped taut.

How dare you!

Her fist caught him beneath the chin, and she felt his jaw slam shut, heard teeth smack together. He screamed and staggered backward, his hand clapped to his mouth.

— My tongue! I've bit my tongue! — He looked down at his hand. — Oh, God, I'm bleeding! —

She ran. She darted out of the alley, but he lunged after her and grabbed a handful of her hair, scattering pins across the stones. She twisted away and stumbled over her torn petticoat. The thought of his hand on her thigh, his breath on her face, sent her scrambling back to her feet. Hiking her skirt above her knees, she bolted headlong into the disorienting mist. She did not know which street she was on, or in which direction she was headed. The river? The harbor? All she knew was that the fog was her cloak, her friend, and the deeper she plunged into it, the safer she would be. He was too drunk to keep up, much less navigate the maze of narrow streets. Already his footsteps seemed more distant, his curses fading, until all she could hear was the pounding of her own feet, her own pulse.

She rounded a corner and came to a halt. Through the rush of her own breathing, she heard the clattering wheels of a passing carriage, but no footsteps. She realized she was on the Cambridge road, and that she'd have to double back to return to the hospital.

Eben would expect her to go there. He'd be waiting for her.

She leaned down and ripped away the entangling strip of petticoat. Then she started walking north, staying to the side streets and alleys, pausing every few paces to listen for footsteps. The fog was so thick, she could see only the outline of a wagon passing on the road; the clop of horse's hooves seemed to come from all directions at once, the echoes fractured and scattered in the mist. She fell in step behind the wagon, trotting after it as it moved up Blossom Street, in the direction of the hospital. If Eben attacked, she would scream her lungs out. Surely the wagon's driver would stop and come to her aid.

Suddenly the wagon turned right, away from the hospital, and Rose was left standing alone. She knew the hospital was straight ahead of her, on North Allen, but she could not yet see it through the fog. Eben was almost certainly waiting to pounce. Staring up the street, she could sense the threat that loomed ahead, could picture Eben hulking in the shadows, anticipating her arrival.

She turned. There was another way into the building, but she would have to trudge across the damp grass of the hospital common to the rear entrance. She paused at the edge of the lawn. Her route was obscured by fog, but she could just make out, through fingers of mist, the glow of hospital windows. He would not expect her to hike across this dark field. Certainly he himself would not go to such an effort if it meant soiling his shoes in the mud.

She waded into the grass. The field was saturated with rain, and icy water soaked through her shoes. The lights from the hospital intermittently faded out in the mist and she had to stop to regain her bearings. There they were again— off to the left. In the darkness, she had veered away from her goal, and now she corrected course. The lights glowed brighter now, the fog thinning as she climbed the gentle slope toward the building. Her sodden skirts clung to her legs, slowing her down, making every stride an effort. By the time she stumbled out of the grass, onto cobblestones, she was clumsy on cold-numbed feet.

Chilled and shivering now, she started up the back stairway.

Suddenly her shoe slid across a step slick with something black. She stared up at what looked like a dark waterfall that had cascaded down the stairs. Only as her gaze lifted to the source of that waterfall did she see the woman's body draped across the stairs above, her skirts splayed, one arm flung out, as though to welcome Death.

At first Rose heard only the drumming of her own heart, the rush of her own breath. Then she heard the footstep, and a shadow moved above her like an ominous cloud blotting out the moon. The blood seemed to freeze in Rose's veins. She looked at the looming creature.

What she saw was the Grim Reaper himself.

Her voice mute and choked with terror, she stumbled backward and almost fell as she hit the bottom step. Suddenly the creature swooped toward her, black cape billowing like monstrous wings. She whirled to flee, and saw empty lawn ahead, roiling with mist. A place of execution. If I run there, I will surely die.

She pivoted to the right and sprinted alongside the building. She could hear the monster in pursuit, its footsteps closing in behind her.

She darted into a passage and found herself in a courtyard. She ran to the nearest door, but it was locked. Pounding on it, she shrieked for help, but no one opened it.

I am trapped.

Behind her, gravel clattered across the stones. She spun around to face her attacker. In the darkness she could make out only the movement of black on black. She backed up against the door, her breaths coming out in sobs. She thought of the dead woman, and the waterfall of blood on the stairs, and she crossed her arms over her chest in a feeble shield to protect her heart.

The shadow closed in.

Cringing, she turned her face in anticipation of the first slash. Instead she heard a voice, asking a question that she did not immediately register.

— Miss? Miss, are you all right? —

She opened her eyes to see the silhouette of a man. Behind him, through the darkness, a light winked and slowly became brighter. It was a lantern, swaying in the grasp of a second man, now approaching. The man with the lantern called: — Who's out here? Hello? —

— Wendell! Over here! —

— Norris? What's all the commotion? —

— There's a young woman here. She seems to be hurt. —

— What's the matter with her? —

The lantern swung closer, and the light dazzled Rose's eyes. She blinked and focused on the faces of the two young men who were now staring at her. She recognized them both, just as they recognized her.