Red Dog Conspiracy Sets

Chapter 12

The Horror

Frantic voices. Angry words which made no sense. Sobbing. Screams. Laughter.

But instead of the woman from the hotel — Mrs. Clubb? — this was a deep, rich laugh from a large man.

At Clubb Hotel, I’d feared I was mad. Now I knew I was.

He laughed in triumph as I flew through a storm-cloud, thunderbolts crashing around me. And I knew — I just knew — that he didn’t just mock me. He pursued me!

I could hardly breathe for fear of the man pursuing. He laughed as he chased me through the green-gray storm, a massive wall approaching to cut me with knives of silver.

But I flew too fast, too high, and I began to fall from a terrible height. And the laughter came closer … and closer … behind …!

A strange room, my heart pounding in a shaking sweat. The room golden, hot, the sound of fire blazing from behind. Flames shot forward from each side.

Someone terrible was after me.

Yet I couldn’t move. I couldn’t move!

Jack Diamond, head shaved and dressed all in white, emerged into the fiery light. Something glinted in his hand.

I stared at Jack in horror. I’d left the window open. Somehow he’d gotten in my room, taken me here!

But how? Where was I? What would he do to me?

He moved forward. “Oh, good, you’re awake.”

Terrified as I’d never been, I screamed, pushing myself into the cushions behind me.

Jack’s face filled with alarm. “Oh, gods.”

But it wasn’t Jack’s deep, deep voice. “Jacqui, it’s me.” He didn’t sound like Jack Diamond at all.

Jack pulled the skin off of his head, and the coiled black hair underneath was thick and wild.

I stared, aghast. How did Jack pull the skin off of his head?

Two old people tottered in. Jack said, “Turn on the lights.”

A dark-skinned man with black hair wore a khaki shirt and pants. He held a dark brown finely-knitted hat in one hand and a water glass in the other. He put the glass on the side table and sat on the bed beside me. “Jacqui, it’s me. It’s just me. You’re safe.” He clasped my hand. “I will never let anyone harm you.”

I clutched his hand, sobbing in relief. “Jon? Oh, Jon, I was so frightened. I thought you were Jack here to kill me.”

Jonathan Diamond sat holding my hands, face sad.

Suddenly, I realized how deeply this must hurt him. “I’m sorry. But I … I couldn’t move, and —”

He gave a dejected smile. “And I look like him.”

“Yes. Well, no, not now that I see you properly … you look like you. Why can’t I move?”

Trees rustled behind me outside. The breeze floated the sheer white curtains beside me. Shadows lengthened in the setting sun.

“You’re tied to the bed. But now you’ve returned to us,” Jon’s eyes reddened, his hand tightening on mine, “maybe now we can untie you.” He and the old woman beside him removed the sheets which bound me to the narrow bed. Then he sat beside me again.

I smiled at Jon, feeling safe, content. Then I felt confused. “Where am I?”

“You’re in a cottage in the Spadros countryside. The doctor will be glad to hear you’ve awakened.”

“What happened?”

An instant of grief crossed his face. “I found you on the floor.” He seemed haunted by the memory. “Amelia had left you alone. When she returned, she cleaned you up. I brought you here to get well.” He spoke as if leaving out a great deal.

I’d sent Amelia to fetch bourbon … or was her daughter ill?

I tried to sit up and the room turned gray. Jonathan stood over me. “Don’t try to rise, my love, please, just rest.” His hand felt cool on my forehead, and I closed my eyes.

I dreamed Jonathan wept. I drank watery alcohol. I dreamed Tony said, “I love you,” and fear gripped me. Would he make me go back? Jon kissed my hand: I felt safe, content.

I opened my eyes and it was dark.

I lay propped up, with pillows behind me. Jon sat asleep in a chair beside me. He had different clothes on.

What day was it?

Jon came awake with a start and grasped my hand, eyes bloodshot and alarmed. “What is it? Are you well?”

“I think so, but I haven’t tried to move since that last time.”

Jon smiled to himself. “We’ve had difficulty keeping you in bed.” He checked his pocket-watch. “Time for your draught.” He went to the dresser, opening a notebook. He lit a small lamp. I saw him pour water from a pitcher, then heard him pour again, then count under his breath. He poured liquid once more, then brought me a glass of something darkly opaque. “Drink it down.”

It tasted like almost completely watered-down bourbon mixed with herbs. It was fairly disgusting, but I drank it all, handing the glass back to him. “What’s this about?”

He sat the glass on the nightstand. “You poisoned yourself with bourbon. The only way to bring you back to health without causing epileptic fits is to wean you off alcohol altogether. It’ll take another week or so. But you must never drink again. Another poisoning would surely kill you.”

Never drink again. I didn’t know what to say. Of course, I’d often considered cutting back some, but ….

Never drink again.He sat beside me. “It will be the most difficult task you’ve had to face, but you’re stronger than you think.” Jon’s face was resolute. “I’ll help you, for as long as I can.”

Grief flooded over me. What do I have to live for?

What do I have to live for?For a long time I couldn’t speak for sobbing, then I turned away. “Why bother?” What I’d done to Tony. My little bird. Everyone. “I don’t deserve to live.”

I felt Jon’s hand warm on my shoulder. “You do deserve to live! You have a husband who loves you, Jacqui. Even now. You have … a maid who awaits your return. You have … friends who care about you.” He took a deep breath. “Who love you.”

Most of my friends are dead. Or have betrayed me.

But then I remembered what Mrs. Clubb said, about how I was wrong to say I had no friends and no future.

I didn’t wish to believe it.

Yet here Jonathan sat. The doctor visited. These servants must have cared for me. “I’m sorry to be so much trouble.”

Jon patted my shoulder, and I could tell from his voice that he smiled. “You would have to do much, much worse to cause me trouble.” I heard him take a deep breath; his voice trembled. “I would do anything for you, Jacqui. Anything. Even unto death.”

I closed my eyes and cried as he smoothed my hair.

When I awoke, I was no longer tied.

Tony stood in the doorway, deep sadness in his eyes. Then he knelt beside my bed near where my hips lay and took my hand.

I bit my lip, trying not to cry. What could I possibly say to him?

His bandage was gone; a red scar lay on his right cheek. “I’ve had a long time to think about what you wrote —”

Oh, gods, I thought. The letters —

“— and what I wanted to say —“ he hesitated, tightened his grasp on my hand, gazed down at it, “— is that even though your vows to me were forced, mine to you never were. I’ve been angry. I’ve said things I regret. But even though perhaps we can’t live together — now — I never wanted you to die!” He brought my hand to his lips, then to his unhurt cheek, and it reminded me of Pip that day in the garden. “My father told me once that to take your life is a grave error, because whether your cards are good or bad, it’s your duty to play them to the end. If your life is bad, you only give them to some innocent to endure in your stead.”

dieWhy would Tony mention suicide? “Ten told me everything. I don’t want you to die for trying to please me!”

He said nothing, yet his grip on my hand tightened.

I couldn’t let myself feel for this man. Too much had happened. “I’ve said things I regret as well.”

He gazed into my eyes. “I don’t want you to suffer, Jacqui. I’ve only ever wanted you to be happy.” But he said it as if he despaired of ever being so himself.

I couldn’t let myself pity him, or I might agree to go back.

Tony sounded lost. “Were you never happy?”

neverI shrugged, not meeting his eye. Telling him how much torment I’d been in all these years would crush him. Relating a happy moment would only give him false hope.

“I need you, Jacqui. I need you. I can’t do this without you.”

“Do what?”

“Find this Red Dog g**g. Regain control of our quadrant. Show my men I’m capable of leading them!” He rested his forehead on the bed’s edge, gripping my hand as if drowning. “I dread the man who directs this horror! I hear the ticking of his merciless mind, feel the rumbling of his terrible machine of war. Like fog, he covers everything, lies behind every window, yet offers no place to hide. His only wish is to crush us!” He raised his head, rested his other arm on the bed. His eyes pleaded with me. “Please come home! I can’t protect you otherwise. I need you to be safe. I’d die if they harmed you.”

needI turned my face away, and he released my hand. It pounded, tingled, ached. I focused on the sensations for a long time, examining their pain in every detail.

They were important.

They were a reminder.

Tony thought he loved me, but his fierce grasp on my life hurt.