That last bit was a little fabrication on Miss Duncan’s part. What the mayor had actually said was, “It’s nice that we can depend on the Negro to do their part.” His tone had been almost insulting.
If you ask me, neither the mayor nor any of these other folks were taking things seriously enough. For all the mayor knows, there’s some other professor bringing the dead into city limits to work experiments on them—who knows how long it will be until we’re back in the dark days of the War Against the Dead?
Regardless, it fell out that Katherine and I were saved the corporal punishment and instead assigned house duty for two weeks. Housework ain’t too bad, and I ain’t ashamed to say this ain’t my first time doing it. It was a standard punishment whenever a girl did wrong. Poor marks, laziness, a general bad attitude? Miss Preston was convinced that the best way to correct minor misconduct was a little drudgery, and housework was the pinnacle of drudge.
So Katherine and I spent our free time polishing silver, dusting bannisters, beating carpets, and a dozen other randomly assigned tasks. We got up early in the morning and dragged ourselves to the kitchen, eating cold porridge that the cook gave us with a scowl. Then we started our chores two hours before class, returning after dinner to help Cook scrub the day’s pots and pans before heading off to bed.
For three straight days, Katherine refused to speak a lick. Now, on the fourth day, though, she talks.
“Your friend is here.”
I don’t even look up. We’re on our hands and knees, scrubbing the marble floor in the rear of the main building. It’s one of Miss Preston’s favorite chores. Sometime before the school was taken over by Miss Preston’s, some poor soul was killed here, his lifeblood seeping into the stone. It would’ve been easier to take up the stained tiles, but marble is expensive and hard to come by. So instead we scrub, trying to erase the signs of some bastard’s last few breaths.
This is the fiftieth time I’ve been made to scrub this same patch of floor over the three or so years I’ve been at Miss Preston’s, so I know it well. The rust-colored stain ain’t coming out, but scrubbing ain’t the worst way to pass an afternoon. The foyer is cool thanks to the marble and the sounds of girls outside practicing their remedial drills drifts in through the open windows.
“Jane!”
“Hmm?”
Katherine nods toward one of the big windows. “Your friend, the ruffian, is here. And you know that’s against the rules.”
I look over, and climbing in through one of the open windows is Red Jack, looking fresh as a daisy in a yellow waistcoat. His bowler is new as well, and he presents a dapper image.
I straighten but don’t stand, kneeling with my hands on my hips. “What are you doing here?”
“You didn’t come by the barrelhouse on Sunday. You said you’d bring me some of that sugar.” He says it with a wink that makes it abundantly clear that he’s being unseemly.
“I forgot, Jackson. And I wasn’t bringing you anything but my blade.”
“Anyway, I heard about your escapade through the grapevine, so I figured that, as per the usual, Jane McKeene had found herself in a spot of trouble with her headmistress. Hello there,” Jackson says, tipping his hat to Katherine.
She scowls and climbs to her feet. “I’m going to go fetch Miss Anderson.”
I grab her skirts. “Not if you want to keep those pretty curls, you ain’t.”
Katherine’s eyes narrow. “Are you threatening me, Jane?”
“Naw. I don’t make threats.”
She looks from me to Jackson one last time before stomping out into the hallway.
I drop the scrub brush into my bucket and climb to my feet. “Now is not a good time, Jackson. Give me whatever it is you mentioned in Baltimore and get going.”
He shrugs. “Don’t much care. And I ain’t here about that. You owe me one, and I aim to collect.”
“Owe you? Since when am I owing you anything?”
“River Bend. Two months ago. I saved your life.”
“You nearly got me killed!” I shriek.
The echo of voices in the hallway filter toward us. At least two women, probably Katherine and Miss Anderson. Of course that high yellow Jezebel told on me. Girl would rat out Jesus to the Romans.
I sigh, grabbing Red Jack by his arm and dragging him back toward the window. “Listen here, Redbone, and listen well. This is not a good time. I don’t know what you think I owe you, or why, but we’ll settle it up later. You need to go. I get in trouble again and I’m either going to get the strap or expelled. I’m already on probation, and getting caught with you ain’t going to help my case.”
Red Jack pulls his arm from my grip and adjusts his hat. “Lily is missing,” he says, his voice low and choked.
That stoppers my rage. Lily is Jackson’s younger sister, sweet as sugar and as pretty as a summer day. There is no one Jackson cares about more than her.
“Well, she can’t have been gone long. I saw her the same day I saw you in Baltimore. She and Mrs. Spencer brought us lemonade.”
“Yep, they’re still letting her stay with them, God bless them. But they’ve all disappeared.”
“Maybe they went on a trip? Mrs. Spencer’s people are from Delaware. Mayhap they traveled up that way?”
“Can’t be. Laverne just had a babe two months past.”
Folks rarely just up and vanish like that. Unless . . . “Shamblers?” I ask, trying to be as delicate as I have the wherewithal to be.
He shakes his head. “No. There hasn’t been an attack reported in months. And I didn’t notice any blood when I went by there. I would’ve found some sign of them if it had been the dead. There’s just . . . nothing.”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “So you want me to look and see if I can find something you
