The giant puts me down. “What did you do?” he murmurs, a note ofwonder in his voice. “Where has the pain gone?”
I’m as surprised as he. My world’s turned helter-skelter withinthe asylum, and I have no idea what I’m capable of anymore. Mary Arden did tellme of evolving powers, how they grow with suffering. Perhaps that’s what ishappening now. I smile at Gabriel, bone tired, and then Titus blows hiswhistle, disrupting any further communication between us. The guards beginherding the inmates back to their wards. Anna arrives at my elbow and pulls meway.
“Don’t go near Lazarus again, Hester,” the old woman says.“Everyone’s afraid of him—the patients, staff, even Faust himself.”
Isabelle steps around to my other side. “You know why they callhim Lazarus, don’t you? It’s an old Ironwood myth.”
“No,” Anna interrupts testily. “I don’t care and neither shouldyou.”
“They say he’s been touched by God, Hester,” Izzie whispers. “Evendeath can’t hold him.”
I have no time to learn anything more from the women. Titusmakes his way through the crowd, takes my arm, and walks me back to the Pit,thoughts of archangels and miracles dancing in my head.
As I’d hoped, Hershel Watts takes the bribery bait like ahungry sturgeon. The night guard quickly seals the deal with me—his unknown,unnamed partner-in-crime—using a clumsy code of sorts.
Anna reads the message again. “I will take your sister to thedance, as you suggested. Plan on it.”
Watts isn’t exactly a sonneteer, but his words stick with one.Especially the last three—plan on it. I’ve been singing them in my head for atleast five minutes to the tune of Jingle Bells.
Anna folds the paper and stuffs it into her pocket forsafekeeping. We are in the laundry room today, surrounded by steam and soapflakes, using our dolly sticks to beat tub after tub of soiled linen.
“A wagon goes into Ironwood City once a week,” Anna sayssoftly, working her dolly stick. “We could hide in the back. Escape that way.”
I smile at her, adrift in my own dreams of leaving the asylum,until I hear a familiar voice arguing with Dr. Faust upstairs.
O di immortales. Noah Kelly has come to Ironwood!
Relief surges through me, and I give Anna a hug, despite herprotests. The smile fades from my lips when I recognize an odiferous blend ofstale onions and unwashed hair, coming from the person walking through thelaundry room door.
Roy’s back.
24
Aut viam inveniam aut faciam.
I will either find a way or make one.
Annalets out a cry of alarm when Roy takes the dolly stick from my hand and pullsme toward the door. “She has a visitor,” he says. “I’m to bring her up.”
When we reach the top of the second flight of stairs, Roy shovesme into a strange room. It smells musty and unused, forgotten for generations.I fall to the floor and dirt rises in the air, coating my skin.
“I’ve thought about this for weeks!”
I actually haven’t. I guess my schedule has been busier thanhis.
Roy brags of the vile things that he intends for me. I do notsmell lust on him, but rather fear and anger. Roy’s working himself up toperform, requiring verbal reassurance of his potency to fulfill his dreadfulpromises. Look skeptical, Hester! Keep him talking. My brain hurtles ahead,whirring through the information I have on this man from the moment I becameaware of his existence.
Ah, here’s something I can use.
During our journey to Ironwood, Roy told Titus that he fearedhis next birthday. The fifth of June. He’s superstitious, worried he’ll die atthirty-nine years of age, just as his father and two uncles did.
Roy’s voice grows louder and more confident with eachdescription of degradation and abuse. “And I won’t stop. Not until I’ve had myfill… ” He’s almost ready to attack.
I quickly choose a course of action. My eyes have an iridescentquality that disturb some people. Cordelia’s told me more than once that they remindher of a cat at night, the pupils reflecting light in the darkness. Lifting myface, I use my strange appearance to my advantage and gaze at Roy, as though Iam a seer with a deadly premonition.
“Afraid?” he asks with some pride. “You should be. I said I’dkill you after—”
Eyes wide, I go rigid and pretend to be in a trance. I crawltoward Roy and write in the dust on the floor. I’m counting on his irrationalfear and innate stupidity at this point. Which he exhibits on the grandest ofscales.
“What’s that you’ve written?” Roy asks, leaning over me. “Why,it’s the number thirty-nine.”
His physical proximity unleashes a rage so thick I could chokeon it. Unfettered, white-hot. Who is this reprobate? That he can prey upon theweak? Violate the innocent? The heat grows until I fear my very flesh will beconsumed.
Vindicta.
Vengeance.
I feel my face glowing, energy burning beneath my skin. Icontinue to write the number thirty-nine. In fact, I cannot stop. My hand fliesin a frenzy, going faster and faster until I nearly collapse. Then I crawl toRoy’s feet and spell DEATH upon the floor in slashing letters. He stumblesback, landing hard on the wood. The pounding of his heart fills my head, and Isavor the perfume of his fear. Rising to my feet, I tower over Roy as he lieson the floor. I lift my right hand, fingers dividing into the shape of a V—thesymbol of a curse or blessing.
“Stop it,” Roy whimpers. “Put your hand down!”
Listening to the tattoo of his heart, I bore into him with mygaze and my body grows light. I raise my fingers higher, drawing the V acrossmy throat. Truth makes my bones tremble, and I know Roy will not die on thefifth day
