Bride of the Night

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FINN WAS CONCERNED. No one had slept until daybreak, which meant the day was well on by the time they'd all awakened. He chafed to get going, but MacKay had told him that the captain was asking for him, and that it was important that they talked.

Captain Tremblay's wound was causing him a great deal of trouble. Before he could set the course for the day, Finn knelt with Dr. MacKay by the captain's side, and felt the feverish touch of his skin. Dr. MacKay cooled his forehead with a cold cloth, and redressed the wound, Tara assisting from across the captain's prone body.

Tremblay seemed to be caught in his own dreamworld, created, perhaps, by the fever. Beneath closed lids, his eyes made darting motions.

Then suddenly, the captain opened his eyes wide and stared straight at Finn. “You will watch out for my men, sir. You will watch out for my men!”

“Aye, Captain. But you're not going to die. You're going to get well,” Finn assured him.

With an amazing strength, he suddenly gripped Finn's arm. “You will not let me become one like them. You will not let it happen. Swear to me. Swear!”

Tara stroked a hand on his cheek. “You're not going to die, Captain. You can fight this.”

“I am an old man,” Tremblay said. “I feel my strength slipping far away. I do not fear death. I fear what I saw last night.”

“You will never become one of them, Captain!” Tara assured him.

Finn watched her, noting the way she looked at the captain. She'd been his captive; his ship had been the one to run Richard's pride to a blazing death in fire and water. But Tremblay had treated her with courtesy, and she seemed to have acquired an honest affection for him. She looked at the captain now with tenderness, and her fingers touched upon the man's face with the brush of a feather.

She loved Richard, of course. That was so easy to see. And yet, the two did behave more as siblings than as…as lovers. It was, Finn had to admit, irritating to realize that he'd felt…yes, jealousy, regarding the man. Tara Fox was not easy to slip into a compartment in his mind. Possible spy, assassin. Not to be thought of as a woman.

Any creature, alive or dead, he mused, would find her appealing. Even that one creature last night, accustomed to seizing what women he chose-and murdering those who displeased him, bored him or were simply there when his hunger peaked-had known that she was different. She walked with pride and beauty; her eyes flashed with her passions, and though she knew fear, she knew as well to fight around it.

Finn found himself entranced, watching her, and suddenly wondering what it would be like when her eyes filled with tenderness and passion as she looked into the eyes of a lover. Though he'd been at war so long-his one guiding function to keep the president alive-he had thought about little else lately. There had been women; perhaps his very mix of blood made him attractive to the opposite sex, but he hadn't felt this strange torment of sexual longing that twisted at and tore into his emotions, as well.

He quickly drew his gaze from her and focused on the captain. There was no need to dwell on the future when they still had to persevere here. But if they did survive this…

Then what? She was his captive; she would be brought to trial-if they lived. He admired Richard, but Finn now found himself praying that neither he nor Tara was the Gator. But if not, then how had his information been so accurate, and how had Richard's Peace been setting to sea-an armed blockade runner!-when it had?

They were all captured here in a struggle now for life or death; if they didn't get ahead of the diseased they'd all perish; this was definitely a take-no-captives situation. Questions of national allegiance would all be moot.

“Captain, I will leave you in the hands of our good doctor MacKay, and I will see to it that the ship out on the water is made safe. She will take us far from these waters, and we'll send a warning for those in the islands to take care. You will be fine. I will give orders and guidance to your men as if they were my own, and we will all fight our hardest to prevail.”

Tremblay turned to look at Tara. “If I…succumb, you will do me the honor of death! Promise me that you will see to it that I don't flounder in a prison of death and destruction, that I may die in God's good graces, and stand before Him in heaven?”

“Dr. MacKay won't let you die,” Tara said.

“Promise me!”

“We all vow such. But as you are an excellent officer of the Union, sir, we need you. We won't let you die,” Finn said. Then he stood; it was time to get out to the ship.

He started walking toward the line of Union longboats. Tara came running behind him. “I'm going with you,” she told him.

“You can't,” he said, looking around at the campsite. This morning, every man seemed to be at work cleaning a rifle or honing a sword.

“I can be helpful,” she said. “If someone does get at me, it won't matter. I am what I am-they can't turn me into anything.”

“I want to take a party of six-two top deck all the while, and four to flush out the ship. What reason would I give to these men to take a lady aboard on such a mission? She is a monster? Please don't decapitate her because she's a different kind of monster?”

“But you're a monster,” she reminded him.

“A masculine monster, Tara. And I'm afraid that matters among these men.”

“But that's foolish.” She pleaded, “There must be a way…?. Please, you need to let me come. I can really help you-and you know that.”

He looked at her, down into her eyes. He felt the sensation streak through him again that he wanted more of her.

That meant he should turn away, turn his wall into a brick wall.

Except that she was right. She had fought exceptionally well the night before.

“All right. Inform Richard. I'll leave MacKay to watch over the captain. We'll be three, then. I'll bring three more with me. Find Richard while I decide who is most able-and least wounded,” Finn told her.

She nodded solemnly, and turned to do as he had bidden.

Finn looked around the camp. He thought about the second body they had found on the island last night. It was plausible that a tide had carried the body up to the mangroves. It was harder to construe how one might have wound up inland.

He'd seen the men as they'd worked, sailing the Union ship. He'd seen them all pitch together, setting up camp on the island. It was possible, though difficult to believe, that one of them was a traitor-or worse, a minion for a monster.

He looked after Tara, and then stared down at Captain Tremblay and Dr. MacKay. McKay rose, grim.

“You think that he was infected?” the doctor asked him quietly.

“I don't know. You'll have to watch over him, and the camp. But I doubt if anything will happen during the daylight hours. Someone got onto that rescue ship who shouldn't have been on it, or there has been someone among us all the while,” Finn said. “Keep a sharp eye out while we're securing the ship. We'll bring her in and anchor her as swiftly as we can, and hopefully, be out of here by tomorrow.”

“Any words of wisdom for me?” MacKay asked.

“Keep your sword at your side. Don't hesitate. Perhaps get a few of the men remaining to sharpen pine branches strong enough to pierce through muscle and sinew. And watch the captain.”

The man nodded. “Godspeed, then. I will do my best here.”

Leaving the doctor, Finn found Richard and Tara waiting at the longboats. Richard had a rifle over his shoulder, a sword in a scabbard. Tara had found a belt and sheath that would fit her, and she was ready, too.

Charles Lafferty was with them, his shoulder still bandaged, but he had a grim look on his face.

“Agent Dunne, I'm begging you, give me the chance to accompany you, sir! I've learned what we're up against, and I'm ready for the fight.”

Lafferty was a big man, and Finn had seen him wield a sword.

“Your arm is wounded.”

“My left arm, sir. I can fight with my right, and do so well, I swear.”

Finn nodded. “Lafferty, fine. You're in. You'll guard topside while we search below.” He looked over the men who waited, some seeming as if they would like to be called. Others had the look of soldiers who would do their duty, but did not relish an actual confrontation.

“London, Grissom-are you up for the journey?” Finn asked. London was as solid as a steel drum. Grissom was not a big man, but Finn had seen the way he could move.

“Aye, sir,” London assured him quickly.

“Aye,” Grissom said more gravely.

Finn looked back at the camp. MacKay's arms were folded over his chest; he wasn't leaving his position by the captain.

“Then we're on our way. When the ship is secured, I'll send out a flare. Billy!” he called, searching the ranks for the seaman.

“Aye, sir!” Billy said, waving from the rear of the tent, near the fire.

“Someone on guard at all times. The good doctor MacKay is in command if the captain is incapacitated.”

“Begging your pardon, sir,” Grissom said.

“Yes?”

“The lady is coming with us? On such a mission-“

“I cannot leave her here, Grissom. Shall we go?”

He didn't wait for argument from the men but headed straight into the boat. The others moved in. Tara took a seat in the rear; Richard sat center, and picked up an oar. Grissom sat next to him, looked at him a moment and then picked up the other oar. Finn and Lafferty picked up the second set while London was near the rear.

When they reached the abandoned ship, Richard rose carefully. “I can nab that iron rod with a lasso,” he suggested.

Finn knew he could leap the distance, and Tara most probably could as well, but it wouldn't do at the moment. “Aye, Richard.”

“If this don't beat all,” London said, grinning. “It's us and the Rebs today. Well, in my book, that sure beats fighting, for once!”

Richard was good, hitting his mark on the second try.

“I'll take it up first,” Finn said.

He looped his arm around the rope and tested it; the hold was secure. He began his climb, careful as he reached the deck. Looking around, he saw no one at first, and then a body lying over the helm. He walked over to it quickly, jerking the man back.

This fellow had not been ravaged. Whoever had attacked the ship had been stealthy, had taken out the helmsman first. No blood hunger had caused this kill; the man's throat had been slashed, probably from the rear, a quick slice from the left ear to the right. Blood pooled over the wheel, and down to the deck.

Leaving the corpse, he came back to the rail and looked down; Richard was on his way up. Finn reached down to assist. When he cleared the deck, Tara began her assent. She was quick and nimble, even encumbered with the sword. As she neared the rail, he and Richard crashed into each other in their attempt to help her over.

Richard gave way. Finn slipped his arms around Tara's shoulders, hiking her over and setting her down. He felt the brush of her body, and felt the reaction of his own. He stepped back quickly. “Lafferty, come on, we can give you leverage from here!”

London was the last up. When they were assembled on deck, they looked at the dead man at the helm.

“I know this ship, sir. I've sailed on her,” London told him.

“How many decks?”

“Captain's cabin there, sir. One below, two officers' quarters portside and bunks starboard, and storage for food and supplies. Three below, you've got the cannon ports, and below that, ballast and more storage.”

“There's no splitting up. No one goes anywhere alone. Richard, you and Lafferty topside. The rest of us will begin a sweep. Take the captain's quarters first, and dispatch anyone you find,” Finn instructed.

Richard and Lafferty headed for the captain's quarters. While they made their way to the steps leading below, Finn watched the two. They worked well in tandem. Richard held back, ready with his sword. Lafferty kicked the door in.

“Dead captain!” Lafferty called.

“See to him,” Finn said. “Head off, body in the water.”

“Aye!” Lafferty replied.

Finn led the way down. The ship was laid out exactly as described. He paused, listening. There was nothing but the sound of the waves against the ship, and the movement of the two men overhead.

He motioned to London and Grissom, who began a thorough search through the trunks and barrels of salt, rum, dried beef and other food supplies. Walking ahead, he knew that Tara followed him. He paused as they came to the seamen's bunks. Blankets covered them. They glanced at one another, and started searching through the bunks.

“One here,” Tara called, her voice tight.

He hurried over. A man lay in the bunk. His eyes were closed, his face unmolested. His torso was ripped from throat to groin. All that remained was a bloody mass.

Tara turned away. The body was so destroyed that Finn didn't think the man could make a return. Nonetheless, he drew his knife and decapitated the man. As he did so, he heard movement, and Tara let out a startled cry.

He turned; a man had burst out from the first of the small officers' quarters; his eyes were blazing. Blood spattered his white shirt, but he showed no signs of injury. He was almost upon Tara. Finn spun with his knife ready, but his effort wasn't needed. Tara cried out again, both hands on the hilt of her sword as she brought it swinging high with true aim. She caught him dead in the neck and with such energy and power that the head went flying. For what seemed like a long moment the body stood, then fell at their feet.

Grissom and London came rushing over. London stared at the body, and then at the head, and then at Tara. “I will serve with you anytime, Miss Fox…”

“Take care. There may be more,” Finn warned. He motioned to Tara, and they moved forward to look into the second officers' quarters. The man there was just beginning to rise. Finn strode over to him quickly.

The man's eyes had bulged open. He looked at Finn and started to jerk up, a cry of rage emitting from him, fangs all but bursting from his lips. Finn skewered him in the heart with his sword, withdrew the blade, stood back and slashed off the head. It rolled off the cot and onto the floor. There wasn't much blood-just the head, with eyes open, staring. Finn thought wearily that he had seen this sight too many times.

He turned. Tara was standing in the doorway, watching. There was both horror and pity in her eyes. “Is there never any hope?” she asked.

“Sometimes, if it's stopped,” he told her briefly. He wanted to walk to her, hold her and shield her from the sight. It was what men did for women. But he could not; in truth, they were still enemies.

And she would not want comfort from him.

“You're done, you bloody bastard!” they heard from the corridor.

Hurrying from the second of the officers' quarters, they discovered that Grissom had found a man returning with thirst, and dispatched him-it appeared he had taken several blows with his sword to do so.

“How many more, do you think?” London asked, leaning hard by one of the swinging hammocks that made cots for the seamen.

“Not many-there can't be,” Grissom said. “This ship wouldn't have had more than twenty or twenty-two men aboard. We killed twelve last night.”

Twelve, two found dead on the island and four on the ship.

“Then we still have to account for more men,” Finn said.

“There shouldn't have been anyone down at the cannons-the ship wasn't attacking,” London said. “Or…maybe it was… Someone had to get aboard with the disease to do this.”

“We'll finish here, and head down again. God knows, maybe someone ran down to the ballast hold,” Finn said.

He led the way as they headed down again. Among the heavy cargo, including bricks, salt, sugar, rum and gunpowder, they found two more men.

There was little need to do much. They had been ripped to shreds, and their throats had been so violated the heads were hanging on by a string. Finn ordered Grissom and London to deal with the bodies; he told Tara that they needed to head topside.

Richard, he reasoned, would be the best man to lead the wounded ship closer to the island where they could anchor, and make repairs in the morning.

He could have dealt with the bodies himself; despite her adeptness when dealing with the frenzied creatures as they came back to life, Finn couldn't help but want to protect Tara from the horror of such gruesome things.

He ushered her topside where Richard Anderson was keeping watch with Charles Lafferty. “Can you navigate her closer, Richard, and avoid the reefs?” he asked.

“That I can,” Richard assured him. “The mains mast is cracked at the top, but we can unfurl the mizzenmast and bring up the main sail as much as possible. She's a steamer, too, if someone can fire her up.”

“I'll get the steam going. Are we safe now?” Lafferty asked Finn.

“Aye. We're set to go. Grissom and London will see to it.”

As he spoke, the men came up the steps to the deck, carrying grisly cargo. Again, Finn wanted to shield Tara; he could not. They walked by, the bodies wrapped in sheeting, but Tara was still watching, and her face was white.

Richard looked at Finn for a moment, and then passed by him, going to Tara. He took her in his arms.

Finn gritted his teeth, hating the fact that he longed to do the same.

“Grissom and London, see to her steam power. Richard, get her through the reefs, and we'll bring her in close enough to make use of her tomorrow.”

THERE WAS A CHEER when they brought the Union ship in. Her name was actually USS Freedom, something Tara hadn't noticed upon their initial approach. Richard brought her safely to anchor beyond the reefs and to the sandbar that created such shallow passage at the beachhead and then took the longboat to shore.

Finn, of course, announced the situation they had discovered on board, and since it was getting dark again, plans were made to make the ship seaworthy for a longer voyage the next morning.

Tara noted that Dr. MacKay drew Finn aside quickly when they arrived, and that Finn listened to him gravely. She realized that they came to a conclusion, and that MacKay immediately went to work on something that he found in his doctor's bag of tourniquets, needles and syringes.

She approached Finn, wanting to know what was going on.

He looked at her and hesitated. “The captain is dying. And if he dies, he will change.”

“We-we can't let him die,” she said, shaking her head and looking into Finn's eyes. She almost took a step away from him; there was something in his steeled composure that made her tremble, and she realized that the world was incredibly strange. Just days ago, they had fought a sea battle, and the captain and Finn and all these men might have died-and to her, it would have just been the course of war. Survival against the enemy. But now, so quickly, the captain had grown dear to her.

And Finn had become a strange ally in a world she had experienced only on her own until now. She felt safe in his presence. She listened to the sound of his voice, and it washed over her, and touched her, just as that power in his eyes did. He was extraordinarily attractive, with his lean muscled build, and she found herself thinking about the shimmer of water on his naked bronzed shoulders and chest when they had dived. She wanted so badly to touch him, to be close to him. She realized that she fantasized about lying beside him, and allowing her fingers to play over his flesh. He knew what she was; he respected her abilities, and he understood her weaknesses, and somehow there was a balance there that made her not just feel that fluttering, that warm attraction, but admiration, as well. God forbid…she was fascinated with the man. She liked him.

But though he was now an odd ally, he was still the enemy.

Looking at her, Finn sighed deeply. “I can help,” he told her quietly. “How?”

“Blood transfusion.”

“Blood transfusion? I've never heard of such a thing,” Tara said, realizing that Finn's presence kept her from being horrified or afraid. No, she was just puzzled.

“Giving blood from one person to another. Actually, the first reported successful attempt from one human being to another was in 1818, and, no, it isn't common. But doctors have saved a few men in the Union army after amputations with such a procedure.”

“How is it accomplished?” she asked.

“Dr. MacKay will certainly be better at the particulars than I am, but…quills are used to pierce the veins, and tubing, such as that used by embalmers. Dr. MacKay may well have what we need-the practice of embalming soldiers, when possible, has become more popular lately,” Finn said. “I intend to give him some of my blood as it will fight against the infection. But…giving blood will weaken me, so you must be prepared to combat anything that might come by night.”

She smiled at him. “I'm ready to stand in combat when our lives are threatened as they have been, but that's ridiculous. You are far more aware of what may come and how, and though I pride myself on being a quick learner, it's far more important that you maintain your strength.”

“I can't really ask this of you.”

“You're not asking. I'm volunteering.”

HE WAS STRUCK AGAIN, as he was far too often, by her beauty. Oval face, hazel eyes and red hair, now streaming down her back like in the rich shades of the sunset all around them. Her mouth was generous, and he longed to run his thumb along her lips, and he had to catch himself from such thoughts again. They were speaking about the captain's life, and of transfusion, which had rarely been done.

But he had a feeling that even if MacKay did not have actual experience in the procedure himself he would do his best in faith.

Finn held still, feeling as if every muscle in his body tensed. He could feel his jaw lock. He didn't want to put this on her.

But it was true.

His strength was the more necessary. They didn't know if they had faced the end of the monster enemy or not.

“You know that it's the right thing to do, letting me be the donor,” she said softly.

He still hesitated. Then he nodded slowly and spoke quietly. “All right. I don't like it, though, you know.”

“I know. But it's the most logical solution,” she told him. “Besides, in a short time, the captain has grown dear to me.”

Ah, if he could but hear such words from her about himself!

“Let's see MacKay,” he told her.

Together, they went to where MacKay still kept careful watch over the captain. When Finn looked at him, he shook his head.

“I fear that the end is near,” MacKay mouthed to him.

“No, please, I need you to listen to me, and do the best patient care you have ever done, for both patients,” Finn said.

“Both patients?” MacKay said, frowning.

Finn explained that he'd seen blood transfusions before, and that Tara was young, and willing. Tara stood by his side, smiling. MacKay looked at her and said, “I've never performed such an operation before.”

“But I have infinite faith in you,” Tara told him.

“It's the only way to save the captain,” Finn said flatly.

MacKay nodded slowly. “I have the equipment you mentioned.”

“Then let's get to it. Before the situation becomes too dire,” Finn said.

And so they began. Both MacKay and Tara listened as he gave instruction. MacKay was fine with Captain Tremblay, since Tremblay was unconscious; with Tara, MacKay seemed more worried.

“It's all right,” Tara assured him.

MacKay looked at her a long time. Again, Finn had the feeling that MacKay knew much more than he would admit to.

“All right,” he said.

Finn was surprised that it was Richard-among all the men there-that he called upon for help.

But, although they had begun this situation with a sea battle with Richard Anderson, he was the man he trusted most for assistance. Richard ordered Billy to start the men on mess, and Lafferty, London and Grissom were eager to get the evening meal going.

MacKay, as instructed, brought out clean quills. A pallet was set above the captain for Tara, and MacKay dug in his medical bag for the necessary tubing.

Tara winced slightly as the quill was stuck into her vein. She relaxed, though, as she saw her blood running through the tube and into the captain's veins.

Finn kept watch on the procedure.

And on the night.

But it seemed that they would be left in peace for the moment.

He scanned the sky, and he made sure that men were on watch.

The night wore on as the captain began to gain color again, and it appeared that he would live. Just as Tara was feeling the strain in earnest, the procedure was finished.

Tara was tired. Finn ordered her to lie on her pallet, and she smiled and did so. He lay next to her and asked anxiously, “You feel…all right?”

“Weak,” she told him. “But I will be fine.”

“And, I believe, the captain will live.”

Her smile deepened. “He is a good man,” she said. But then, her eyes continued to gaze into his. And she said, “You know something about my family. Please, tell me what you know. And you…how are you-what you are? I've been so far away from everything. Tell me, please?”

He paused, but her hazel eyes were on his. And there was no reason not to tell her what he knew.

“You have a brother,” he said. “And your brother is a doctor. His name is Cody.”

“I have a brother,” she said with awe. “And his name is Cody. And he's a doctor!”

“And you have a sister,” he said. “Her name is Megan.”

“You know them?” she asked hopefully, feeling reenergized momentarily.

He shook his head. “I know of them,” he said.

“How?” she whispered.

“Because they are the ones who quelled the rising in Harpers Ferry,” he told her. “I was assigned elsewhere at the time, but when it was over, I heard about all that happened.”

“I have a brother, and a sister!” She marveled. “So, of course, I'm assuming, they are children of my father.”

“Yes.”

“What about you?” she asked. She lay on her pallet, sunset hair spread beneath her, marbled and brilliant hazel eyes upon him. “Where do you come from?”