Rising Dark (The Darkling Trilogy, Book 2) (34 page)

For God’s sake, Avery. He
doesn’t need a long drawn out explanation,
Luna hissed in my mind.

“
...leave early. So I will
pass by your cabin in the morning, and let you know what I have
decided.”

“
Thank you, suh. Thank
you.”

His eyes widened in alarm when Luna
moved toward him with the horse. She handed him an old coat of
mine, which he took in bewilderment.

“
You can just let her go
free when you get home.” She gave him the reins of the horse.
“She’ll find her way back.”

He gave us both an awkward sort of bow
before putting on the coat. He mounted the horse and went on his
way. Looking back at us, he surmised we were as still as statues as
we watched him ride away. Those images of him slipping past his
master and out of the cabin were in his mind as he rode home. But
it wasn’t Luna this time. Those events had taken place many years
ago, but they haunted him still, and I suspect they always
would.

When he was out of sight, I held out
my hand to Luna. She grasped it and we materialised in the drawing
room.

Troubled, I didn’t speak for a few
moments, but watched her walk to the chair and sit down, avoiding
my gaze. I walked over to her a few moments later, pulled up a
chair and sat opposite her. I reached for her hands and held them
gently in my own.

“
Why did you do that to
him, Luna?”

I was far more troubled about what had
occurred than I was willing to let her see.

She was silent for a few moments and
when she lifted her gaze to meet mine, her eyes were moist and she
bit her bottom lip.

“
I don’t know,” she
whispered.

I let the silence gather for a few
moments, hoping she would say more, but she didn’t and merely let
her gaze drop. I brought one of her hands to my lips and kissed it,
letting her know I wasn’t judging her.

But I was judging her. I just didn’t
understand her at times. She had considered his well-being enough
to bring him a horse and coat so he wouldn’t have to make the long
walk back home in the cold. So I couldn’t understand how she could
be so cruel to him, one of her own people, someone in the same
monstrous situation she had been in before I entered her life. But,
as always, the field of dead slaves stopped me from voicing these
thoughts. How could I judge anyone for being cowardly and
cruel?

“
So what should we do? I
cannot bear the thought of leaving them in that bind. But it may
open the floodgates for many others to come and seek us out for
help. There are so many suffering and we cannot help them all. They
are also bound to talk to others about our peculiar habits, and it
will only be a matter of time before people start to become
suspicious of us.”

“
They already are. Well,
the Negroes in this town are, anyway. It was desperation that
brought him to our door. We should do as he asks. Have them here to
look after the house during the day, and let them have the slave
cabins at the back. If we’re careful, they may not see much of us
at all.”

So it was agreed and I
looked forward to telling Samuel that the three of them could come
and work for us
.

They arrived the following afternoon
with very little. Samuel’s wife, Alba, a tall, lean woman with
broad, plain features, stood meekly by his side, fear and worry
marking her brow. Their daughter, Celesta, was a mere slip of a
girl who had her father’s slate-black complexion and noble African
features. She inched closer to her father when I came out to greet
them and stared at the ground, her shoulders an inch lower than
they had been, as if she would disappear into the ground if she
could. She was silent the entire time I spent talking to them and
seemed incredibly withdrawn from what was happening around
her.

Luna was waiting in the corridor.
Despite the way she tormented Samuel the night before, she was
excited about having them come and work for us. Celesta relaxed
when she saw her there, especially when we showed them around the
mansion and it became clear Luna was not another
servant.

Despite this, the first few weeks with
them were fraught with tension. Alba did not like Luna and did not
hide it. Unfortunately, the feeling was mutual. Celesta seemed to
shrink within herself daily, and whether it was because she knew we
were not human, or because of a general fear of white men after
what had happened to her, she was terrified of me and could barely
speak in my presence. Only Samuel seemed happy to be there. He was
still nervous around Luna, but that was purely because she could be
so changeable.

One evening Celesta was sent by her
mother to wait on us throughout dinner. When I saw her hands
shaking as she poured a glass of wine for me, I told her she should
return to the kitchen as we did not need her.

“
Why did you send her
away?” Luna asked as soon as she left the room. Luna had been in
one of her dark, volatile moods for over a week now.

“
Did you not see the way
she was looking at me? And her memories—she couldn't stop shaking.
It is most unsettling.”

She laid her fork down and glared at
me. “Oh, poor Avery. How you must be suffering.”

“
That is not what I meant
and you know that!”

Now it was my turn to be in a bad
mood, especially since a particularly unpleasant thing had occurred
earlier on that day. Whilst Luna and I were in the throes of our
lovemaking, an image of Master John entered her mind. This is
something that had happened before, but over the past few weeks his
nauseating face had entered her mind nearly every time we made
love. So the two of us sat in silence, directing furtive, baleful
glances at each other. To make matters worse, Celesta came back
into the room, trembling and red-eyed from the telling off she
received from her mother for not doing her job.

I sighed and did my best to pretend
she wasn’t in the room, which seemed to be the only way to deal
with her, as even a glance in her direction was apparently too much
for her.

After a while, I noticed the sombre
silence had become charged. Celesta was standing by the table with
her eyes locked on Luna. Thinking she was tormenting the girl
mentally as she had done with her father the night he came to us
for help, my anger leapt to the surface and I was about to speak
when I realised there were tears in Luna’s eyes and the reason for
her bad mood became apparent. Celesta’s memories were affecting
Luna too. How could they not? It also explained why Master John had
been entering her mind so often of late.

I saw now that Luna was silently
communicating with Celesta, showing the girl her past, the moment
she knelt at the stream with the wickedly sharp rock in one hand,
the herbs to abort Master John’s child in the other. She also
showed Celesta that wild ride through the night that ended with me
arriving in time to prevent that boy from killing Luna and
Jupiter.

“
You’re safe now,” Luna
said. “He’ll never let anyone do anything to you and neither will
I. You understand?”

Celesta nodded, probably too shocked
to speak.

“
Now go tell your mama we
don’t need you here tonight.”

She nodded again and quickly
departed.

The silence in the room was heavy
until I broke it.

“
Well,
that
was helpful. I am sure letting
her see me rip apart and dismember those men will make her much
more comfortable around me. And let us not forget the fact that
they are not supposed to know what we are.”

“
I’m not an idiot! I’ve
made sure she forgets most of the details by the time she goes to
bed, only my words will remain and the fact that you saved
me.”

Silence descended on the room. After a
few moments, I stood and came to stand behind her. I placed my
hands on her shoulders. She reached for one of my hands and
squeezed it. Despite my words, I was pleased because it was the
first time I had seen her reach out to any of them, and I was
relieved because I liked having the Morrisons at the
mansion.

***

A few days later I returned to the
mansion after a short visit to town. The Morrisons were in the
kitchen.

“
I just saw someone from
your old home,” I said in an offhand manner. “He told me your old
boss suffered a fall from his horse and was nearly trampled to
death. In fact, they said he is crippled and may never walk
again.”

I expected some sort of reaction,
perhaps discreet joy at this news, for I certainly did not like the
man. What I got instead was a clamp down.

Their expressions went blank and even
their minds seemed to freeze over. Celesta, always uneasy in my
presence, recoiled as if I had pointed a gun at her head. Samuel’s
gaze slid guiltily away. Alba focused on the bread she was kneading
as if her very life depended on it.

I gazed at them. It was obvious they
knew a lot more about what had happened to their old boss and that
it was much more than a fall from his horse. I was curious, but not
particularly concerned. It would have taken me only moments to
search their minds and discover whatever it was that had made them
react in that way. But I didn’t. Why should it bother me if one of
the Negroes in this town had found a way to pay that cruel man back
for his sins? Besides, Luna walked into the kitchen then, and my
attention was diverted.

It is curious when I look back at my
memories and really look at the events that took place. All I saw
that day was sunlight and joy. At the time, Luna walked into the
kitchen, beautiful and resplendent in a blue gown with a high
neckline, pinched waist, and ruffles along its bell-shaped skirt. I
complimented her, she thanked me, I took her hand, and we left
together.

Now when I look at it, I see so much I
ignored. She looked dazzling, as always, when she walked into the
room. She paused at the door, gazing at each of the Morrisons in
turn. Samuel and Alba looked away. It was only Celesta who met her
gaze, the smallest, saddest smile grazing her lips before she left
the kitchen. I was oblivious to the tension, the hidden threat in
Luna’s eyes as she gazed at them before I took her hand.

“
You look beautiful,
Luna.”

When she looked at me, her gaze
softened and she smiled, surprisingly shy as if it were the first
time she had heard those words from me. “Thank you,
Avery.”

As we left the kitchen, she paused at
the door to glance at Alba and Samuel one last time before she
exited.

I was so blind, my attention only on
the painful thorns that existed within our relationship. One in
particular had to do with never having heard Luna say three very
simple—but extremely important—words directly to me either out loud
or mentally.

One night after the Morrisons had long
retired to bed, we were in the drawing room and Luna was
complaining about something Alba had said to her whilst I sat in
the chair with a book, having learned long ago to not even attempt
to interrupt her when she was in one of these moods.

She stopped abruptly and regarded me
with ice in her eyes. “Are you even listening to me,
Avery?”

I lay my book down and met her
gaze.

“
No. Perhaps it is old
age, but I find that nowadays it seems to be harder and harder to
listen to your thoughts.”

“
Old age?” she hissed,
taking a step toward me and tugging the book out of my
hand.

“
And why should I bother,
anyway?” I continued. “Your mind was once like an open field,
nothing was hidden from me. But nowadays whenever I venture there I
find locked rooms and fences barring my way forward.”

“
Keep on, Avery. You may
just get that fight you’re so obviously itching for.”

She flung the book in my lap and made
to walk away, but I took hold of her arm, pulling her back around
to face me.

“
Do you love me,
Luna?”

At first her eyes widened with shock
and then she glared down at me before wrenching her arm out of my
grasp.

“
How dare you ask me such
a stupid question? Do I love you? I fought death for
you.”

“
Because I have never
heard you say it. Even now, you do not say it.”

“
I don’t need to say it!”
She flounced to the door before rounding on me, her anger making
her movements rough and jerky. “I have shown you a thousand times,
in a thousand ways, what I feel for you. How can you not know what
I feel for you? I live with you, give you my body and everything
that I have, even though we’re not married. Yet you can ask me
that?”

“
Oh yes. The marriage
thing—
again
. I
would happily take you to a church and stand before God and profess
my love. But even if a white man
could
legally marry a Negro woman,
the same magic that keeps us from entering a human’s home without
an invitation is the same that keeps us from entering a church.
Even if we are invited in, we still cannot enter a church. Or have
you forgotten this even though we have tried it many times? And let
us not forget that I have suggested we go to Europe and marry so
our union—”