Rising Dark (The Darkling Trilogy, Book 2) (4 page)

His manner was haughty, scorn dancing
behind those eyes when he approached. And when he reached us, he
smiled and bowed, his manner almost mocking, before he introduced
himself.

He suggested we leave Julia with
another family that had been aboard our ship and take the baggage
to a waiting carriage. So, reluctantly, I left Julia on her own and
followed Kato to the carriage.

When I returned, Julia was with a
female slave dressed in a grey silk gown. She was probably no more
than sixteen years of age and was a deep cocoa brown. She had
quick, lively eyes and a small flat nose. A long gold chain with a
cross hung from her neck. She stood beside Julia in silence and
stared down at her feet, appearing dumb to all around her. But then
she glanced up and undisguised fear passed over her features when
she saw me, or, more precisely, my dark clothing and white necktie.
I moved to Julia’s side, avoiding glancing at the slave girl as I
still felt incredibly uneasy around these creatures that seemed not
quite human. But the slave could not take her eyes off
me.

“
We are to
meet...um...Kato? Is that his name? We are to meet him
at—”

“
You a preacher man?” the
slave asked, still staring at me with avid fear.

“
Yes, yes I
am.”

My discomfort turned to irritation
when she grasped Julia by the arm in a grip I could see was quite
painful.

“
What are you doing?
Unhand her,” I said.

She did not appear to have heard me,
but instead spoke again, keeping her voice to a whisper although
the urgency was still there.

“
You has to go.” She
glanced furtively around her and then back at me. “You has to leave
and get back on the ship—any ship—and leave ‘fore
sundown.”

Julia grasped both of the girl’s hands
in her own, her brow furrowed as she gazed earnestly at her. “What
do you mean? Why should we leave?”

The girl’s fear seemed to have
overcome her and she was speechless for a few moments, still
looking around us as if afraid to name whatever she was warning us
of.

“
She wants him. That be
why she has massa bring you here. You has to leave
‘fore—”

“
Minny!”

Kato was standing a few feet away from
us, his expression aghast as he stared at Minny. Although he had
spoken softly, I saw quiet anger mingled with fear in his piercing
green eyes. The tension hung heavily in the humid air as he closed
the space between him and Minny and seized her by the arm. When he
met my gaze, the arrogance I had first seen had fled and in its
place was a disquieting unease.

He reached for the small bag Julia was
carrying. “We should leave now if we’s to get back in time for
dinner.”

Julia nodded, glancing surreptitiously
at Minny. But the slave girl’s gaze was fixed on the ground as Kato
led us to the carriage, although I saw that her gaze kept returning
to my white necktie, that unmistakable dread alight in her dark
eyes.

I expected that Minny would sit with
us in the carriage, but she joined Kato up front where I heard his
furious whispers before the sound was snatched away by the pounding
of horses’ hooves as the carriage moved away. Julia soon fell
asleep, leaving me alone with my thoughts as the carriage rode
swiftly through the countryside.

I had found the exchange with the
slave girl odd, but I chose not to dwell on it as she was a Negro,
after all. And from what I had heard of them, they were childlike
creatures that were prone to wild flights of fancy and
superstitions. I was beginning a new chapter of my life, one that
promised untold joy now I had cast away the cares of my old life. I
had no intention of letting the remarks of a mere slave ruin that
for me.

We finally arrived at the Foster
plantation. It was vast, a miniature town with woodlands and a
sprawling field abundant with cotton. Instead of relief and joy at
the sight of my new home, disquiet settled within me. Slaves moved
through the cotton field quickly and silently, intent upon their
work with a feverish single-mindedness that astounded me. We passed
plenty of slaves as we rode through the vast plantation, all of
them well-dressed and hurrying about their business. There were
perhaps hundreds of slaves on this plantation, and although many we
passed regarded the carriage with interest, their eyes slid away
from mine whenever my gaze met theirs. But I felt the heat of that
gaze return to linger as soon as we had passed. Their fear was
almost palpable, and it burned as if I could feel their stares
boring through the back of the carriage into me.

Kato brought us up to a colossal white
mansion that intruded upon its vivid green surroundings like an
unwanted guest. Modelled after Greek architecture with white
columns at the front of the building, it sat smug and superior in
the afternoon sun. He hopped down from the carriage and opened the
door for us, helping Julia alight. The arrogant curve around his
mouth deepened when he saw us gaping at the formidable mansion
before us.

He bowed in that mocking way of his
before he took hold of Minny, who seemed to have grown smaller now
we were at the plantation, and moved away. I saw Kato's lips
moving, his brow creased, as he led her away, leaving us to our
hosts, the Fosters, who had come out to the mansion steps when the
carriage pulled up.

A short, dark-haired, rotund man with
a heavy moustache came forward.

“
Reverend Wentworth. Mrs
Wentworth. I am Jothan Foster. Welcome, welcome to my home.” His
smile was so wide and fixed that it appeared contrived, as did his
oily, overly gracious tone. “This is my wife, Grace, and my only
son, Alden.”

They were all plump and exceptionally
well-dressed in expensive silks, and draped in jewels. They
reminded me of overfed, pampered hens waddling out to greet us in
the midday sun. Alden Foster came forward and shook my hand before
he bowed to Julia. He looked to be in his early twenties and had a
soft, fleshy face with a small upturned nose and large, limpid blue
eyes. But his gaze was cold behind his smile and, like his father,
there was no warmth in his tone. Mrs Foster was in her early
forties with small brown eyes and a thin, pinched mouth. She merely
nodded in our direction, lazily fanning herself as she looked off
into the distance as if bored with the whole affair.

“
Come inside. Dinner will
be ready in an hour. Phillis,” he said, referring to a silent,
mahogany-skinned Negro female, “will take you to your rooms and
bring up some refreshments for you.”

We moved into the inside of the
mansion, which was as magnificent as its exterior with high
ceilings, plush rugs, and every conceivable symbol of wealth from
paintings by esteemed artists to priceless ornaments. We followed
Phillis to our room in silence, awed by the extraordinary wealth
all around us. Two other male slaves arrived with our luggage
moments later, seemingly eager to deposit the luggage and be away
from us as fast as their feet could carry them.

“
I saw a beautiful rose
garden as we came up to the mansion,” Julia said to the morose
Phillis. “Could you take me to it?”

“
Yes, miss,” she
replied.

Julia kissed me on the cheek and they
left the room.

Alone, the cloying unease I had felt
since arriving at the plantation deepened, much like the
suffocating summer heat which pressed upon me like an invisible
menace. I went to the window and looked outside, watching slaves
moving to and fro with single-minded purpose and realised exactly
what was missing on this plantation: the sound of laughter and idle
chatter that was characteristic of places as heavily populated as
this. I heard only silence and a soullessness that made me feel as
if I had walked into a ghost town.

I moved to the bed and lay
down.

The slave girl’s words, or, more
precisely, the fear she had displayed rose to the fore of my mind.
I pushed it aside and closed my eyes, meaning to give myself a few
moments to resettle my thoughts. I was soon fast asleep.

I was startled out of sleep by an
anguished cry, like that of a wounded bird. I sat up with a jolt,
dazed and unsure if what I had heard was rooted in reality or the
remnant of some dream. Then I heard it again.

“
Avery
!”

Fear thrilled through me when I
recognised the voice. I leapt to my feet and ran to the door. I met
Julia in the foyer. If what I had heard in her voice had shaken me,
it was nothing compared to the state she was in. She was a ghostly
white, tears were streaming down her face and she was trembling.
One of the male slaves was half-carrying her and she clung to
Phillis's hand.

“
Avery
!”

She tore loose from them when she saw
me and ran into my arms. She was hyperventilating, caught in a wild
panic as she fought to speak.

“
You have got to make them
stop!” she gasped.

“
Stop what? What
happened?”

“
The...the screaming
and...and...they... The blood...so much blood...”

Blood
?

It felt as if all the heat had been
sucked out of the mansion, leaving me shivering. Julia’s voice
trailed away and she no longer focused on me but on whatever had
scared her so. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she
lost consciousness. For a few moments I stood holding a dead weight
in my arms, and the situation was so peculiar I almost felt for her
pulse to see if she was still alive. Instead, I faced the two
Negroes.

“
What happened? What
frightened her so?” My voice rose with each word.

I was left with a wall of silence,
their gazes meeting the floor.

“
Tell me!
”

The female at last met my gaze. She
opened her mouth as if to speak but then closed it again. I noticed
then that she was clasping her hands together with such force it
seemed she might break her own fingers. Then she pulled her gaze
away from mine and toward the window, focusing on a large wooden
structure farther down the path. Her gaze was steady when it met
mine again, but I understood her unspoken message. I placed Julia
in the arms of the male slave, directing my words to the
female.

“
Take care of
her.”

I was out of the door and walking
toward the structure, a barn by the looks of it, panic rising with
each step. As I got closer, I heard a noise coming from the barn, a
steady, rhythmic snapping noise, like the sound of leather against
leather. For some reason it made the hairs on the back of my neck
stand up and the sound seemed to snap at my heels as I moved toward
the barn. The Negroes I passed looked surprised when they saw where
I was headed, but no one made an attempt to stop me as I
entered.

The first thing that assaulted my
senses was the heat. Then the stench of rotting flesh mingled with
fresh blood filled my nostrils. It reminded me of a hunting trip I
had been forced to go on with my father. Many years had passed
since that trip and I could still remember with painful clarity the
frozen eyes of the dead deer along with the blood—so much blood.
For a moment I couldn’t move, I was so caught in the memory and the
terror. And then my mind was able to make sense of what I saw and
it was far worse than anything I had seen on those hunting
trips.

A woman was hung naked by her arms
from one of the beams. Her dark skin glistened with sweat in the
sunlight that cut across the barn diagonally from the slats in the
roof. She appeared to be only half-conscious and her eyes had
rolled so far back in her head that only the whites were visible.
The most shocking sight of all was the skin on her back, which had
deep, red lacerations. So deep, in fact, that ribbons of flesh had
been stripped from her back, leaving open wounds from which blood
flowed freely, spilling down her back and legs to form a crimson
pool on the ground. Even as I focused on the ripped, bloodied
flesh, the whip came down on her back again, on flesh that was
already gaping open, and I felt my stomach turn at the perceived
pain. But from the victim there was only a low moan.

“
Stop,” I heard myself
mumble.

The whip came down again.

“
Stop!”

The man, a ruddy-skinned white male I
hadn’t seen until then, had not heard me enter. He whirled around
in surprise, his hand halting in mid-air as he looked past me to
the door. I tore my gaze away from the slave girl and looked toward
the door in time to see Alden Foster direct a short nod to the man.
Alden’s expression was grim, but when he turned to me, he had a
hard tight smile on his lips as he took me by the arm.

“
Reverend, why don’t we
step outside?”

With one last glance at the gruesome
sight of the young woman, I let him lead me outside.

“
Why was she being
beaten?” I was able to say as he led me away from the
barn.

Although out in the fresh air, I felt
no better, and the awful smell of rotting meat hung in my nostrils,
making me feel queasy. Despite the heat, which was like rolling
waves of hot air, I felt cold and clammy, especially since I had
seen the face of the girl being beaten. It was Minny, the one who
told us to leave before sundown.