The Wreck of the Mary Byrd by Cherie Priest

Author:Cherie Priest
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Subterranean Press
Published: 2015-09-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter VIII

Jack slipped out the way he’d come, leaving me and Sister Eileen waiting tense and alone together at the table. She handled his rudeness so well, and it made me glad of her sterling character even as the situation made me angry. There was much more to her than you might expect from a small lady in a habit, but isn’t that the way it always goes? Once every blue moon, and once in a royal flush—people will surprise you.

He unnerved her, though—as he unnerved me. I couldn’t say how I knew he was nearby, and watching. When I called him out, I only meant to invite him in, but if he was going to behave so badly, it was just as well that he’d shown himself the door.

So I could not understand why his leaving did not relieve me.

Sister Eileen released a deep breath she’d been holding. “He’s mad,” she said, as if that explained everything. “Perfectly mad.”

“That may be,” I agreed.

“He’s dangerous, you know. Or don’t you think?”

I don’t know why she added the last part, undoing her statement a little by asking for my opinion. I wondered why she felt the need to do that. “I do think he could be, as any madman might be a danger to himself and others.”

“We are the only others here, Mr. Cooper.”

I knew it then—how she already knew more than I did. I could see it in the way she wasn’t blinking, and in the way the muscles in her hands were taut like small ropes. She shifted in her chair as if she’d make herself more comfortable there, then changed her mind and rose to her feet.

“I appreciate your chivalrous defense, but I think it would be best if you’ll let him be. Don’t antagonize him on my behalf, please. I do not trust him, and I think that—given precious little instigation—he would do you harm. He needs only the smallest excuse.”

“I beg your pardon? My dear lady—”

She interrupted me. “Something is wrong tonight. It’s the weather, I think. Isn’t it funny how it affects us sometimes?”

“It’s very loud. The thunder is devilish, suddenly. But the captain has dropped anchor now and we’ll wait it out. The rain will clear and we’ll be on our way again soon. God knows there’s no frowning for the weather.”

“God knows it, and so do I.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, increasingly curious as she grew increasingly cryptic. “I wish you’d do me the favor of speaking directly, instead of these little riddles.”

She pushed her chair aside to leave the table and waited, with one hand on its back. “It’s easier to tell the truth in allegory and riddles though, don’t you think? Jesus did it, with his parables.”

“Like the Good Samaritan.”

“Indeed—just like that one. Do you think there was ever a real man, injured beside the road? Or might he have invented it to convey a point?”

“I’m sure I can’t say. So tell me a parable, then. Make me understand what sets us all on edge tonight, and why you think poor Jack is taking it with such difficulty.

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