Chapter Thirteen

Benjamin Witherspoon was the type of gentleman who took his good fortune for granted. He had the well-fed, perspiring, mildly annoyed attitude that told me he'd never faced true hardship.

"I can't imagine what's gone wrong with him." Witherspoon's voice was thin, breathy, and he mopped his face with a handkerchief. "He took ill at dinner and came back to our rooms. When I returned, I found him insensible."

"Let me examine him. I'm sure there's an explanation." Before even entering the room, I wished I'd brought my bag with the vial of sal volatile. If this man's symptoms were similar to my other patients, I'd need smelling salts to rouse him.

We entered a two-room suite. The front room was furnished with an elegant Louis XV settee and matching chairs. The floral upholstery was rose and taupe silk, and similar shades decorated the wool rug.

We went straight through the room, however, to the bedroom. A single oil lamp on the bedside table showed a young man lying on top of the comforter, still in his coat, waistcoat, and breeches. His boots were on the ground near the bed. His clothing was fine, his dark curls romantic, and he was a good twenty years younger than Witherspoon. Rather than dwell on that, I shook the man's shoulder.

"What's his name?"

Witherspoon told me, and I shouted it, my mouth close enough to his ear to brush the lobe with my lips.

He did not respond.

I tried again, shaking his shoulder and hollering. When that didn't work, I moved his cravat and loosened his shirt.

"What are you doing?" Witherspoon was all but quivering with distress.

"Rubbing his breastbone. The pain will stimulate him." I did just that, rubbing hard and calling the man's name.

Still no response.

"Do you have any sol volatile?" I asked.

"Oh my, no. I don't believe we do."

We . "All right. I'll need you to find some."

"Me? Where?"

"Find a steward and ask him to retrieve my bag or go to the second level and see if Will Carrington has returned to my rooms. He'll know what to do."

"Why don't you go? I should stay here, and…and…"

"Go and find my bag or a bottle of sol volatile, and I'll stay here and continue my examination."

"Oh. Of course." He tucked away his handkerchief and gave the young man on the bed a distressed look. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Very good. Thank you."

He left, and after giving him time to get down the hall, I opened the door again. Windblown rain pelted me, and after a moment, Aharon emerged from the shadows. I let him in the room.

"He's done this," Aharon said.

I closed the door behind him. "Who? The priest?"

"That thing he conjured."

I returned to the young man's bedside, taking hold of his wrist. His pulse throbbed against my fingertips, slower than I'd expected but still present. His breathing was regular and his lips were pink. "I expect you are correct. I can find nothing wrong with this man, except that he won't wake up. It was the same with the others. Smelling salts brought them around, but…"

The boat swayed around us, moving with the swoop of a particularly large wave. I lifted one of the young man's eyelids. He didn't react in any way, though his pupil constricted. Same with the other eye. "At least that's—"

He inhaled, a great, stuttering breath, then exhaled on a sigh. He did not take another breath. I glanced at Aharon, who stared at the man as if willing him to inhale. The pause grew longer. If he failed to breathe, I could force air into his lungs from my mouth to his. I shook his shoulder, calling his name.

Still nothing.

The color in his cheeks started to fade. The man was dying in front of our eyes. With no choice, I tipped his head up and tugged on his lower jaw, opening his mouth. He didn't respond to my touch, but he did gasp.

One breath led to another, and after a few moments, I turned to Aharon. "Witherspoon will return soon, and you shouldn't be here."

Aharon's jaw firmed. "How long will you stay?"

"Until it is safe to leave him." We shared a glance and I gave him a faint smile. "I'll feel better knowing you're safe, too."

"You know we need to stop Fr. Dominic. We can't allow him to prey on the passengers."

The man was breathing regularly enough that I felt confident crossing the room to take Aharon's hand. "As long as the icon is ours in the end, I don't much care how we go about it." Another wave hit, rocking us hard enough that the lamps flickered and I came close to stumbling. "This storm. Things are getting better and better."

Aharon laughed. "I'll meet you at your rooms. Take care of him, and I'll see if there's a chink in Fr. Dominic's armor."

I squeezed his hand. "Be careful."

He returned the pressure. "You too." He leaned forward, and for a moment, I thought he would kiss me. He didn't, cupping my cheek with his cool hand instead. "You too."

With that, he all but disappeared, slipping out of the room and leaving no trace. I have little use for an all-knowing god, especially one whose priests dabble in demonology, but still I pulled an old prayer from my schoolboy memories.

There shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling.

For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.

This young man seemed more distressed than those who'd exhibited similar symptoms, or at least I'd never noted the others to cease breathing. I returned to the bedroom, hoping Witherspoon would hurry with the sol volatile, because worrying about that saved me from worrying about more serious issues.

Like what it meant that Fr. Dominic had apparently killed a man and blamed it on Aharon, and how we were going to get the icon safely away from a man who could raise demons.

D

Why had I left Hugh? If given the choice, I'd spend a lot more time with him.

The ship pitched and rolled, a sharp movement that caught me off guard. I barely had time to conceal myself when that lumbering fool, Witherspoon, passed me. He ran with his hands on his head in a vain attempt to block the rain. If he'd failed to bring the help Hugh needed, things would get even worse.

I had no idea whether Hugh could revive the young man. The spell Fr. Dominic cast had smacked of evil. Someone had to stop him from doing it again, and since Hugh was busy, that someone would have to be me.

First, though, I'd find Will because Hugh needed his help. In that, I got lucky. He was in Hugh's rooms, rooting around in a black leather satchel. I hadn't bothered to knock, though if Will felt guilt for whatever he was doing, he didn't let it show.

"Hugh's been called to see another patient no one can rouse." I leaned against the door jamb, giving Will a sharp once-over. There was a softness to him that didn't quite fit with his demeanor. "You don't trust me."

It was plain to see. He might tolerate me for Hugh's sake, but he'd stake me if he had the chance.

"Forgive me," he said, without an ounce of repentance in his voice. "I honestly haven't decided where your loyalties lie."

I rocked my head back and laughed. "My loyalties." Since he was Hugh's assistant, I abandoned the rudest things that came to mind. "Not long ago, I cared more about the price of silk than I did about any of this. I'm a businessman, or I was, the kind of man who took his mother to church on Sunday because she wanted to go, even though he did not believe." And despite the most unholy acts I committed on Saturday nights.

His gaze narrowed. "How long ago?"

"I…I'm not sure." The realization made me laugh. "Since Fr. Dominic arranged for this change in my nature, I've lost track of time."

He set the satchel aside. "Fr. Dominic?"

"Never mind." I'd explain myself to Hugh before I'd tell my story to this man. "Hugh is on the upper floor in room forty-four. Bring him his supplies."

"And what are you going to do?"

The suspicion in his voice raised my hackles. "I'm going to find a way to retrieve the icon and stop our dear Father from causing any more trouble."

"And how are you going to do that?"

"I have no earthly idea."

With that, I left the room without bothering to conceal myself. A cluster of passengers were in the hall, though if they were surprised to see a man wearing Egyptian robes, they kept their comments to themselves.

On this level, the hallway had no windows, though the pitch and roll of the ship told me the storm continued. The oil sconces flickered and a pair of crewmen raced past. Something was amiss.

Having already explored the lower level, I decided to follow Will. I waited in the shadows until he left the doctor's rooms and then I trailed after him, doing my best to keep myself concealed.

More crewmen. A knot of passengers, their voices raised either through drink or fear. I let Will get near to the top of the stairs before I started climbing, figuring I could move fast enough to catch him.

And I would have, except at the top of the stairs, someone grasped my shoulder.

If my heart were still capable of beating, it would have stopped right then. One of the monks, the one with sad eyes, tugged on my sleeve.

"What?" I might have yelled the word.

"Shh." He released me, his hands raised in a show of weakness. "Please, I need your help."

Everything in me wanted to run. Only the confidence that I could outrace him kept me standing. "Why should I help you?"

He twisted his fingers together, brow furrowed. "Fr. Dominic has gone mad. He spends all his time with his evil spells, and I do not know what to do."

"You were happy to help him when we first boarded this godforsaken scow."

"That was before he killed Piotr."

The ship gave a sharp pitch, throwing us against the wall. I recovered faster, though the monk's anger unsettled me as much as the shifting boat.

"Piotr was your fellow monk? I'd heard I was responsible for his death."

He brushed my comment away. "I saw him do it. He made me help," he said. His voice broke on the word helped, making his guilt plain.

"How do I know you're not deceiving me? You could be an excellent actor."

"I'm not." He grabbed handfuls of his cassock, tearing at the black fabric. " In nomine Domini, I will destroy him or die trying, but I'd do better with your help."

I swallowed a curse. "All right. Come with me, but if you're lying to me, I'll make sure you suffer too." Suffer? Hell, I'd kill the man myself.

"Oh, thank you." He scurried after me down the stairs. I didn't have a true destination in mind. I just wanted to be out of sight while we made a plan. The ship rolled underneath us, and a loud bang made the walls shake.

And when they stopped shaking, all was silent except for the slap of water against the craft.

The steam engine must have stopped.

Footsteps pounded overhead. I grabbed the monk by the wrist and dragged him to Hugh's room.

"Wait, we can't go in there."

Crewmen, four of them, were running toward us. I dove through the door, leaving the monk in the hallway.

The crewmen ignored the monk, their excited chatter making it plain they were headed for the engine. Others were likely on the deck, fighting with the sails. I had no idea whether even the best captain could keep us on course in a raging storm, so I could only pray it was blowing us closer to Gibraltar and not further away.

The fact that I'd allowed prayer to enter the equation showed me the depths of my distress.

Once we were alone, I caught the monk's sleeve and dragged him into Hugh's rooms. "What is your name?" I couldn't just call him the one with sad eyes . Turning up the oil lamp, I lifted it so we could see each other.

"Brother James O'Brien."

"All right, Brother. Let's see what we have here. Tell me about Fr. Dominic. What is he likely doing now?"

Br. James brought out a string of beads, his lips moving. "Oh," he said, blinking in surprise as if I'd interrupted his prayer. "He intended to work another spell. He's been telling us it's his way of communing with our Father in Heaven, but I'm not stupid. The Lord would never condone such corruption."

"I think I've seen the results of his spells. Well, not seen , exactly"—I crossed my arms without spilling any lamp oil—"but I had the strong sense that he's created large, wormlike creatures that move through walls."

He fingered his beads, an unconscious attempt to protect himself with prayer.

"I followed one tonight to a guest room and found the guest there unconscious."

"Oh no. It happened again?"

I wanted to throttle the man. "You know about the others?"

He clenched his fists so tight they turned white. "He told us the Lord demanded sacrifice."

Shaking my head, I glanced around the room. This man—this monk—had clearly been hand-picked by Fr. Dominic as someone who would do what he was told without asking questions. It had to have taken every ounce of his will to seek me out. "There's a case under Fr. Dominic's bed. If I help you keep him from working any more of his evil spells, I want that case in return."

"Of course. Anything. I'll do anything."

The ship swayed hard enough to make the oil in the lamp splash. More footsteps thundered passed our room, this time heading toward the stairs. I could only hope this barge would stay afloat, otherwise we'd all die before dawn. I could hear my mother's voice saying, "Evil as well as good, both operate to advance the Great Plan."

I had no idea how this disaster would advance anybody's plan.

With a shake of my head, I made myself attend to the monk. "Tell me more about Fr. Dominic. What does he hope to accomplish with all of this?"

"The greater glory of God."

Setting the lamp on the desk, I bit my lip to keep from saying something rude. A fang pierced my skin. Ya khasara. Things could not get more absurd. "You believe him?"

Br. James tucked his beads away. "I do, or I did. When we left Alexandria, he told us he had ensured the survival of the Church. I'm afraid he made a bargain with a demon to do it."

That made sense to me. One misstep had led to another and another until they brought us to this point. Br. James' gaze weighed heavily on me, though there was nothing I could say that would bring him salvation. My mind was already a jumble and I struggled to make some sense to myself. There were still things I needed to know. "Does Fr. Dominic ever leave the room?"

"Not anymore. He would take his dinner at the captain's table, but now he has it brought to his rooms."

I'd suspected as much, but it was useful to have it confirmed. "Where is the demon? How does Fr. Dominic talk to it?"

"I'm not sure."

"Hmm…" I pictured Fr. Dominic holding the small box and chanting in Phoenician. "What's in that box?"

"Oh, that? The little box he carries? It's full of dirt."

"Dirt?" That made no sense to me, unless… "I wonder where the dirt came from."

"A graveyard. He had us fill it before we left."

I could only blink at him. "Did he ask you to look for a specific grave, or just any old spot in the graveyard?"

"He wanted it from the former pastor's grave."

"That didn't seem odd to you?"

The light caught him just right, showing me the guileless blue eyes of an innocent. "Fr. Dominic and Fr. Fayek were very close. We Roman Catholics are easily drowned out by all the lesser traditions, and both of them wanted the true faith to grow."

Again the image of Fr. Dominic chanting over the box of dirt took hold of me. "Do you think you could bring it to me?"

Those blue eyes widened. "I…I'm not sure."

"If you have the chance, take the box and bring it to me. I'll know what to do with it."

He was silent for so long I thought he might refuse me, but finally he cleared his throat. "Perhaps when he goes to the privy?"

I fought the urge to smile. "Whenever you have the chance."

"Where will I find you?"

"I'll be nearby, watching for you. We must do this soon, before we get to Gibraltar."

He gave a deep inhale. "If the Lord wills it, I'll succeed."

If the Lord…for pity's sake. "You can do this, Brother. Yalla . Go. Before he misses you."

Br. James left me alone in Hugh's room. I gave him a few moments, then followed, a plan taking shape in my mind. I would divide my time between rooms thirty-six and forty-four, and at the first opportunity, I'd explain Hugh's role to him. He wouldn't like it—hell, he may well be too busy to help—but if I could distract Fr. Dominic, Hugh would be the one to snatch the case and hide it.

Between the two of us, we'd defeat the priest and his demon accomplice.