“As I mean for her future and mine to be intertwined, she’ll have the support she needs.”
Doc nodded. “I never for a moment imagined otherwise.”
“For a confirmed bachelor, you have a remarkably good grasp of what it means to love so entirely,” Brogan said.
Doc gave a quick, awkward nod and made quickly for the door.
“Did I embarrass him?” Brogan wondered aloud.
“There’s one thing Doc don’t allow discussion on,” Mrs. Simms said as she, too, made for the door, “and that’s the matter of his bachelorhood.”
“Is he unhappy about being unattached?” Brogan asked. “He’s always seemed to take pride in it.”
“Proud posturing covers a multitude of secrets.” On that mysterious declaration, the nurse left Brogan to watch over the woman he loved.
“Did you mean what you said?”
Hearing Vera’s voice, when he’d been absolutely certain she was sleeping, startled him enough to jump.
She laughed a little. “Didn’t think I was listening, did you?”
“You are forever surprising me, love.”
Vera slowly, and with a wince of pain, pulled an arm out from under the blanket and slipped her hand in his. Seems they weren’t entirely without sensation.
He raised her hand to his lips and tenderly kissed each finger. “You’ve worried me, Vera. ’Twas a terrifying possibility you wouldn’t wake up.”
“And now that I have?”
“I mean to stay with you as long as you’ll allow it. I mean to do all I can to show you how much I love you.”
“My father is a fugitive from the law,” she warned.
“So is my sister. So am I.”
She paused for the length of a breath. “There are many things I might not be able to do anymore.”
“I did not fall in love with you because you could walk painlessly—or walk at all—or because you could lift boxes or reach high shelves or any such thing. You are and always will be you. And I love you.”
“And I love you,” she said.
“That is very fortuitous.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Loving each other is the greatest foundation for a life together I can think of.”
“A life together?” she repeated on a whisper.
“If you’re in favor,” he said.
She closed her eyes and smiled feebly. “I am decidedly in favor.”
He kissed her, gently on account of her injuries, but with earnest and deep feeling. He’d nearly lost her. He would thank the heavens every day he had her with him.
And he would kiss her every opportunity he had.
by Mr. King
Installment VII
in which Fear becomes Hope and Worry turns to Jubilation!
The creature had disappeared. Vanished. Royston had swung his iron axe, and he knew he had hit his mark. But the moment the cries of agony from the otherworldly monster pierced the air, the beast dissolved into millions of granules of glowing red light before dissipating entirely. Nothing remained. There was no blood, no body, no remnants of a creature that had, for nearly one hundred years, ruled viciously in this area.
In but a moment, he turned to Tallulah. Where was she? Had she emerged unscathed? With the boldness and bravery that would have inspired the poets of old, she had attacked the monster without the needed weaponry, making certain the squire did not fully realize what Royston was preparing to do. They had worked together, taking on a desperate task. But she, far more than he, had been willing to embrace true danger.
“Tallulah?” The shop was not entirely dark, but there was a heaviness in the air that made everything confused and difficult to navigate. He suspected it was the aftereffects of the death of the monster. The feeling would, no doubt, dissipate soon enough. In the meantime, he needed to know she was well and hale.
“Royston?” She spoke from so nearby he was shocked that he couldn’t actually see her. He reached out a hand. His fingers brushed what he was certain were her fingers. “There you are.”
“Is he gone?” she asked, slipping her fingers through his.
“He’s gone, evaporated into tiny particles of glowing red.”
“Do you see his bag?” she asked.
“I cannot see a thing.”
“Search about for it. The bag contains magic of its own and must be burned.”
He dropped down, feeling about on the floor, searching in the darkness. The space was growing less befuddling, but he still felt upended.
“Wait, I found it,” she said. “Let’s go outside. The lingering magic will make this task impossible in here.”
He fumbled, tripped a bit, but made his way outside. She stepped out of the building just as he did, her arms burdened with an enormous burlap bag easily big enough for a person to fit inside.
All around the market cross, villagers spilled from buildings, eyes wide with worry and questions. Kirby stepped from the pub, his bushy white brows pulled with concern.
Royston turned to face them all and, in a ringing voice, declared, “The monster has been defeated. We are free!”
Shouts of jubilation rang out around them, the perfect juxtaposition to the horrible shrieks of an evil monster who had met his demise moments earlier.
“There remains yet one more thing to be done,” Tallulah said. “We must destroy this bag, burn it to ashes.” She dropped the bag on the ground in front of her. It made an enormous lump of rough fabric. “It is the last lingering remnants of his magic. It must not be permitted to remain.”
The villagers needed no encouragement. Torches were lit in the various fires of the establishments all about, from the pub to the mercantile, from the milliner to the butcher. Royston himself slipped into the haberdashery and to the small fire at the back of the shop, and lit a torch of his own.
One by one, those who had been tortured and held hostage by the creature who would have used this bag to steal away every one of them if given a chance, lit it on fire. Again and again, they touched torches to the fabric and added to the growing flame that was consuming it.
The fire spat out flames of purest, deepest red. No smoke emerged. No sparks flew. There was nothing about this fire that was natural. But it was undeniably cleansing.
Royston stood beside Tallulah as the villagers sang and cheered and danced. Their joy changed the glow of the flame from crimson red to a soft pink. Rather than being attacked by the dark magic of the one-time squire, they were being lit by the soft glow of his final demise.