The Angel of Darkness - Caleb Carr [74]
I got up and wandered toward the door. “Yeah,” I mumbled. “It was just an idea …”
She followed me over, again putting her arms around me. “And it was a nice idea—but it ain’t me, Stevie. If it’s a good place for you, that’s fine. But it ain’t me.”
I nodded. “Unh-hunh …”
She turned me to her and put her hands on the sides of my face. “You can come see me sometimes—but you gotta behave. Remember—I’m Ding Dong’s girl, now. Okay?”
“Yeah … okay.” I started to open the door.
“Say.” When I looked back, she was smiling. “Don’t I get a kiss good-bye?”
With some reluctance but more desire, I leaned over to comply; but just as my face was nearing hers, a big drop of blood ran down out of her nostril to her lip. “Dammit!” she said, turning away quickly and wiping at the blood with her sleeve. “That always happens …”
I couldn’t take any more of it. “So long, Kat,” I said, and then I ran out the door. I kept on going, through the bar, past the baiting pit, and finally out onto the street. Kids whose faces I couldn’t make out called to me, but I just kept on moving, faster and faster, near to tears and not wanting anyone to see it.
By the time I stopped running, I was near the Hudson and quickly made for the waterfront, the comforting smell of the river keeping me from breaking down and crying. It was foolish, I told myself, to feel so strongly about Kat’s fate, for it wasn’t like anyone was holding a gun to her head and forcing her to follow the path she was taking. She’d chosen it; and sorry as I might be, it was just plain ridiculous to take it so hard. I must’ve repeated that statement to myself a thousand times as I watched the night boats, ferries, and ships move up, down, and across the waters of the Hudson. But it wasn’t any attempt at being rational that finally mended my spirits; no, it was the sight of the river itself, which always made me feel, somehow, like there was hope. She has that quality, does the Hudson, as I imagine all great rivers do: the deep, abiding sense that those activities what take place on shore among human beings are of the moment, passing, and aren’t the stories by way of which the greater tale of this planet will, in the end, be told….
I finally wandered back into Dr. Kreizler’s house at well past three o’clock and stumbled on up to bed. The Doctor’s study door was open and that of his bedroom was closed, indicating that he might finally be getting some sleep—but then I noted that a dim light was shining out from the crack underneath the bedroom door. As I passed on up the stairs, I saw the light go out; but the Doctor never came out to ask where I’d been or why I was coming in so late. Probably Cyrus had already figured it out and told him, or maybe he was simply respecting my privacy; either way, I was grateful to be able to just get to my room, close the door, and fall onto my bed without any further words.
It wasn’t many hours later that I was woken by fairly violent shaking. I was still in my clothes, and it took me several seconds to come out of a very deep sleep. Cyrus’s voice became identifiable even before his face:
“Stevie! Come on, wake up, we’ve got to go!”
I shot upright, at that, figuring I’d overslept and forgotten to do something, though I couldn’t for the life of me remember what that thing might’ve been. “S’okay,” I said sleepily, cramming my shoes on. “I’ll get the horses—”
“I already have,” Cyrus answered. “Get some fresh clothes on, we’ve got to meet the others.”
“Why?” I said, going for a new shirt in a chest of drawers. “What’s happened?”
“They’ve found out who she is.”
I dropped a handful of clothes on the floor. “You mean—the lady in the sketch?”
“That’s right,” Cyrus answered. “And Miss Howard says there’s plenty of interesting details. We’re meeting them at the museum.” I was still having some trouble with my movements, and Cyrus held a shirt out for me. “Come on, boy, wake up now—you’re driving!”
CHAPTER 14
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