Jenny Plague-Bringer

Chapter Fourteen



Fallen Oak was a large, thriving town, with a tall brick cotton exchange, a crowded stockyard, and a textile mill, plus a large Postal Telegraph Company office and a railroad spur connecting the town to the rest of the world. As they rode through in the detective’s Ford Model 18, Juliana and Sebastian sat in the back seat, looking out at the busy little downtown, full of shops, with a two-story department store on one corner. The courthouse had a marble facade engraved with the figure of Justice, blindfolded and wielding a sword, overlooking a neatly manicured town green with a bandstand. There was also a sparkling white Baptist church on the central square, facing the green. Despite the Depression, Fallen Oak seemed to be bustling and growing.

“Looks like such a pleasant place to live,” Juliana commented.

“We should bring the carnival,” Sebastian said. “These people seem like they have money to spare.”

Juliana laughed. “You’re thinking like a carnie already.”

They drove eastward out of the downtown, past fields of cotton. Thin, hungry-looking black laborers in patched clothing worked the fields under the scorching sunlight. They didn’t seem to be receiving too much of the town’s swelling prosperity.

They arrived at a three-story mansion on a hill, largely obscured behind ornamental trees, the entire property protected by a tall, spiked wrought-iron fence. The detective pulled up to the locked front gate, reached out the window, and rang a bell on a rope.

“This is where we’re going?” Sebastian asked, amazed. “This Jonathan Barrett must have heaps of dough.”

“I told you that,” the detective replied. “You should listen to his offer.”

“What will he offer us?” Juliana asked.

“I wouldn’t know.”

A gray-haired black man in a dark suit and high, starched collar opened the gate for them, and the detective drove up the brick driveway to park in the circular turnaround, centered on a flower garden and a water fountain. The driveway was flanked by ornamental gardens full of more blossoming, cheerfully bright flowers. Towards the sides of the house, the flower beds turned into kitchen and herb gardens.

The man who’d opened the gate glanced at Sebastian and Juliana, then nodded at the detective.

“He’s expecting us,” the detective said.

“Yes, he is. This way.” The man led them up the front steps and opened the heavy front door. They entered a two-story entrance hall dominated by a massive granite fireplace that lay cold and dark. The room was paneled in dark oak, and heavy draperies blocked the large windows. A wide Persian rug occupied the parquet floor, and a grand staircase circled up along the wall to the second story. A few candles burned in the glittering crystal chandelier overhead, but the room was left in darkness and shadows. Juliana felt as though she’d stepped into a massive, finely appointed tomb.

They followed the man deeper into the house as the front hall narrowed and darkened. The place didn’t smell like a tomb, at least—it smelled like baking bread, green vegetables, and spices. Juliana’s mouth watered. In these difficult times, she was lucky to eat one meal a day.

The servant led them straight through to the enormous back porch, shaded by the equally large veranda above it. A fine dining table had been set out, with a dozen hand-carved wooden chairs facing a dozen place settings with spotless white china and silver.

The long dining table was empty except for a man who sat at the head. He wore a black suit with a white silk shirt, tailored perfectly to his lean, fit body. He was immaculately groomed, like a king, every hair in place, his fingernails spotless, his golden cufflinks glittering. Two very dark-skinned young women in skimpy dresses waved large paper fans, which cooled him from the South Carolina heat and blew away the countless tiny insects that swarmed in the air.

Juliana had a strong visceral reaction when his dark, deep eyes looked at her. It wasn’t clearly a good or bad feeling—it was delicious and guilty at the same time, like the times when she’d let Sebastian reach his hand under her dress.

“This is Jonathan Barrett,” the detective told them. “Mr. Barrett, those kids I’ve been looking for. Sebastian, Juliana. Those are their stage names, anyhow.”

“You’ve brought my guests. Good work,” Jonathan Barrett said, rising from his chair. He looked over Juliana and Sebastian, then gestured to chairs on his left side. “Just in time for dinner, too. Please sit, both of you. Are you hungry?”

Juliana nodded. The answer to that was always “yes.”

“They’ll serve you in the dining room, if you’d like anything,” Barrett told the detective, who tipped his hat and returned inside. Barrett looked them over again, slowly, as if absorbing them into the darkness in his eyes. “Did you have a good journey?”

Sebastian and Juliana looked at each other, neither wanting to speak first.

“It was good,” Sebastian finally said. “I’ve never ridden in such a fast automobile.”

“Excellent.” As Barrett spoke, two large, much older black women brought out food in such copious amounts that Juliana could have drooled all over the table. A basket of puffy rolls the size of her fist, a cake of cornbread, a pot of boiled greens with peppers, slabs of ham preserved in salt. They filled wineglasses with a strange orange-colored drink. Barrett raised a glass of it. “I should warn you, this punch is made with real Caribbean rum, nearly impossible to find with the absurd dry laws. We add the juice of watermelons and peaches grown right here.” He nodded out to the sprawling land beyond the back porch.

The back yard sloped down to a peach orchard with small irrigation canals, where workers were picking the last fruits of the season. Beyond that, a hill rose up behind the house, where some kind of construction was underway. Juliana squinted her eyes, trying to see better. It looked like they were erecting a brick wall around several rows of tall, thick granite columns. She couldn’t fathom what they were building. It clearly wasn’t a barn or a smokehouse; the materials were far too heavy and expensive. A church, maybe.

“My family necropolis,” Barrett said, with a sharp smile. Juliana found the smile unsettling and strangely appealing. The man radiated an aura of power, as if his presence charged the air around him with electricity.

“What is a necro...necro...one of those?” Sebastian asked. His eyes kept darting from Barrett to the plate in front of him, which one of the women was piling with freshly cooked food. Clearly, Sebastian was struggling not to grab up the meal by the double handfuls and cram it into his mouth.

“Are you familiar at all with Egyptology?” Barrett asked, looking from Sebastian to Juliana. They both shook their heads. “It’s a fascination of mine. An indulgence, really. The study of such ancient civilizations. How do you suppose they built those pyramids, so many thousands of years ago, without the benefit of modern industry? It seems impossible.”

“One rock at a time, I suppose,” Juliana said, which earned her a powerful smile from Barrett.

“True. All things must be built that way, mustn’t they, from the humblest home to the widest empire.” Barrett cut a slice of ham, which Juliana and Sebastian took as the signal to start eating as fast as they dared. The food tasted even more delicious than it smelled. Juliana knew they would both eat until they were ready to burst, and then try to smuggle more home with them for later. She’d never had such a bountiful meal placed before her.

“What impresses me about the Egyptians was the scale of their ambition,” Barrett said. “A pyramid hundreds of feet high, just to serve as a tomb for a single king. They outfitted them with everything the king would need in the afterlife. Gold, food, clothing, servants....They believed all of this went with them to the other world.”

“Sounds expensive,” Sebastian said.

“If they wanted to destroy a dead pharaoh’s soul, they destroyed any image of him, every painting and statue. They struck out his name wherever it was carved. Removed him from history, as though he had never existed.”

“There’s an Egyptian strong man in the carnival,” Sebastian told him, biting into a floury biscuit. “Cheopus the Magnificent. Shaved head, pony tail. He can bend bars of iron.”

“He’s not really Egyptian,” Juliana said.

“I don’t think the bars are really iron, either.” Sebastian sipped the rum punch. “This is so good. Try it, Juliana.”

Juliana took a drink. It was so sweet she could barely taste the rum. It was cool, too, probably from sitting in an icebox somewhere. She nodded and smiled. “I’ll have to be careful not to drink too much.”

“Drink too much? Such a thing is not possible.” Barrett raised his glass and took a long drink.

“Mr. Barrett, sir.” A middle-aged black woman emerged onto the porch, with a scrawny, big-eyed white boy of six or seven clinging to her skirt. “Jonathan Junior wants to go and see the pigs.”

“The pigs!” Barrett glared at his little son, who tried to hide behind the big woman. “Are you sure you don’t want to see the horses instead?”

The boy shook his head, not saying a word. He looked scared.

“Pigs!” Barrett shook his head. “Go roll in the mud and be a swine. What else are you good for?”

The boy looked like he would cry as the woman led him away.

“Scared of horses, scared of goats, scared of his own shadow.” Barrett shook his head.

“Is there a Mrs. Barrett?” Juliana asked. Sebastian looked at her as if he didn’t like the sound of that question.

“She’s upstairs, not feeling well. She had to take laudanum.”

“Is she sick?” Juliana asked.

“She gets sick if she doesn’t take her laudanum,” Barrett said. “I’ve lost my appetite, and it’s time we talk about why you’re here.” He stood and walked past them into the house. Juliana and Sebastian waited until he was out of sight, then crammed their pockets full of biscuits and salted ham before following him.

Barrett’s study was a spacious room at the back of the first floor, the walls hung with animal heads: a lion, a wolf, a leopard, and a jaguar, among others, all of them angled so that they seemed to snarl at visitors as they entered the room. A wall of wooden filing cabinets and pigeonholes ended at a 19th-century, saloon-style liquor cabinet in the back corner. The black petrified-wood slab of his desk held a heavy Comptometer mechanical calculator, as well as a telephone and a teletypewriter.

Barrett sat behind his desk, checking a printout. He quickly put it aside when they entered, and he directed the older black man from the front gate, who stood at his elbow, toward the liquor cabinet.

“I have Canadian whiskey,” he said to Sebastian. “Like one?”

“Yes, thanks.”

“I would, too,” Juliana added.

“A woman who drinks whiskey,” Barrett said. “I’m starting to like you already.”

Juliana did her best not to blush at his smile.

The older man poured the illegal drink into three very old, handmade glasses. He placed a cigar box on Barrett’s desk, gave the man a cigar, and lit it for him with a match.

“Cuban tobacco.” Barrett smiled as the smoke curled out of his lips. “At least they still allow us some indulgences. Have one.” Barrett nodded at Sebastian, who reached for a cigar, then sat awkwardly as the servant lit it for him. He coughed miserably at the smoke. Barrett smiled at Juliana again. “Does the lady smoke cigars, too?”

“She does not,” Juliana replied, giving him a coy smile she did not actually intend. She didn’t know where it came from. Sebastian regarded her over his smoldering cigar—he’d clearly seen it.

Barrett made a slight gesture with his cigar, and his servant left the study, closing the door behind him.

“To the future,” Barrett said, raising the glass. Juliana and Sebastian joined the toast, though they weren’t sure exactly what he meant by it, and then they drank. The Canadian whiskey had bite, but was much smoother than most of the liquor she’d tasted, like moonshine and bathtub gin. She tried not to let the men see her shudder as the whiskey kicked her in the stomach.

“Mr. Barrett, what is it that you do?” Sebastian asked, looking around the office, which was an odd mix of bland accounting décor and African safari.

“For work? Just tedious things. Farming, banking, shipping. The grunt work of civilization, really, but it must be done. I won’t bore valued guests with such talk.” He puffed his cigar and stood, looking out over the sill of one of the room’s high windows, which left the lower half of the room in shadow. “Egyptology is not my only avocation, nor is it my primary one. I do share with the pharaohs an interest in legacy, a desire to leave a sizable mark on the world before I pass on. My own little piece of immortality.

“That town down the hill is my playground. My family has been here since the beginning. Soon, we’ll have paved roads and a modern water system. We’re even digging a reservoir, with a little pocket money from the Roosevelt administration. The town will grow into a city. It’s well-positioned, right at the crossing of two of the busiest roads in the area. People have been meeting and trading here for two centuries. Now the telegraph line from Charleston runs right through Fallen Oak and on to Columbia, where it hooks into the main New York-New Orleans line. Add that to our railroad spur and our cotton exchange, and we’re looking at a prosperous future.”

He sat down, facing them again, and had more whiskey. “But that’s small-time, isn’t it? Just a little personal project of mine, this town. I’m involved in much larger things. Have you ever heard of the International Human Evolution Congress?”

Juliana and Sebastian shook their heads.

“I have the quarterly newsletter here somewhere,” Barrett said, but he made no move to find it among the stacks of papers on his desk. “It’s an organization of men influential in academia and the sciences, as well as simple business folk like me. We are committed to improvement of the human species. Already, our research has led to public health policies implemented by states like Virginia and California. The recently elected government in Germany has embraced our work enthusiastically, and is committed to funding and advancing our research.”

Juliana just nodded. She and Sebastian had little idea of what was happening in a place as exotic and distant as Europe. Or even California, for that matter.

“What kind of policies?” Sebastian asked. “In Virginia and California?”

“Most of our work focuses on identifying and combating genetic disorders,” Barrett told them. “For the benefit of posterity. On the other end of the spectrum, though, is the truly interesting work, and that’s where the two of you fit in. We are constantly searching for those who possess, not disorders, but supernormal DNA. Those at the forward edge of human evolution. We want to encourage the progress of humanity.”

“Encourage how?” Juliana asked. She sipped the whiskey again. Her head was starting to grow cloudy with the rum and whiskey, but the liquor also emboldened her to talk and ask questions.

“First, through research. We must understand how humanity is evolving and what new abilities might be emerging. The many talented scientists in our organization would be eager to study the two of you...provided that your powers are genuine, and my detective has not simply been fooled by your carnival tricks.”

“You want to know if we’re genuine?” Juliana smirked drunkenly and stripped the ratty cotton glove from her left hand. The open air felt cool on her sweaty fingers. “Watch me.”

As Barrett watched, Juliana summoned up the demon plague within her, causing blisters and welts to erupt all over her exposed hand. They dripped blood and pus onto Barrett’s petrified desk.

“Does that look genuine to you?” Juliana asked him, her voice sharp and challenging. The drink had her riled up, and she was ready to fight with someone.

“It appears genuine, of course,” Barrett replied.

“I can infect you, if you like.” Juliana reached across the desk toward him.

“Juliana, don’t!” Sebastian pulled her back.

“What? You can just heal him,” Juliana said.

“I’d rather not be the test monkey for this one, thank you,” Barrett replied. He walked past them, cracked open the door, and whispered to someone outside—the older male servant, Juliana assumed. Barrett returned to his seat and smiled at Juliana, saying nothing.

After a minute, the servant led the detective into the study.

“Good,” Barrett said. “Now, don’t open that door again until I specifically call for you. Understand?”

The older man nodded and quickly left again, closing the door.

“What’s the problem?” the detective asked.

“No problem yet, Emil,” Barrett told him. “Roll up your sleeve and hold out your hand.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Just a quick test,” Barrett replied, nodding at Juliana.

The detective shook his head, moving out of Juliana’s reach. “Not me. Test her on one of your Negroes!”

“And have them whispering about sorcery and witchcraft for years to come? I don’t believe I will. Hold out your hand,” Barrett insisted again. “If they’re just grifters, she won’t hurt you. And if they’re truly supernormal, the boy will heal you right away. You’re risking nothing. And I insist that you do it. On behalf of the entire association.”

The detective glared at him. “This will cost you extra.”

“I assumed that much,” Barrett replied.

The detective looked among them. Gritting his teeth, he shrugged off his coat and rolled up the sleeve of his left arm, then he looked at Juliana.

“Can you keep it small?” the detective asked her. “Don’t turn me into a leper like you did the preacher. I’ve heard the horror stories from people who were there.”

“I’ll keep it small.” Juliana giggled drunkenly. She reached her bare hand toward him, then touched her index finger to his forearm. She dragged her finger down toward his wrist, and dark sores opened in the wake of her touch.

The detective shouted and jerked his arm away from her. “It’s real,” he told Barrett. “Oh, God, it’s real. You! Fix it!” He held his diseased arm in Sebastian’s face.

“Wait,” Barrett said. He stood and leaned over his desk, reaching cautiously toward the infected arm. “Is it contagious?”

“Only if you touch me.” Juliana gave him an intoxicated smile and offered her hand. “Want to try?”

“No, thank you.” Barrett inspected the sores on the detective’s arm, then looked at Sebastian and nodded. Sebastian made all the sores vanish with a sweep of his hand, and the detective sighed, his eyes half-closing in pleasure at the sensation of being healed. Then he shook his head, as if coming to his senses, and glared at Barrett.

“Are we done?” the detective asked.

“Remarkable,” Barrett said. “But it could still be a trick.”

“It’s no trick. That hurt,” the detective told him. “Like my arm was on fire.”

“Good. But before I can recommend them for our research program, I’ll need to try just one more test.” Barrett opened his desk drawer and took out a revolver.

“Hell, no!” The detective hurried toward the door as Barrett raised the gun and fired. The bullet struck the detective in the left shoulder, and the man howled and tumbled to his knees. He leaned against the wall, screaming and bleeding.

Barrett turned to Sebastian, grinning as he pointed the smoking gun at him. “Well? Are you going to do anything about it?”

Sebastian rose from his chair, looking warily at the gun in Barrett’s hand, and walked backwards holding up his hands until he reached the suffering detective crumpled in the corner. He touched the man’s head and closed his eyes. The detective stopped screaming and gave another contented sigh as the healing energy flowed through him.

The detective stood up, looking healthier than they’d ever seen him, with a kind of golden glow to his flesh. Sebastian had touched him long enough to heal him fully—not just the immediate damage to his arm, but any other health problems the man might have possessed, down to the slightest headache. The detective gave Sebastian a big, goofy smile, which looked completely out of place on the gruff man.

“Congratulations, Emil,” Barrett told the detective. “It seems you’ve found two supernormals for us. As agreed, that’s a hundred-dollar bonus for each.”

“Good.” The detective looked Sebastian over again before turning to Barrett. “Now you’re done with me, Mr. Barrett?”

“Don’t leave just yet,” Barrett told him. “You can wait in the library, or the parlor, or the music room. Have my colored girls play piano for you, they know an extraordinary range of songs. They listen to all the newest phonographs. Are you a jazz man?”

“I’ll find my way.” The detective tipped his hat as he left.

Barrett smiled at Juliana and Sebastian, who simply gaped at him in shock, Juliana gripping the arms of her chair, Sebastian frozen in the corner. After a moment, Barrett seemed to notice the revolver still in his hand, and he put it away in his desk drawer as he returned to his high-backed chair.

“Sebastian, feel free to join us,” Barrett said, gesturing at the empty chair. “I am sorry for all the drama, but I had to be sure before I could send you on.”

“Send us on to where?” Juliana asked, while Sebastian cautiously sat beside her again.

“Tell me something. Have you ever wished to understand your powers? To gain greater control of them?” Barrett asked. “What about you, Juliana?”

“That’s why I went to the revival,” Juliana said. “I thought the preacher could heal me. I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“But he couldn’t heal you,” Barrett said.

“No, it was Sebastian that had the healing touch, even though he was just the assistant. And he couldn’t heal me. But his power protects him, so he’s the only person who can touch me without getting infected.” She took Sebastian’s hand.

“Isn’t that a pity?” Barrett asked. “A pretty girl like you should be free to touch anyone she likes.”

“That’s all I want,” Juliana said. “I want to know how to make it stop, so I don’t hurt anybody. Unless I need to hurt them.”

Barrett laughed. “And that’s what I’m offering you. The chance to finally have your abilities studied scientifically. To give you both the greatest possible understanding and control.”

“You’re saying I’ll be able to go through life without infecting anyone?” Juliana asked.

“I’m saying that you have the opportunity to be studied by the finest scientific minds in Europe. Physicians, biologists, geneticists, even physicists. You will never again have a chance like this. If it is possible for you to turn off your ability, Juliana, they will discover the means.”

Juliana felt her heart pounding. It was exactly what she’d been searching for all her life. She looked at Sebastian, but he didn’t seem so excited.

“Europe?” Sebastian asked.

“If you agree, I will send the both of you to Berlin, where some of today’s greatest scientists live. I mentioned that the German government is now sponsoring research programs in collaboration with the International Human Evolution Congress, as many high German officials are already members of our group. They will provide comfortable accommodations and all living expenses. And they will apply modern science to understanding your supernormal abilities.”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to be studied like that. It could be...strange.” Sebastian shook his head.

“Sebastian.” Juliana squeezed his hand tightly. “You don’t understand what it’s like for me. Your touch is good for people. Mine...I can’t continue living like this, avoiding everyone, always afraid of killing anyone who comes near me. My whole life has been a nightmare. If this could end all of it, then I need to do it, Sebastian.”

She and Barrett both looked at Sebastian, but he seemed at a loss for words.

“The girl’s right,” Barrett said. “This is a necessity for her.”

“And I don’t want to go all the way to Europe without you,” Juliana said. “Please. I need you.”

Sebastian looked at the floor and rubbed his temple, as if thinking it over was a strain on him.

“You don’t have to decide immediately, of course,” Barrett said. “Take the day to think it over. You can stay here, eat, drink, listen to music, walk the gardens, and let me know your answer in the morning. If you decide not to do it, we can have you working at the carnival again by tomorrow night. If that’s what you’d rather do with your life.” He reached for the telephone. “Now, I have some of that boring old bank business to cope with. Make yourselves at home. I’ll have the staff prepare rooms for you upstairs. If you see the detective, tell him he can go. We’ll make other arrangements if you decide to rejoin the freak show tomorrow.” Barrett placed the earpiece of the phone by his head and began talking to the operator.

Juliana clutched Sebastian’s hand as they left the room, her mind swirling with excitement and fear. She knew that getting control of the demon plague was the right thing to do, and the only way she could ever hope to be a good person, but the idea of being examined in a laboratory day after day terrified her. If Sebastian was with her, that would make it all bearable. Without him, she would be alone, with no one who understood her.

Without speaking, they walked outside into the gardens, toward the peach orchard and the elaborate graveyard under construction. They didn’t speak for a while. Both of them had plenty to think about.