Rebekah's Refuge Read online

  Charles left Angela’s room, clutching the basin. He would continue searching for the one remedy that just might conquer Angela’s illness. He must find the true remedy soon! How much longer could Angela’s pain endure?

  Chapter 12

  “You’re accusing me of trying to poison innocent children?” Frederick turned from the root beer barrel, his face wreathed in foam. The glass he held shook. His heart pounded with fear.

  The policeman shook his head. “I’m merely responding to a tip given by an informant. The informant had no proof of her suspicions, of course. Three days ago, some of the orphans from Periwinkle Terrace were hospitalized with severe stomach cramps, bowel irritation, and vomiting. They’ve since been released, but the symptoms were rather alarming. We feared the Bind Weed plague, of course, and the orphanage is being closely monitored at the moment, although a quarantine has not been issued. I merely wanted to ascertain if you ever gave the orphans food before.”

  Frederick frowned with concern. “I gave the directress a picnic hamper of leftovers. They’d have gone to waste otherwise. I do this regularly. She’s always grateful.”

  The officer’s tense features relaxed a bit. “What was in the basket, might I ask?”

  Frederick shrugged. “There was cold ham, turkey, a loaf of rye bread, and some dressed eggs. I suppose the eggs could have caused those symptoms. But I don’t give the orphans anything that’s over a day old, and I always give them fresh eggs.”

  The policeman nodded. “Did you give them anything else?”

  Frederick nodded. “Some stick candy, raspberry tarts, and cream puffs.” He bowed his head.

  The officer leaned forward, placing his hands on the counter. “Could any type of poison cause Bind Weed Plague symptoms without it being a life-threatening situation?”

  “Wormrack, I suppose. It causes stomach cramps, loose bowels, and vomiting. Occasionally, it causes rashes. If enough is imbibed, it can cause paralysis before death.”

  “Indeed.” The officer gazed at Frederick intently.

  Frederick cleared his throat. “If you’re not here to accuse me, what do you want?”

  The officer smiled. “I’ve eaten here countless times as have my colleagues. I know you, Mr. Ingalsall. You’re a kind man. You wouldn’t intentionally harm anyone, least of all children. What do you know about the directress of Periwinkle Terrace?”

  Frederick blinked. “Doris? She helped my parents to adopt me. Doris is kind and loves children. I only see her when I deliver the food. My father gives her money to help maintain the orphanage.”

  The officer shook his head. “The thing is, Mr. Ingalsall, we’ve been getting reports of strange things happening at Periwinkle Terrace. People coming and going at all hours. Strange lights shining from the basement windows at night. Now strange illnesses. We cannot enter the premises without a search warrant. We were hoping perhaps you might help us by getting Doris to admit her guilt.”

  “Guilt? Of what?”

  The officer shrugged. “Since you obviously didn’t doctor any of the food, someone else did. Obviously, the orphans didn’t do it. The only one who could have done so was Doris. The question is, why?”

  “I don’t know on what pretext I could be welcomed back to the orphanage.”

  “We’ll devise something believable for you to say.” The policeman reached into the folds of his uniform and withdrew a small, leather pouch. “We’ll pay you for your time.”

  Frederick shook his head. “Doris can’t be involved in criminal activity. She’s one of the kindest people I know.” Even as he said this, Frederick felt the ever-present burn of guilt.

  The officer smiled. “Just as you yourself cannot be involved in criminal activity?”

  The ground opened before Frederick’s feet, and his head reeled in panic. “Wh-What do you mean?”

  “As I’ve said, I dine here often. You don’t think I haven’t noticed the man coming every Friday around 3:00? You always give him a cardboard carton.”

  Frederick nodded. “Yes,” he said. “It’s a regular customer. He purchases medicines to help his rheumatism.”

  The officer shook his head. “One of my men intercepted this customer one day after he’d left your store. He was a plainclothesman who made quite an adequate-looking store clerk. He told the man he’d been given the wrong package. The switch was deftly made. When the officer delivered the parcel to the police station, we found that it contained several packets of a deadly poison called wormrack.” The officer’s eyes blazed intently. “The dilemma we’re facing is that reports from Wickson say no more illnesses occurred after that one day last week. The quarantine will be lifted soon. It appears that the Bind Weed Plague has not struck as we originally feared. But, this fact is perhaps more disturbing as it implies deliberate malice. Wormrack is a poison that causes symptoms similar to Bind Weed Plague. It’s odorless and almost undetectable.” He stared at Frederick’s frightened face. “This will go much easier if you cooperate with me, Mr. Ingalsall. You’re not the killer type, are you? So, what exactly were you doing?”

  Sweat sprouted on Frederick’s forehead. He slumped against the counter. “I’ve worked in this drugstore for five years now. On my first week, a little girl came into the drugstore with her father. She was eleven years old, and I was fourteen. I’ll never forget the first thing she ordered as refreshment: a rutabaga cream tonic.” He laughed softly. “A strange request, to say the least! She had such a vibrant smile and was so happy. She and her father came to the store every week at 3:00 in the afternoon. We talked to each other about our families. One day, she—” His voice shook, and he swallowed to try and compose himself. “One day, she and her father did not come. I later learned that her father had died from the plague. The girl’s name was Laura. I haven’t seen her since.” He bowed his head, worrying his lower lip with his teeth. “But, three weeks ago, I received a letter.”

  “Do you still have it?”

  Frederick nodded and reached into the pocket of his trousers. He withdrew a crinkled sheet of paper. The note was not handwritten but was composed of letters someone had cut from a newspaper. The note was short and to the point: IF YOU DO NOT WANT LAURA TO DIE, YOU WILL PROVIDE WORMRACK TO THE MAN WHO CALLS AT YOUR STORE AT 3:00 EVERY FRIDAY. YOU WILL KNOW THE MAN BY THE GIFTS HE GIVES YOU.

  Frederick’s hand shook as he laid the letter on the counter. “I only had to prepare the concoction. A courier came every Friday at 3:00 just as the note said. He always gave me a lock of golden hair and told me that Laura required more headache powders.” He shuddered.

  The officer frowned. “But, that hair could have been taken from any head.”

  “No.” Frederick turned and reached beneath the counter, withdrawing a leather pouch. Inside nestled three withered golden leaves, the sweet scent of golden sap clinging to them. The leaves were in the shape of curling locks. “I knew Laura was a norn when I first met her,” Frederick said with a small smile. “We talked of our families as I told you, and I told her how much my mother loved roses. Laura nodded her head and pulled a single yellow rose from her tresses.” He sighed with regret and pointed to the golden leaves again. “I had to try and keep her safe.” Frederick choked on a sob and clenched his fists in fury. “I read in the paper about the panic that had broken out at Wickson and of the quarantine. I knew that the wormrack was being used to hurt innocent people.” He reached to wipe the sweat from his brow. It felt as if a load of bricks had been lifted from his chest. “I told the courier the other day that I would no longer be a part of this work.”

  The policeman nodded sympathetically. “The letter has no address or signature of any kind,” he said, “but we believe Doris is behind the attack.”

  Frederick frowned. “Why? What possible reason could she have for hurting—”

  “We don’t know,” the officer said, “but, do you remember hearing about the Bind Weed Project some years ago?”

  Frederick nodded sadly. “When norns were taken by the gov
ernment and placed in cages,” he said. “They were given injections tainted with strains of the Bind Weed Plague.” He shuddered.

  The officer nodded, an expression of disgust on his face. “The hope was that the norns could produce an antidote to the plague that would be contained in plants they created from their hair. Salads made from the created plants could then be fed to those afflicted with the plague to cure them.” He shook his head angrily. “Naturally, the project failed. The experiments had the opposite effect. The norns were released and their families recompensated, but the damage had been done. Certain norns were now carriers of the plague, and although they exhibited no symptoms themselves, people feared they could spread the disease to others.” He bowed his head. “Our world has a lot to answer for, doesn’t it?”

  Frederick nodded. “But what does this have to do with Doris?”

  The officer frowned. “We don’t have enough evidence to prove this, but we have reason to believe she was related to one of the norns who was imprisoned.” He shook his head sadly. “Some norns did not survive the experiments, I’m afraid. We fear she holds a grudge and wants vengeance. As I say, there’s no proof of this. Your cooperation in this matter would be most appreciated.”

  Frederick surveyed the modest drugstore and thought of the effervescent norn who had ordered rutabaga cream tonic and of the rose she had created for his mother. He thought of another norn he had recently met and how like Laura she was. He had never intended to hurt anyone. The norn he had met the other day had reminded him so much of Laura. Wait. Hadn’t that girl’s name been Laura, too? He approached the officer. His voice was strong when he said, “I’ll help you if I can.”

  Chapter 13

  Tabitha heard the singing in her dreams; a thin rivulet of melody that heralded an even bigger song if she could just find its source. She knew that voice. “Rebekah,” she whispered. The child whom she loved with every fiber of her being. Her sister’s namesake.

  Tabitha had heard nothing of her sister for years. In that time, she had cared for an infant girl Rebekah had rescued during the Bind Weed Project. Tabitha loved the child with all her heart, even though the child had not had a name. Tabitha had named her daughter Rebekah to honor her sister.

  Now Tabitha listened earnestly to her daughter’s song. It seemed so far away. She tried to join her voice with Rebekah’s. But she was so very weak. Slowly, she sat up and felt her head. No hair grew there. She tried to stand, but her limbs would not budge. She tried to speak, but her throat was paralyzed.

  “Tonight’s the night.” Her captor trudged into the tower room, his features haggard. “You have served a worthy purpose. Now I must send you away.” He held a tumbler in his heavily-veined hand.

  Tabitha sighed wearily. “What more can you take from me?” she said, or tried to say. The words would not come.

  Charles sadly surveyed the bald norn. “The one willing sacrifice I had gave me everything.”

  Tabitha turned her head away from the man in disgust. He knew nothing about sacrifice.

  Charles approached her and gently placed his hand behind her head. “Rebekah was so kind,” he said, his voice trembling with unshed tears. “Yet she could not save my wife. So many sacrifices, and yet the same result.”

  Rebekah? Had he said the name Rebekah? Tabitha desperately tried to speak but could not. She felt the accursed tumbler press forcefully against her lips. She choked on the sweet, cloying drink that was being poured down her throat. Burning tears trickled down her cheeks, and she finally fell backward onto the soft bed, sleep enshrouding her with gleeful force.

  ***

  Charles strode to the window of the tower room and opened it. “The sacrifice is ready for transport,” he said flatly. He reached into the folds of his garment and withdrew a rope. Charles tied the rope around Tabitha’s frail waist, leaving ample rope for the person waiting outside to grab. He lowered the rope through the window, feeling it tug in response as the transporter retrieved the norn to carry her away.

  Charles sighed wearily. Now to find another sacrifice. The norns always left his house alive though weakened. What happened to them after that he didn’t know. He only knew that his sacrifices were taken to a place where they could regain their strength. Then they were released back to their families. Laboriously, he began to tidy up the room. Perhaps it would be best to wait a day or two before collecting the woman’s daughter. He was so tired, and he needed some rest. He had given Angela some salad only last night. Of course, with the recent episode, one couldn’t know if the salad’s pain-killing effects would last long.

  Charles sighed and left the room. He would lie down for a bit and then determine what to do.

  ***

  “Place her here.” Doris gestured to a crate-like contraption made of weathered wood studded with iron. This cage was larger than the other ones crowded around the basement’s walls. There were seven cages in all.

  The weary-featured man nodded and placed the unconscious norn into the cage. He surveyed the crowded basement. “Can’t hold many more, can it?” he growled.

  Doris shrugged, the carnation on her straw hat swaying. “I’ll make more room when necessary.” She thrust a leather pouch of gabricks into the man’s hand and smiled coyly at him. “I’m so glad your fear has subsided. You needn’t have worried about being caught, you know. I’m glad I was able to put your fears at ease and that you returned so willingly to your work.” She reached out a hand and caressed his arm. Some peoples’ fears were so easily assuaged. A tea made from an unknown plant designed to make a person forget was all that was necessary to bend certain people to your will. Of course, this plan did not always work, but this man was clay in her hands. “There’s gingerbread, cider, and coffee upstairs,” she said. “The children have been hard at work baking today.” She laughed. “You’d think after their recent illness they’d avoid food. However, children are quite resilient, aren’t they? If I teach them nothing else, I’ll teach them to thrive in this harsh world.” She shook her head, an indefinable expression flitting across her face. “I myself had to learn that lesson.” She paused for a moment and then said, “You’ve brought the extra syringes?”

  The man nodded and turned away from the seven cages. “I’d best be going,” he said.

  Doris shrugged. “I’ll be in touch.”

  The man took his leave, and Doris approached the newest prisoner. She withdrew a syringe from her pocket and examined the woman’s frail arm. Many veins crisscrossed the brittle skin. Carefully, Doris plunged the syringe into the norn’s thin arm, injecting the special serum she had invented herself. The norn’s eyes opened, and she desperately tried to move. “No use struggling, my sister,” Doris said in an oddly gentle voice. “You’ll serve my purpose whether you want to or not. You’ll help me whenever I call to you. Together, we will work wonders upon this world.” She examined the woman and smiled as she watched the first tufts of hair sprout on the norn’s head. This hair was golden but of a darker hue. Doris smiled and reached to finger the carnation on her straw hat. She did not remove her head covering. There was no need. Soon enough, she thought. Soon, the norns would create, and their creations would be decidedly different from paltry flowers. Soon, the world would be made new, and Doris would be avenged on those who had caused her so much pain.

  Chapter 14

  “Rebekah?”

  Rebekah turned from the window. Her head ached, and she felt so fatigued. She’d sang all night. Rebekah was becoming more and more afraid. The thread of melody she’d always heard from Mother was still audible, but it was fragmented and brittle now. She had to find Mother soon.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m going to the bakery across the street,” Martha informed her. “We need some bread, and I might fetch some pastries as well. You must stay here.”

  Rebekah flinched. “Please, Martha. Please don’t lock me in this room. I won’t do anything wrong.”

  Martha sighed. “It’s not a question of your doing anything w
rong. It’s a concern for your safety. You know this.” Her weary voice cracked with pain.

  “I’m not Laura!” Rebekah said, trying to keep her voice controlled but failing miserably. “I’m sorry about what happened to her. Truly I am. But, wouldn’t she have disliked being confined? You promised to help me find my mother. How can I find her if I’m locked in here?”

  There was a heavy silence. Finally, Martha said, “You may come with me. It takes time to find people, you know. But, I understand your need to look for her. I’ll keep searching for Laura until my dying day or until I hear definite news.”

  Rebekah bowed her head. She reached for Martha’s arm, allowing the woman to lead her from the house.

  ***

  The bakery teemed with a multitude of customers. The scents of cinnamon, chocolate, and yeasty dough filled the air. Frederick sat at a table, surveying his surroundings. The baker gestured to him from behind the counter. “Your order is ready, sir.”

  Frederick stood and walked as nonchalantly as he could to the counter. The baker handed him a large box. “Three dozen cream puffs. That’ll be twenty gabricks.”

  Frederick nodded and handed over the money. “Thought the children at Periwinkle Terrace might enjoy a treat,” he said.

  The baker blinked in surprise. “You haven’t heard? The orphanage isn’t accepting food donations at the moment. Some to-do about an illness.”

  “Oh?” Frederick tried not to fidget. “How awful! Nothing serious, I hope.”

  “Ach! That beak-nosed directress is too overprotective, if you ask me. You know her, I suppose? Wears a great ugly hat all the time? She brings those children by here on their afternoon walks. Think she ever lets ‘em come inside? No! And them poor kids pressing their noses against the glass practically salivatin’, too!” He frowned. “She comes in here sometimes by herself but only buys two jelly doughnuts. I sometimes put a few extras in her bag in hopes the children will get them, but I imagine she eats them all herself.”