[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
shortly. "After that
I worked on the docks, loading crates and boxes. Sometimes I skinned and gutted fish, or shoveled
manure and hauled it from stableyards to the wharf. I never knew what a bath was." Sliding a glance at
her, he grinned at her expression. "Stank until
even the flies wouldn't come near me."
"Oh, my," she said faintly.
"Sometimes I mudlarked stole cargo from the waterside, sold it under the table to crooked merchants.
I wasn't much different from the other lads in the rookery. All of us did what was necessary to survive.
But there was one . .. Jem was his name ...
a scrawny boy with a face like a monkey. One day I noticed he was doing better than the rest. He had a
thick coat to wear,
food to fill his belly with, even a wench on his arm now and again. I went up to him and asked where he
was getting his money." His face changed, becoming coarse and hard, all trace of handsomeness wiped
away. "Jem told me. On his advice, I decided to try my hand at the resurrection business."
"You ... joined a church?" Sara asked, bewildered.
Derek gave her a startled look and then began to choke with laughter. When she asked what was the
matter, he actually
doubled over, gasping for breath. "No, no ..." After dragging a sleeve over his eyes, he was finally able to
control himself.
"I was a bone-grubber," he explained.
"I don't understand "
"A grave-robber. I dug up corpses from cemeteries and sold them to medical students." A peculiar smile
crossed his lips.
"You're surprised, aren't you? And revolted."
"I ..." Sara tried to sort through her scattered thoughts. "I can't say I f-find the thought very pleasant."
"No. It was far from a pleasant business. But I'm a very good thief, Miss Fielding. Jem used to say I
could steal the twinkle
from the devil's eye. I was a good resurrection man efficient, dependable. I averaged three a night."
"Three what?"
"Bodies. By law, surgeons and medical students can only use the corpses of convicted felons. But there's
never enough to go around. So they paid me to go to burial grounds near hospitals and asylums and bring
them the newest corpses I could find.
The surgeons always called them 'specimens'."
"How long did this go on?" Sara asked with a horrified shiver.
"Almost two years until I began to look like the corpses I stole. Pale, scrawny, like walking death. I
slept during the day
and only went out at night. I never worked when the moon was full. Too much light. There was always a
danger of being
shot by groundskeepers, who naturally didn't look kindly on the business. When I couldn't go about my
work, I would sit in a
corner of the local tavern and drink as much as my belly would hold, and try to forget about what I'd
been doing. I was a superstitious sort. Having disturbed many an eternal rest, I began to think I was
being haunted."
He spoke in a flat voice, as if he were talking about something that had no connection with him. Sara
noticed that his color
was high. Embarrassment, self-disgust, anger ... She could only guess at the emotions that stirred within
him. Why was he confessing such personal and unspeakable things to her?
"I think I was dead inside," he said. "Or at least only half-human. But the money kept me going back,
until I had a nightmare
that put a stop to it all. I never set foot near another graveyard after that."
"Tell me," Sara said softly, but he shook his head.
"After my resurrection days I turned to other ways of making a profit all of them nearly as unsavory.
But not quite.
Nothing's as bad as what I did. Not even murder."
He was quiet then. The moon was veiled by clouds, the sky painted in muted tones of gray and violet.
Once it might have been
the kind of night he had gone out to desecrate graveyards. As she stared at the man next to her, his hair
gleaming like ebony in
the lamplight, Sara realized that her heart was pounding and her palms were clammy. Cold perspiration
trickled down her back
and beneath her arms. He was right she was revolted by the things he had done. And without a doubt
there was more he
hadn't told her.
She struggled with many feelings at once, trying to understand him, trying most of all not to fear him. How
terribly naive she
had been. She would never have imagined him capable of such terrible things. The families of his victims,
how they must have suffered and it could just as well have been her family, her relatives. He was
responsible for causing pain to many people.
Had someone described such a man to her, she would have said that he was beyond redemption.
But... he wasn't completely bad. He had come after her tonight, fearing for her safety. He had refused to
take advantage of
her at the club, when there had been nothing to stop him but the remnants of his own conscience. Just
now when she had been crying, he had been kind and gentle. Sara shook her head in consternation, not
knowing what to think. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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shortly. "After that
I worked on the docks, loading crates and boxes. Sometimes I skinned and gutted fish, or shoveled
manure and hauled it from stableyards to the wharf. I never knew what a bath was." Sliding a glance at
her, he grinned at her expression. "Stank until
even the flies wouldn't come near me."
"Oh, my," she said faintly.
"Sometimes I mudlarked stole cargo from the waterside, sold it under the table to crooked merchants.
I wasn't much different from the other lads in the rookery. All of us did what was necessary to survive.
But there was one . .. Jem was his name ...
a scrawny boy with a face like a monkey. One day I noticed he was doing better than the rest. He had a
thick coat to wear,
food to fill his belly with, even a wench on his arm now and again. I went up to him and asked where he
was getting his money." His face changed, becoming coarse and hard, all trace of handsomeness wiped
away. "Jem told me. On his advice, I decided to try my hand at the resurrection business."
"You ... joined a church?" Sara asked, bewildered.
Derek gave her a startled look and then began to choke with laughter. When she asked what was the
matter, he actually
doubled over, gasping for breath. "No, no ..." After dragging a sleeve over his eyes, he was finally able to
control himself.
"I was a bone-grubber," he explained.
"I don't understand "
"A grave-robber. I dug up corpses from cemeteries and sold them to medical students." A peculiar smile
crossed his lips.
"You're surprised, aren't you? And revolted."
"I ..." Sara tried to sort through her scattered thoughts. "I can't say I f-find the thought very pleasant."
"No. It was far from a pleasant business. But I'm a very good thief, Miss Fielding. Jem used to say I
could steal the twinkle
from the devil's eye. I was a good resurrection man efficient, dependable. I averaged three a night."
"Three what?"
"Bodies. By law, surgeons and medical students can only use the corpses of convicted felons. But there's
never enough to go around. So they paid me to go to burial grounds near hospitals and asylums and bring
them the newest corpses I could find.
The surgeons always called them 'specimens'."
"How long did this go on?" Sara asked with a horrified shiver.
"Almost two years until I began to look like the corpses I stole. Pale, scrawny, like walking death. I
slept during the day
and only went out at night. I never worked when the moon was full. Too much light. There was always a
danger of being
shot by groundskeepers, who naturally didn't look kindly on the business. When I couldn't go about my
work, I would sit in a
corner of the local tavern and drink as much as my belly would hold, and try to forget about what I'd
been doing. I was a superstitious sort. Having disturbed many an eternal rest, I began to think I was
being haunted."
He spoke in a flat voice, as if he were talking about something that had no connection with him. Sara
noticed that his color
was high. Embarrassment, self-disgust, anger ... She could only guess at the emotions that stirred within
him. Why was he confessing such personal and unspeakable things to her?
"I think I was dead inside," he said. "Or at least only half-human. But the money kept me going back,
until I had a nightmare
that put a stop to it all. I never set foot near another graveyard after that."
"Tell me," Sara said softly, but he shook his head.
"After my resurrection days I turned to other ways of making a profit all of them nearly as unsavory.
But not quite.
Nothing's as bad as what I did. Not even murder."
He was quiet then. The moon was veiled by clouds, the sky painted in muted tones of gray and violet.
Once it might have been
the kind of night he had gone out to desecrate graveyards. As she stared at the man next to her, his hair
gleaming like ebony in
the lamplight, Sara realized that her heart was pounding and her palms were clammy. Cold perspiration
trickled down her back
and beneath her arms. He was right she was revolted by the things he had done. And without a doubt
there was more he
hadn't told her.
She struggled with many feelings at once, trying to understand him, trying most of all not to fear him. How
terribly naive she
had been. She would never have imagined him capable of such terrible things. The families of his victims,
how they must have suffered and it could just as well have been her family, her relatives. He was
responsible for causing pain to many people.
Had someone described such a man to her, she would have said that he was beyond redemption.
But... he wasn't completely bad. He had come after her tonight, fearing for her safety. He had refused to
take advantage of
her at the club, when there had been nothing to stop him but the remnants of his own conscience. Just
now when she had been crying, he had been kind and gentle. Sara shook her head in consternation, not
knowing what to think. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]