Ink and Bone(98)

“I can’t get them to be qu-qu-quiet,” he sobbed. “They w-w-won’t leave me a-a-alone.”

She saw them all around him. They looked like angels in the snow. Abigail, Patience, Sarah, Priscilla—and others, so many others. The lost girls, the broken, abused, neglected, and murdered. All those Eloise had tried to help or save over the years but couldn’t, and some she’d never seen before. They were restless, angry, and oh so tired, just like Eloise.

“You don’t deserve silence, Abel,” she said.

Eloise released a series of shuddering coughs then. Her last visit with Dr. Apple hadn’t been a pleasant one.

“There’s still hope, Eloise,” he said, exasperated with her again. “But not without the treatment. Without the treatment, the way this is progressing, you don’t even have six months.”

“The cure is worse than the disease, Ben,” she said.

“Until the cure takes hold,” he said. “And then you live well again.”

Live well again. The truth was, she hadn’t lived well since Alfie and Emily died, since the accident that took their lives gave her these abilities. She’d tried to see what she did as a gift. She knew that she’d helped many people, that the world was a better place because of the things she had done. But it hadn’t been a better place for her.

“I want you to understand that I view your refusal of treatment as a form of suicide.” He was a serious young man about Amanda’s age.

“Don’t be so grim, doctor,” she said. “It doesn’t suit you.”

He’d released a frustrated breath. Outside, the day had been bright and blue. She watched the wind blow the white clouds. They shifted and changed shape—a puppy, a dragon, a couple dancing.

“But there could hardly be a more grim situation,” he said, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. “Surely you see that.”

Perhaps only doctors knew what Eloise and people like her knew, that life was a closed unit, a sphere you might hold in the palm of your hand, contained and finite. The body had its very unyielding limits, a thing youth never understands. But obviously the good doctor didn’t comprehend that there was so much more than the life of the body. That, in fact, that was the least of it.

“I can see that’s how you feel,” she said. “And I’m sorry.”

“Mrs. Montgomery,” he said. “Eloise. Please don’t do this.”

Now, the snow had stopped falling and the air had taken on an icy stillness. The boy was there, too, standing behind his father. He was broken, damaged, but not a stain like his father.

“Arthur,” she said gently.

He stepped into view, his head bowed. “I never wanted to hurt anyone.”

“Arthur, walk yourself through those trees and find a man named Jones Cooper. Tell him who you are and what you and your father have done. Tell him where to find the girls.”

“They’ll lock me away.”

“That’s what you must do,” she said. “You must make amends for the wrongs you’ve done.”

He sat on the ground and cried. “I can’t.”

She shook her head. “They’ll find help for you,” she said. “You’ll be all right.”

She wasn’t entirely sure this was true. Some things were beyond the reach of her sight. Some things were not for her to see. She had grown to accept this, as she had grown to accept so many things.

“Go now, Bobo,” she said. He stood, staring at her as she moved closer to Abel.

“Show me where you’ve put them,” she said. She was not angry with him; she did not hate him or judge him. She did not even fear him. That was for others to do. Eloise neither condemned the wicked nor praised the good, because they were just two sides of the same coin. They were all one, all the same, even though so few ever seemed to realize that, would rail with fury at the very thought.

Sobbing, Abel Crawley turned and began to walk toward a path that led back into the woods.

They passed out of sight along the edge of the clearing where -Eloise paused to watch Finley help Rainer into a police cruiser. Jones Cooper stood staring in her direction, though she was -reasonably sure he couldn’t see her, back as she was in the safety of darkness. She saw Wolf and Merri Gleason, holding each other, oblivious to everything around them, grief was wrapped around them like a curtain. How cruelly Merri Gleason had been treated to think she was close to finding her daughter, only to have everything snatched away. Abbey Gleason was gone. Merri had to find a way to let go, or lose herself.

Eloise saw a light around Finley, something bright and good and strong. She was different from Eloise, a natural. She had a big ego, a strong spirit. She was ready. The girl wouldn’t let it rule her; she wouldn’t let it take everything. Eloise spent a long moment taking in the youthful beauty of Finley’s solid flesh, strong and flushed with life. I’ll stop when my outer self looks like my inner self, she’d said when Eloise had expressed distress over the girl’s myriad tattoos. Eloise still didn’t like it, but she understood now that Finley was exerting some kind of control over her body, making it what she wanted it to be. Part of her wanted to call to Finley, to hold her in her arms and try to explain. But there was no explaining anything to youth. And there was no such thing as good-bye. She knew that better than anyone. She kept after Abel Crawley.