CHAPTER IV

EVELYN

BY BARRY REESE

The home of Beauregard Ellis was not what it had once been, but it was still one of the few plantations that had managed to survive the burning of Atlanta. Much of the surrounding property had been sold off since the War Between the States, helping to keep the family's manner of living intact, but Max could tell that the Ellis clan was heading for hard times. There was no more land to sell, save for the house itself, and the way Ellis decorated the place, the remaining fortune would be gone in one or two generations.

As Max stepped into the grand foyer, Beauregard and his wife, a somewhat heavyset woman named Gladys, greeted him. Both of them wore old-fashioned attire, with Mrs. Ellis' considerable bulk squeezed into a corset. Beauregard himself was dressed in a long coat and tails, his hair swept back by an overuse of hair cream.

"Mr. Davies!" Beauregard exclaimed, moving forward to shake hands. "I am so pleased that you decided to attend. How have you enjoyed the Southern hospitality so far?"

"Aside from the heat, I've quite enjoyed myself," Max replied honestly.

"You Yankees just don't know what a real summer's like, is all," Gladys said. She offered her hand daintily and Max played along with the game, bringing it to his lips. On the three occasions he'd met her so far, Gladys had never missed an opportunity to lament the many faults that Yankees possessed... but she always seemed somewhat attracted to him, as well.

"I'm sure there are hotter days to come," Max agreed. "It looks like an excellent turnout."

"Social event of the season," Beauregard laughed. "Go on into the study. The men folk are gathered there, having some smokes. We'll meet up with the ladies later on, for food and dancing."

"Do you dance, Mr. Davies?"

Max paused at the question, recognizing the woman who had teasingly asked him. He turned to see Evelyn Gould moving up the stairs and into the foyer, looking breathtakingly beautiful. She wore a soft yellow dress that left her shoulders bare. Auburn hair was pulled back on her head, leaving small ringlets to dangle invitingly down her neck.

"Only with women such as yourself," Max answered.

"And what kind of woman is that?" Evelyn inquired, coming to a halt just before him, close enough that her perfume reached his nostrils.

"One who is far too lovely for words." Max reached out for her hand, not having to feign a desire to lift it to his lips, as he had with Mrs. Ellis.

"Flatterer," Evelyn said with a small but pleased smile. She had arrived from Boston just a month or so before Max had moved to Atlanta, working as an actress. There was a small but increasingly vital arts community in the area and Evelyn had hopes of contributing to it. Her talent, from what Max had heard, wasn't enough to get her onto Broadway or into film, but she seemed content with what she had: which was more than enough to appease the typical theatergoer. "Did you come alone?"

"I'm afraid so. And you?"

"Yes. Shall we remain close to one another in hopes that no one will notice?"

"I was going to suggest the very same thing."

"Great minds think alike," Evelyn teased. She glanced around, noticing that several people were casting annoyed looks at them. "Seems we're blocking the entrance. Are you going into the study to smoke those foul cigars and drink liquor?"

"Well, when you put it that way, it does lose some of its charm." Max gently took her by the arm and led her towards the parlor room where the ladies were gathered. Laughter spilled out as various gossips were spread and fashions were compared. "Are you anxious to spend time with the old biddies of Atlanta?"

Evelyn's eyes flew open and she emitted an unladylike snort of laughter. "You better hush before someone overhears you! We'll be branded as uncouth Yankees and will never be invited back!"

Max grinned, marveling at how alive she made him feel. He'd long ago put aside notions of romance, for fear of how his nocturnal activities might impact such things. But whenever Evelyn was about, he found himself flirting like a schoolboy. "I suppose we should conform to local notions of propriety. Shall I find you once the males and females are brought back together?"

"Yes, please." Evelyn squeezed his hand before moving into the parlor, leaving behind a most enticing scent. Max indulged in it for a moment before heading to take care of his own social duties.

"Darkholme was a bastard and I'm glad he's gone!"

This heated pronouncement from a man named Gilbert Smith was met with a general murmur of approval. The topic of the recent unpleasantness had not been long in coming, for the party's host himself had broached the subject within moments of the men-folk's retiring to the study. "What does everyone think about this Rook fellow?" he'd asked, sipping a brandy and looking altogether too impressed with himself. "If the rumors I've heard are even half true, I'd say a bit of Southern justice would have dispatched Darkholme as well as this Yankee vigilante did."

Max had smiled at those words, but Gilbert had spoken up before he could have voiced any kind of reply. He could see that Beauregard was watching him closely, however, as if waiting for a response. "What sort of rumors have you heard, Beauregard?" I asked, honestly curious.

"Only that Darkholme was conducting perverse experiments on negroes and gypsies. Fiendish stuff." Beauregard took another sip of his drink and added "But you were up North during the Rook's previous killings, weren't you? Do you think he's followed you here?"

The look in Beauregard's eyes made me a bit uncomfortable. He's heard the stories, Max realized. I knew I was getting sloppy... that's why I tried to stop this madness before it landed me in jail.

Forcing a look of nonchalance, Max shrugged and replied "I was there. The cad even made a few of his crime busting efforts on my private property. Gave me a bit of notoriety, I have to admit. Can't say I'm glad to see him in these parts, though I think we'd all be in agreement with Gilbert that some of these people need to be taken care of."

"True enough," Beauregard confirmed. "Perhaps he's someone you know, though? Did you bring any servants with you?"

"No. I traveled alone." I averted my gaze, as if losing interest in the discussion and was saved from any further defense of my honor by the arrival of a new gentleman, one whose late arrival caused everyone to look in his direction.

The figure's appearance caused a profound effect on Max, who recognized him immediately. The man was slightly older than Max, but in good shape and with a dark intelligence evident in his eyes. He wore the most fashionable of modern suits and a fedora was held tightly in one hand, which was slightly bent, as if it had survived great trauma. It was the figure from Max's vision, the one named Trench.

"Jacob! Welcome," Beauregard said, moving forward to shake Trench's good hand. "I'm so glad you could make it. You'll notice a few new faces in the crowd, so I'll introduce you."

Beauregard took to his task with great relish, introducing Trench as a collector of curiosities and the owner of a downtown Atlanta establishment called Jacob's Ladder. Max noticed that many of the men who already knew Trench seemed to regard him coolly, so he made his way towards Gilbert, who had moved to stand near the window.

"You know Mr. Trench, I presume?" Max asked.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Interesting fellow," Gilbert replied, in a voice that definitely implied that he found Trench anything but interesting.

"He looks familiar to me, though I can't quite place him."

"Some of the newspapers ran stories on him a few years back. Feared lost on an expedition, turned up hale and hearty, only survivor, heroic case of human will overcoming nature. All that sort of thing."

"Sounds like it, doesn't it? And he never lets you forget that it is." Gilbert surprised Max by reaching and touching his arm. "He's a dangerous man, Mr. Davies. Be wary of him."

Max nodded, feeling a bit unnerved by the fear that he'd seen in Gilbert's eyes. Before he could question the man further, he heard Beauregard clear his throat from behind him. Turning, Max came face-to-face with the man who had haunted his mind earlier today.

"Mr. Davies, may I introduce you to..."

Beauregard's words were lost in a sudden scream that made everyone in the room jump. Max shoved his way past Trench and his host, running full speed towards the door. He recognized the woman who had emitted the sound, which had been full of agonizing terror.

It was Evelyn.

Lucifer's Cage stories & The Rook © Barry Reese. HTML © Tim Hartin.

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