“Jacqui, what is it?”
I looked at Jonathan. “We have to get you out of here. They brought me here to capture you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We have no time.” I pulled at his arm. “Don’t you see?” Another deep squeezing pain struck me, and I paused, gasping for breath, then pressed forward. “You're a Diamond Heir, the former Keeper of the Court. There's any number of people they could sway by threatening harm to you.” He'd slowed down, and I pulled at his arm again. “They captured Josie, but I didn’t take the bait. So they captured me. They hit me on the head in front of the Manor and brought me here.”
“Oh, gods, Jacqui,” he panted, “I had no idea.”
We kept going, one halting step at a time. I said, “Then they sent this forgery to you. They couldn’t get to you any other way, especially after you’d been taken before. They knew you hadn’t been at the trial the day the handwriting expert testified to the signs of forgery. They knew you’d come.”
Jon panted, “You ... go on ... without me. What ... if they ... mean ... to capture us ... both?”
He wasn’t thinking straight. “Come on,” I said resolutely, tugging at his arm, “no time for heroics.”
We took a few steps forward, and up ahead the way became lighter. I said, “I think there’s a door over there.”
Jon’s eyes were glazed over, his lips pale. “I ... can’t ... do this.” He collapsed upon the floor.
“Oh, gods, Jon,” I whispered. His eyes were closed, his breath shallow. A board stood upon its side and with some effort, I propped his feet up on it. “Jon, wake up.”
A soft squeal of a door opening. The area grew brighter. I heard the running of little feet, and Ante appeared. “There you are!” The boy knelt beside us. “What happened to him?”
“He’s sick,” I whispered. “Did you find anyone to help?”
“I saw the lady,” Ante said. “She said to run round, that you’d be coming out this way.”
Jon opened his eyes, focused on Ante. “It’s him.”
I said, “Who?”
“The boy. I was there with the carriage, and he said he found you. He led me to you, then he ran off.”
“Wait,” I said to Ante. “Why didn’t you tell me you found him first? Before you mentioned the lady?”
Ante said, “Why should I? He’s right there.”
“Keep your voice down,” I said. “The men are still out there.”
“Hmph,” Ante said. “Tell me why I shouldn’t just yell.”
“Why would you do that? We’ve done you no harm.”
“No harm? You killed my brother. Ain’t that harm enough?”
And I remembered why his running seemed familiar.
The night at the old Plaza, after the gun battle. The figure of a small boy running away ... on the side of our attackers!
“I don’t understand,” I said. “Who’s your brother?”
Ante’s face turned angry, “Duck, that’s who. I was too little to do anything about it then, but now I’m here.” He pulled a knife from his back pocket. “They swore I’d have a chance at you, and now I’m gonna make sure you pay.”
I grabbed his knife arm; the weapon went clattering to the floor and away. “I didn’t kill your brother. He got shot.” Tony had shot him in the leg after he and his lover Crab betrayed us. It turned out that Duck had the sugar disease. “His wound festered. We had our very own doctor treat him.” I didn’t know what else to tell the boy. “He got sick and died.”
Ante started to yell. “You liar! Frank told me it all — you killed him! Duck didn’t do nothing wrong, and you killed him!”
Frank? I pulled him towards me. “You have to stop this! They’ll catch us!”
“Good! I been waiting for this chance my whole life.” He began to yell. “Get ‘em! They’re here! Over here!”
I seized the boy and put my hand over his mouth. He kicked at me, scratched. Footsteps came closer. “We have to move, Jon,” I said. “Can you stand?”
Jon struggled to his feet. I clamped my left hand over the boy’s face, pressing the back of his head to my leg, so I could offer Jon my right. The boy thrashed, pulled at my hand, kicked wildly, terrified shrieking moans coming from him.
But he was small, and my grasp was firm. We moved down the hall one halting step at a time.
I had to get Jonathan out to the safety of my men. But how? If he fell again, how could I help him? “Come on, Jon. We can do this.”
“Okay,” Jon panted, eyes glazed. “Okay.”
We got about ten feet down the hall, one slow step at a time, when my left hand started to cramp. I’d been so focused on Jon that I forgot the boy, whose feet now dragged. “Stop.”
Jonathan stood panting in the half-darkness. “I think once we’re round the —”
Scratches covered my left hand and arm. Ignoring that, I knelt before Ante; his face was pale, eyes wide and unmoving. I felt for a pulse: there was none. I looked up at Jon in horror. “He’s dead!” The boy's little face blurred before me. “Oh, gods! What have I done?”
Jon stared past me. “Leave him ... we have ... to get out of here.”
I’d murdered a child! And not only any child, but one we should have helped, the brother of Tony’s man.
“He was ... with your enemy,” Jon panted. “He’d ... have brought them ... all upon us.”
Footsteps echoed as the men hunting us tried one way through the labyrinth, then another.
Jon gave me his hand. When I stood, a new pain ripped through me, not dull this time but sharp, tearing. And as I clutched my belly, a sense of doom overtook me. “Something’s wrong.”
As I moved aside, dark wetness stained the floor.
“Oh, gods,” Jon panted, his face terrified. “You’re bleeding!”
I grabbed his shoulder, feeling gray, transparent.
The men’s footsteps drew nearer, their voices louder, calling to each other.
Our eyes met. Jonathan’s face changed into a grim determination and resolve.
“No, Jon,” I said. “Please. Don’t do this.”
But his face was set. “I would rather die than have you caged.” His cane clattered to the floor, and he stooped to reach behind my legs. With a grunt, he lifted me as if I were the heaviest load ever, taking one gasping, shuddering, staggering step, then another.
I clung to him, the pain rendering me barely able to breathe.
Jon’s gasps became the sounds of straining with all his might through gritted teeth.
“Keep going, Jon,” I panted, feeling faint. “We’re almost there.”
The open door lay ahead. As we neared the alley, the street nearby teemed with people.
Jon stepped through the doorway. A cry of agony burst from him as he collapsed. People shrieked as we fell into plain view upon the cobbled alley a few feet from the sidewalk.
Something was terribly wrong: I felt as if I were being gutted alive. My blood trailed behind us, soaked my house dress.
But Jonathan’s face twisted in pain, his hands pressed to his chest. His lips were bluish pale, eyes shut, skin ashen.
A crowd began to gather. I screamed, “For gods’ sake, get a doctor!”
Feet ran, men and women yelled. But all I could see was Jon’s face. Sweat dripped from him, soaked his clothing. I covered him with the edge of my wrapper, smoothed wet hair from his face. “The doctor will be here soon.” He looked so pale. “Just rest. All will be well.”
But his breath came in gasps, and he didn’t speak. Finally, he opened his eyes, his breath rattling in his chest.
I lugged him to a sitting position, almost ready to cry with the sudden increase in the pain in my belly, which only seemed to be getting worse. “Jon, it’s okay, you fell. The doctor’s on his way. How can I help?”
Jon gasped for several breaths, then he focused upon me. “I hesitate ... to ask ...”
I shook my head. “Jon, I mean it. There is nothing you could ask that I wouldn’t do for you.”
I felt certain he would ask me to send someone a message, or look after Gardena’s son, or —
“Kiss me,” he said.
I almost laughed, but then I thought: he fears he’s dying.
Could it possibly be that he had never been kissed?
Filled with compassion, I moved closer, placing my hand beside his dear face, and kissed him full on the lips, as I would have kissed Tony, ignoring the gasps of the people standing around me. After a moment, I realized Jon had his arms around me, and I drew back to look at him.
He smiled, eyes still shut. “Thank you.” He opened his eyes. “I always ... wondered ... what ... it might be like ... to kiss you ...” He laughed quietly. “Thank you ... for ... indulging me. It was ... quite wicked, I know.”
He always did know how to make me smile. “Yes, it was. But you’re entirely forgiven. Just get well.”
The look in his eyes frightened me. Was he truly dying? This might be my only chance. I rested my forehead on his. “I love you.”
At that, he smiled at me one last time, a gentle fondness in his gaze. “I ... never once ... doubted that,” he gasped. “I promise you. Not even ... for an instant.”
Emotion flooded through me as I held his hand. His skin should be dark as night, yet he looked so terribly pale.
“Jacqui?”
Tears dripped from my face. Blood pooled in the cobblestones beside me. All I cared about was him. “What is it, Jon?”
“Promise me ... you’ll find a way ... to be happy.” He sounded urgent. “Swear it.”
He’s saying goodbye. How could I ever be happy without him? “I will.”
“I don’t care ... what ... you have to do. Who you have ... to kill. Please. Promise me ... you’ll find a way. To live. Really live.”
I looked in his beautiful dark eyes, so full of pain. “I swear to you, Jon. I will. I promise. Be at peace.”
He closed his eyes then, and seemed to breathe easier, yet his lashes were moist.
Hoofbeats approached, and the rattling of carriages. “Move back, you!” Men in Diamond livery came pushing through the crowd, their eyes widening at the blood beside me. “What happened?”
How could I explain all that had happened? “He collapsed.”
Amelia and Tony ran up then, Honor and Blitz behind them. “Thank the Dealer we found you!” Amelia said.
They lifted me to my feet. Suddenly a splash of dark bloody water hit the ground, and my legs felt soaked.
“The baby’s coming!” Amelia said.
I turned to Jonathan, but he was being carried off by the men. Our eyes met; his mouth moved. “Be happy.”
Tony, Blitz, and Honor carried me to the carriage, Amelia scrambling in behind. “Hurry!” Tony shouted, and soon we were off bouncing down the cobbled street.
“Why did you leave the house?” Tony said.
Was he blaming me?
A terrifying deep pain struck; I couldn’t help but cry out in despair. Am I dying too?
Tony took my hand, leaned over to kiss my forehead. “Never mind that,” he said. “You have a great deal of work ahead of you tonight.”
* * *
The whole thing didn’t take nearly as long as I thought it would, but when I gazed at the living boy they laid in my arms, all the fear and pain seemed to vanish.
His hair, black and wavy. His skin was too pale, and his eyes were grayish blue. He looked so beautiful I began to cry.
A cock crowed outside. The maids began gathering the blood-soaked sheets.
Once I was cleansed, Molly came in. “Here, I’ll take him,” she said. “Roy hired a wet nurse.”
I stared at her, clutching the boy to my chest. “Can’t I feed him?”
“You’ve lost much too much blood — you almost died! The doctor says you’ll need all your strength to recover. Don’t worry — the doctor says he’ll be fine. All the high-card women have wet nurses. Roy says you’re to have only the best.”
He wouldn’t let me feed my own child?
It was then that Pearson came in with the note. Jonathan Diamond had turned in his cards during the night and returned to the Shuffler: he was dead.
Tears ran down my face. I looked at the baby in my arms, born as Jon lay dying. I kissed my baby's brow. “I’ll name him Jonathan.”