To Make Death Love Us by Sovereign Falconer Read Free Book Online Page B

with the tips of her fingers—is just so much
gossip?" asked Will, his eyes bright as new copper coins.
    "No. It's God's
truth. So I been told by people have actually seen her about it, and, mind you, there'd be no
cause for them to lie. It's an ungodly thing and not well thought of by some I could mention."
The salesman bent forward over the counter and said in a confidential tone, "Of course, there's
folks always against something they can't figure out. I've heard some mighty strange things about
the Pratts. Unnatural things. Wicked things."
    "No doubt," said
Will Carney.
    "I'm not one to
tell tales," said the tailor, preparing to do just that.
    "Save it," said
Will, who had heard enough and more.
    Will bought a
polka-dot tie to go with his off-the-rack suit and frilled-front shirt. He bought a straw skimmer as well, hanging it on his head
at a rakish angle.
    Will went to Rain
Street and found the house. He just had to see that wonder he'd been told about and there she
was, sitting in the window as advertised. Good God, but she was beautiful. The tailor hadn't
mentioned that. She was goddamned, unbelievably beautiful. It was a face like no other he had
ever seen.
    He just stood there
and marveled over the sight for a long time. Serena smiled, deep in her dreams. Will looked on in
unrestrained wonder. To find such a thing as this, this delicate snow-white creature in the
window, was something for which Will had longed for all his life.
    There had to be
some way to possess this wonder, to use it for his own ends.
    He turned it over
in his mind for a long time.
     
     
     
     
     
    When Will Carney
came calling, he'd found out all he could about Enoch Pratt and his madness. He found out about
the yearly visits to the grave of Edgar Allan Poe. He even went so far as to read the books Poe
had written, although it had given him somewhat of a headache and left him as much at a loss as
when he started reading them. Still, he wanted something to talk about to get him inside that
house, and it was the best thing that came to mind. He rang the antique doorknocker and after
quite some time, the nurse opened the
door. The nurse frowned at his cheerful way of saying hello.
    Will asked to see
Mr. Enoch Pratt.
    "Been dead for
years," the woman said and started to close the heavy oaken door.
    "See here," said
Will. "I'm that shocked!"
    The woman refrained
from closing the door, staring at Will warily, wondering what he was about. In truth, she did not
like the slick look of him.
    Will Carney frowned
and pursed his lips. (He'd been told he was no mean actor.) He removed his hat and scratched his
head with his bad hand.
    "It's a marvel I
never heard about it. Of course, I've been in Europe on my studies and that great man may well
have passed on while I was gone."
    "Great man?" the
woman echoed in doubt and suspi­cion. She had heard him described as crazy often enough, but a
great man?
    "For certain,
madam. He was a great scholar of that greatest of all Southern—perhaps of all American—writ­ers,
Edgar Allan Poe."
    "I wouldn't know
about that."
    Undaunted, Will
went on. "Why, his collection of Poe memorabilia is world famous. His collection concerning the
history of Baltimore is no small shuck, either. Now, Mrs. Pratt, I wonder if . . ."
    "I am not Mrs.
Pratt. I'm her nurse and companion."
    Will frowned. This
was more difficult than he'd imag­ined.
    There was a piping
sound from inside the room to the right of the door. It had the clarity of a bell.
    "Who is it? Who's
there, Agnes?" the voice asked.
    "I don't know, Miss
Serena," said the nurse, with the thought in her mind that she didn't want to know.
    "Well, whoever it
is, tell him to come into the parlor," said the voice, ever so sweetly.
    "I don't think so,
Miss Serena," said the nurse, taking in Will Carney head to toe with one disparaging
glance.
    "I do, Agnes. I
really do think you should show the gentleman into the