Excerpt: Bad Moon Rising

New York City 1891

Portia straightened her spine and went deathly still. She could feel him watching her and she didn’t want to give him any cause for alarm. She waited. She was afraid to turn around, afraid to see the deathblow coming. She just wanted it to be over quickly. She didn’t want to beg. She didn’t want to grovel. She just wanted to die as peacefully as possible.

She heard a match being struck and suddenly a soft glow of light appeared in the periphery of her vision. Portia swung around to see Edward White lighting an oil lamp on a small side table. He blew out the match and straightened, turning to look at her.

“Did Dr. White send you?”

Portia’s throat was painfully dry and she wasn’t even sure that she could speak, but she tried. “I don’t know Dr. White.”

“Oh really?” he raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “That’s funny. This afternoon you told me that you had very personal business with him.”

“That was a lie.”

He laughed. The sound made Portia’s whole body shudder.

“Was that the lie? Or is this the lie? Come, come my dear, I know you can do better than that.”

He moved toward her and Portia took an unconscious step back. “What do you want with me?” she asked, her voice riddled with fear.

He let his eyes lazily drift down her body and a whole new kind of terror swept through her.

She backed up another step. “You can’t . . . you can’t be serious.”

He moved closer, and Portia suddenly found her back pressed up against a wall. She had run out of room to retreat.

He closed the distance between them, resting his hands above her head on the wall. He stared down at her with cool, dark eyes. “I will do whatever I have to do to get the answers I seek. Do you understand me?”

She nodded her head wordlessly.

“Good,” he replied. “I’m glad we understand each other. Now,” he said, as he stepped away from her, “your name.”

Portia was momentarily stunned. She hadn’t expected him to back away. She hadn’t expected him to give her any room at all. She knew she was far from being out of danger, but perhaps, if she cooperated, he’d let her go after all.

“Portia Godfrey,” she said softly.

“What was that?”

“Portia Godfrey,” she replied, with more determination.

“How do you know Julian White?”

“I don’t.”

"What were you doing at his office?”

Portia’s determination faltered. She couldn’t tell him the truth, could she? How would she ever explain herself?

“I’m waiting.”

She looked into his dark brown eyes, searching for any spark of warmth or compassion. She found none. What would he do to her if he knew the truth? Would he get angry again? Would he hurt her?

“Do I have to use force to compel you to speak Miss Godfrey?” he thundered.

“No!” She took in a deep breath, trying to get herself under control. “I followed you there.”

“Why?”

“Because you were late.” Portia’s eyes suddenly stung with tears and she secretly damned herself ten kinds of a fool. If she hadn’t have loved him, if she hadn’t have made up all those silly stories about him, she never would have been in this situation in the first place. It was all her own fault. She was going to die just because she had loved the wrong man. How stupid could she have been?

“Because I was late?”

“It’s Monday. You always go to the bank and then the market on Monday; exactly at twelve. You were late and I was worried.”

She saw his eyes cloud with confusion and for the first time, she felt slightly triumphant.

“What in God’s name are you talking about?”

“You. You go to the bank and the market every Monday, just like clockwork. You were late today and I was worried. You’re never late. You haven’t been late once in the past three years.”

He rushed toward her then and she instinctively pushed her back up against the wall. He hovered above her, menacingly, his hands pressed up against the wall above her head.

“Who the hell are you?” he breathed through gritted teeth.

“I told you, my name is Portia Godfrey.”

“And you’ve been spying on me for the past three years?”

“Yes,” she replied, her voice barely audible.

“Why?”

“Because I loved you?”

Portia’s heart beat furiously in her chest as she waited for him to respond. But he didn’t. He didn’t do or say anything. He just stared down at her as if she hadn’t spoken at all.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, after nearly a full minute, “I don’t understand.”

“I thought,” she inhaled a sharp breath, “I thought that I was in love with you. But I was wrong.”

He blinked as if trying to clear his head, as if trying to wrap his brain around her words. “Why would you think that you were in love with me?”

“Because . . . because you were perfect. Because every time I saw you on the street, my heart fluttered just a bit.” Portia could feel her cheeks blazing pink. She wanted to cry and to scream and to run, all at the same time. But she wasn’t free to do any of those things. She had to stay exactly where she was and suffer his interrogation. Her pride was not more important than her life. She would suffer all the humiliation she had to, just to get out of there alive.

“Who are you?” he asked, in wonder. “How do you even know me?”

“I . . . I work in one of the houses on this street. Well, I did until today at least. I see you pass outside the window everyday. I couldn’t help but notice you. I’m sorry. I never meant to pry.”

“How do you know where I go every Monday, if you’ve only seen me from the window?”

“I’ve followed you before.”

She saw a brief flash of anger in his eyes and she nervously swallowed down the lump in her throat.

“I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again. I swear. I didn’t mean any harm.”

His eyes bored into her, raking her very soul. He was doing it again, scaring her out of her wits with just a look. She so desperately wanted to run, but she couldn’t. He was standing over her like a monument, an immovable fortress. There was no way he was ever going to let her go, not until he was good and ready.

“How much do you know?” he asked, his voice unsettlingly cold.

She shook her head numbly from side to side. “I don’t know anything. I swear. Nothing at all.”

“Did Dr. White tell you to say all of this? Did he think that if you played the innocent, that I would let you go?”

“I told you, I don’t know Dr. White. I’d never even heard of him until today. I swear it. Please,” she pleaded, “you have to believe me.”

His eyes searched her face and Portia held her breath. “Were you really in love with me?” he asked.

“I thought I was.”

“What changed your mind?”

“You threatened to kill me.”

He laughed; a good, strong, hearty laugh. “Of course,” he said, more to himself than to her. “But that means that up until an hour ago, you still loved me. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” she said meekly.

“Then prove it.”

Portia was certain that her heart had stopped. “What?”

“Prove it. If you want me to believe that Dr. White didn’t send you – that you’ve only been following me out of some misguided feelings of love – prove it. Prove that you love me.”

“But I don’t love you anymore.”

A knowing smirk spread slowly across his lips. “I may never have been in love Miss Godfrey, but I have read enough about it to know that it is not a feeling that vanishes in an instant. No matter what the circumstances. If you loved me an hour ago, then you must love me still.”

Portia’s mind suddenly felt shattered into tiny pieces. A part of her was more terrified than ever, and another part, a much less sane and sensible part, was reveling in the knowledge that Edward White had never been in love. She knew she was a fool. A pathetic, lovesick fool. But maybe he was right. Maybe her love for him hadn’t disappeared, even though he had threatened her life. But she couldn’t bring herself to admit that to him. It was far too dangerous.

“I don’t think that I ever really loved you. I didn’t know you until tonight. What I felt, was merely infatuation, not love. It isn’t the same. Love is forever, but infatuation is fleeting.”

“So you consider three years to be fleeting, is that it?”

“No.”

“Then do as I’ve asked. If you want me to believe you, if want to walk out of here alive, then prove that what you say is true. Prove that you love me Miss Godfrey. Prove it.”