Chapter Thirteen: Truth and Desire

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The barroom of the Royal Palace was dimly lit by oil lamps hanging from the ceiling. The weak gray light that leaked through the four little windows on the west wall did little to help the small flames brighten the large room. The old saloon was furnished with heavy tables, solid wooden chairs scratched and roughened by age, and imitation paintings. It was frequented by those looking for a place they were unlikely to meet their rich church friends. Cigar smoke drifted lazily across the room, and into the side gambling area that was completely open to the front. Haze thickened the air and fogged the mind. The pungent smell of tobacco, cheap perfume, and sweat was heavy and only intensified by the moist air that rushed in every time another sopping wet body stumbled into the noisy concert-saloon from the streets. Yelling for a dry one, as they slugged toward the hearth that filled the room with stuffy damp heat. The saloons ‘beer-jerkers’ rushed up and offering second drinks to the weary sousl as they swayed their hips and batted their eyelashes.

Drunken Creoles threw their heads back in laughter as they perched on barstools sipping golden brandy. They watched absently as waiter girls danced the cancan to the music of a tiny piano and a squeaky fiddle. Coins clicked as bets were made in the gambling room, matches switched across booted heels and sparked with a crackle. Voices, soft and loud, polluted the air with coarse remarks and bawdy boasting.

Joseph sat at one of the old gambling tables with four other men. All of whom had been sinking deeper into debt every hour that passed.

“Raise,” Jeremy muttered, his dark eyes hidden beneath his felt hat. He deftly tossed his money into the pile at the center of the table.

“Call,” Sam obliged, casting in his share. Joseph silently did the same. Followed by Louis, the fifth party, who had joined their table upon request. Having the looks of a man of means, they had gladly accepted him.

Jean, the card dealer, dealt the final hand and after another round of betting the cards were flipped up. Joseph’s gaze flickered over the other men’s hands, three-of-a-kind, pair, two-pair. A smirk crossed his face when he saw all of them staring at the full-house that lay before him, Jean pushed the large pile of money toward him, and Joseph began stacking it neatly next to his towering piles.

“Well gentlemen,” Louis began, waddling as he adjusted himself in the chair that was two sizes too small for his backside. His beady eyes were cold even as his puffy red face broke into a fake pleasant smile. “Either lady luck is favoring, Mr. Cross this evening, or we have ourselves a clever slide of hand.”

Joseph didn’t bother to look up, sliding his five newly dealt cards discreetly from the table and absently studying them. The pig faced Spanish man was watching him expectantly as he chewed on the end of his cigar. Obviously wanting to evoke a reaction in him, though Joseph didn’t respond.

Louis gave a dignified humph and they returned to the game. However, Joseph was quite certain he heard Jeremy snickering beneath his hat. Sam on the other hand was completely still, his grey eyes fixed on his cards.

The betting began and Joseph raised the stakes every turn. Certain that he held the winning hand by the nervous look in Louis’s eyes every time he called. Jeremy’s rapid breathing, and Sam’s deliberately blank stare gave them both away as well. When, at the final hand he once again won out, Louis’ face turned just a shade darker and he glared openly at him.

Joseph leaned back in his chair unconcerned, he lifted his glass of whiskey from the table and swirled it around. Entranced by the golden liquid that glowed in the fire light. Slowly he raised it to his lips and took a long drink, reflecting that he’d taken to drinking entirely too much lately, and he knew exactly why.

Crystal de la Chaise haunted his every waking moment and continued to visit his dreams. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, thinking again of the week before, and once more berating himself for not keeping up the front that he’d put on at the Cathedral. Why did his will to keep her away always break when she was around? He hadn’t been able to tell her out right that there was no way she could come back to see him. Hadn’t even tried. Even more than that, he couldn’t stop thinking about the soft curves that had pressed against him as he held her. The light scent of jasmine in her silky dark hair as he’d leaned in close. He couldn’t get the image of her exposed throat as her head rested against his chest, out of his mind. How he’d had to resist the temptation to trace his lips along that alabaster skin. He’d even imagined the sound of her soft moan in response to his touch.

How did a woman he’d know for such a short time so quickly become his weakness? And now with Riley’s threat hanging above him, he dreaded seeing her again. Knowing he would have to take drastic measures to keep her away for good.

Shaking himself, Joseph tried to focus on the poker game but couldn’t manage to fully push the blue-eyed woman from his mind. He had to stop this, had to get her to understand, or force her to. She couldn’t help him, and she could get hurt . . . or worse.

Joseph sat up straight in his chair, taking note that the pot had increased to a considerable size, he attempted to pay closer attention. At that same moment, for what seemed like the hundredth time, the door of the saloon burst open and a cloaked figure slipped in. What followed was a familiar aroma of jasmine that made Joseph’s heart drop into his stomach.

She closed the door swiftly behind her and moved to a vacant corner of the room, her face, though concealed by the dark blue cloak, obviously seeking. Joseph quickly looked away. Praying that he wasn’t right, but knowing he was. His alarmed reaction was not lost on Sam. He could feel the icy gaze from across the table flickering from him to the new arrival with more interest than he’d shown the entire game. It was obvious that Sam had been waiting for this day to come by the expression that suddenly lit his face. He looked like a lion stocking its prey. Joseph downed his whiskey in one gulp, and he set it on the table a little harder than was necessary. He took a deep breath and felt the lukewarm liquid burn its way down his throat and settle in his stomach. He had to stay calm, and could only hope she would not be foolish enough to make her presence known in a place like this. How had she found him anyhow?

Masking his dread with the skill he’d learned as a child, he focused once more on the game, all the while feeling Crystal’s gaze on him. He couldn’t risk even glancing her way. The hand continued, and Joseph called every raise without a second thought. As the last round of betting commenced, Louis pushed all of his money to the center of the table. A wide grin emerged from under his thick wired mustache.

Sam and Jeremy tossed their cards in and all eyes were on Joseph, he let his gaze flicker from the cards in his hands to Louis’ beaming face. Not really considering his next move at all, but wondering if it was possible to some how get Crystal to leave without ever acknowledging her. Sam, Jeremy, and Jean were all watching him closely, the noise of the coffee house fading from the small world around the table. With deliberate movement, Joseph shoved the correct amount of money in. “Call.”

Louis’ expression turned to one of deep satisfaction, to one of outrage. “You cheat!” he cried. Joseph was gratified to realize his assumption had been correct. Louis was bluffing. Nevertheless, being called a cheat was down right insulting, and Joseph didn’t appreciate being insulted. He also was willing to do anything to keep Sam or Jeremy from noticing Crystal. She was still standing quietly in the corner, completely concealed by navy blue wool.

Fixing Louis with a fierce stare, Joseph kept his voice casual. “Better watch who you’re talkin’ to, Louis, I’ll mess your face up so bad your wife won’t recognize you.”

“Is that a threat?” Louis asked narrowing his beady black eyes.

Joseph laughed, examining his cards. “No, not at all. It’s my suggestion on how to get your wife to bear looking at you. A new face might do just the trick.”

Louis leaped from his chair in outrage.“How dare you insult me!”

Joseph didn’t even look up, stacking his money once more as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Get up and say that to my face. Duel me man to man, right now.” Louis had turned beet red in a matter of moments. The vain in his forehead throbbing as his anger surged. Just as Joseph wanted.

“But that wouldn’t be fair at all,” Joseph said, the light clicking of coins now the only sound in the room.

“And why on earth not?” Louis asked cautiously.

“A man-to-man duel would require two men. We on the other hand, only have one man and . . . well to put it gently, a rather large walrus by the looks of you.”

The entire room burst out laughing at this remark, which only seemed to fuel Louis’ anger.

“You will pay for your words, monsieur!” Louis reached for the handgun that was tucked away in his belt, but before he had a chance to move Joseph was out of his chair and had his revolver pointed at Louis’ head.

Louis stared at the gun, beads of sweat slowly dripping down his forehead. “Now, Monsieur Cross, you must believe that it was only a jest,” he said. His Adams apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed.

“Duels over,” Joseph said his voice low and filled with vehemence. “I win.”

Inserting his gun back in to his holster Joseph picked his cards up from off the table and flipped them up, revealing four aces. All four men looked dumbfounded as he scooped up the money from the table and dropped it into his saddle bag.

“It’s been nice playing with you fine gentlemen.” He tipped his hat mockingly at Louis. “I’ll see you boys later,” he said to Sam and Jeremy, one of whom was grinning broadly.

He swung his bag onto his shoulder and headed toward the exit, motioning to Crystal to follow him just before he slipped out the door.

*******

Rain poured down in torrents, turning the streets into shallow rivers. Even though it was only afternoon the thick clouds darkened the city, refusing to allow the sun to disrupt its merciless rage. Few were foolish enough to venture out in this downpour, though some cruelly left their horses hitched to posts and freezing in the onslaught of water. Joseph stayed close to the wall as he made his way down the banquette, feeling the rain sting his face even under the roof that spanned the sidewalk.

He turned onto St. Phillip Street, he strode quickly to Hotel de la Marine and stopped in the shelter of its doorway. He waited, leaning heavily against the unused side of the French door, his breath as irregular as if he’d just run a mile. When Crystal finally rounded the corner, he swiftly grabbed her arm and jerked her out of view of the street.

“Are you crazy?” he demanded, pushing open the hotel door, he pulled her inside. “What were you thinking going to a saloon by yourself?”

Crystal looked mildly alarmed by his harsh tone and stuttered as she replied. “I– I’m sorry, I– I was told by the maid that you go there often, and I wanted to see you.”

Joseph heaved a sigh. “That’s not good enough.” Scanning the hotel lobby, he noticed a few raised brows and perked ears directed upon them. He moved toward the staircase, beckoning her to follow him. Relieved that she hadn’t decided to remove her cloak yet. They made their way to his room. Once inside, Joseph checked the flooding streets to make sure they hadn’t been followed. So far so good.

“Why’d you come here, Crys?” he asked, still staring out the window.

Crystal, who had been in the process of removing her cloak, looked up, her brow creasing. “Why? Because you brought me, of course.”

Joseph yanked the sheer curtains closed, turning to meet her questioning gaze. “No, I mean– I know I brought you here. But why are you so determined to help a stranger you barely know?”

“Barely? I have known you for weeks now.” She laid her cloak on the chair, watching him uncertainly.

“A few hours of talking and you think you know me?” he said in a sudden outburst. “You don’t seem to understand. You shouldn’t trust me, there’s no way for you to know – for sure – that I wouldn’t hurt you. I have perfect opportunity, no one around. I could do whatever I want to – kill you – and no one would ever know it was me. So why are you here?”

“I trust you,” she said simply, looking away from him.

“You shouldn’t,” he said, his voice a growl. “What reason do you have for trusting me. I haven’t given you any. On the contrary, I’ve given you more than enough reasons to think the worst of me. You know so little about me, and even what I’ve told you could be a lie. So how do you know?”

There was a long drawn out silence and she avoided his harsh gaze, her eyes distant. He moved closer and lifted her chin so she had to look at him. Her deep blue eyes pulled him in and for a moment he wondered what it would be like to drown himself in their murky depths. He ran his thumb over her lower lip; she shuddered under his touch and he forced himself not to lean closer.

“I look into your eyes,” she finally whispered. “I look into your eyes and I can see your heart. You have a good heart. That’s all that matters.”

He laughed, dropping his hand abruptly and deliberately stepping away.“If that’s what you see in my eyes, I’m either a damn good liar or you’re blind.”

She gasped and hurriedly looked away, though he saw the tears she brushed away with trembling fingers. He went back to the window, needing to get away from her, and scanned the road. Everything was a blur in the storm, but even through the wall of rain he could make out a gray shadow across the street. He was suddenly furious at Sam for never leaving him alone; at Crystal for putting herself in the middle of all of this. But mostly at himself for allowing it to escalate this far. “You have to leave,” he said quietly.

Crystal moved hesitantly to his side. “What is it?”

“No!” Joseph pulled her sharply away from the window, jerking the heavy curtains closed. “Listen to me.” He grabbed her by the shoulders, wanting to shake some sense into her. “You can’t come here anymore. You can’t be seen with me. Do you understand?”

“Joseph, please calm down.” She tried to sooth him, but he wasn’t in the mood. He nearly shoved her away as he pushed back from her, he slammed his fist into the wall. “Joseph,” she said again. She moved toward him and gripped his shirt before he could retreat. “It’s all right . . . breathe.” She traced her finger across his cheek and he closed his eyes, panting heavily.

“Why won’t you understand,” he whispered hoarsely. “Why won’t you go? You’re not safe around me– with me.” He opened his eyes and longing overwhelmed him as he stared into her eyes.

“It’s all right,” she said, her voice below a whisper as she continued to stroke his cheek.

“No,” he murmured, leaning closer to her. “No it’s not.”

He took her mouth hungrily and she responded with only a moments hesitation. Melting into him with a passion he hadn’t suspected her capable of. He was on fire, blazing and hot, yet light and warm. Her lips were soft and willing under his own. He pulled her closer, drowning in the taste of her, wanting nothing more than to take her as his own. Then with a suddenness that broke him, she was out of his reach and had crossed the room, head buried in her hands.

“I’m sorry.” She wouldn’t look at him, her voice hoarse and choking. “Oh God, forgive me, I’m sorry.” Joseph knew she wasn’t speaking to him.

Still out of breath, he watched her with a sinking feeling in his chest. He had to do something to stop this, even if it cost her a small amount of pain in the process. If he let this go on any longer he would lose her. Just as he’d lost others, and it would hurt more than ever before.

Crystal couldn’t bear to look up, shame overwhelming her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again and she wondered if she imagined the echo of her words behind her. Without warning she felt Joseph grab her and rip her hair back, drawing a sharp cry from her lips. “Joseph, what are you doing?” She tried to push him away, but the cold kiss of steel against her exposed neck prevented her from moving.

“Now do you trust me, Crys?” His jaw was clenched tight and the look on his face was menacing, but she caught a glimpse of masked pain beneath it.

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” she said, remembering the last time he’d turned violent.

“How do you know?” he asked through gritted teeth. “I’m hurting you now aren’t I?” He slammed her against the dresser, the brass knobs bruising her back and shoulders. The knife in his hand trembled so violently that it nicked her neck.

“No,” she forced out, ignoring the pain.

He pinned her against the dresser with his body, his mouth covering hers once more. He kissed her, roughly this time, and for a moment she returned it. Her lips moving with his; the sweet taste of her intoxicating him. But again she broke away, and he buried his face in the curve of her neck, panting. He could hear her breath coming in short gasps as well and he groaned. Turning his head, he traced his lips up her neck and up and down her jaw. He could feel her entire body trembling beneath him, and by the slight moans that escaped her mouth he doubted it was from fear.

“What if I raped you,” he whispered into her ear. “Then would you trust me?”

“You wouldn’t.”

“You’re too trusting,” he mocked, pulling her toward the bed. He threw her onto it and seized her bodice, cutting the linen fabric in one swift motion.

“Stop it, Joseph,” she gasped, her eyes suddenly terrified as he harshly ripped at her clothing.

“No!” he said sharply, his face contorting. “I told you– again and again I told you, but you wouldn’t listen.”– He slammed his fist against the bed– “Why wouldn’t you listen?!”

“You’re hurting me,” she whispered, her voice choked with tears. She no longer struggled.

Joseph tried to let his desire blind him to what he was about to do. He could stop her visits and end his longing all in one act. But her quiet words stabbed his heart and stopped him short. Breathing heavily, he stared down at her rent dress and the knife he had been ready to use to slash her corset in two. Finally he glanced at her tear streaked face, saw the hurt in her eyes; he cast the knife to the floor.

“Dammit, Crys.” He moved away from her and she pulled herself up and crawled toward the head board.

She was right. He couldn’t hurt her, not for the life of him could he. “How?” he whispered. “How do you know me so well?”

She shook her head, pulling the sleeves of her dress back up over her shoulders, as she fought down the lump in her throat.

Joseph cursed himself inwardly, seeing the wounded look on her face.

“Oh Jesus, Crystal, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have– I wasn’t thinking. I’m such an asshole. Please forgive me.” Sitting down beside her, he pulled her to him only to have her stiffen and draw away. She burst into tears.

He backed away and raked his hand roughly through his hair. Watching her helplessly, he felt self-loathing overwhelm him. What the hell was he thinking? He was such an idiot. A damn fool. The heartless uncaring outlaw he hadn’t wanted her to think he was.

Crystal curled her legs up against herself and cried and it was a long time before she finally regained her composure.

“Are you alright?” he asked when she was silent.

She nodded, sniffling and hiccuping. She jerked at her bodice, trying to cover herself. It did little good, the dress was ruined. Torn straight down the front, there was no repairing it. Her corset was savagely cut as well, the rib-cage visible under the ripped fabric.

“I’m so sorry, Crys,” he repeated. Standing he took off his coat and draped it over her shoulders.

“I know,” she whispered, pulling the jacket tightly around her. She attempted to fix her hair, but to no avail. Yanking the holds out, she let it fall in a dark mass about her shoulders. Then began harshly wiping her eyes with the hem of her skirt.

“You should go,” he said, offering his hand to help her up.

“No,” she said her voice hoarse from crying. “Joseph, listen to me. I realize that I may be in danger here, but so are you. I dreamed it, and I’m scared for you.”

“You what?”

Crystal slid to the edge of the bed and looked at Joseph with wide eyes.“I dreamed of you the night after I met you, and . . . I think . . . I think I’m the one meant to help you.”

“Oh sweet Jesus,” Joseph muttered, rubbing his face roughly.

“What’s wrong?”

He was silent for a long while, scrubbing his face with the palm of his hand as if to wipe away some thick grim. “I don’t need your help,” he repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“Are you all right?” She rose from the bed and moved to his side, gently pulling his hand from his face. His eyes were wide and mildly blood shot from the harsh attack they had just received.

“What kind of dream?” he asked, throwing her off by the change in subject.

“Um . . . well it was of you– and your life,” she stuttered. “Well, I suppose your past. And you were planning something with these other men, and I didn’t want you to, but you wouldn’t listen to me. And there was this glass door, filled with green fire. I could see your life in it. You and your family, before – when you were happy. But then it all stopped and you were sad, and afraid.”– she sucked in a breath and continued. “And then I saw other parts of your life. The first time you killed a man. And there was a woman and you were in love with her, and she died. Then there was this monster made of fire and he came after us, but I got away, and when I looked back the glass door didn’t have anymore fire in it and I could see you on the other side . . . The beast had killed you.”

The tale came out of her in a rush, as if it had been building up inside her waiting to break lose. The last words were a half whisper followed by a thick silence in which Crystal studied Joseph for any sign of understanding. However, he only stared at her, not really seeing her at all.

“Joseph?”

He blinked and the far away look in his eyes disappeared. “I wish you hadn’t told me that,” he said hoarsely. He jerked a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket and slipped one out.

“Why not?”

Joseph put his cigarette in his mouth and lit a match to its tip. Watching as the end ignited, the flame dancing for an instant before subsiding into a red ember. He took a slow drag of the rolled tobacco and let the smoke fill his lungs. It did little to calm his nerves as he’d hoped. ‘You were in love with her , and she died.’ Crystal didn’t seem to realize that she was the woman. He knew it was her, just as it was her in his dream.

“Crys, when you dream of your own death you would think you’d be a little more cautious.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know I had a dream too, and in it . . . you died.” He cupped her face with the palm of his hand. “I can’t let that happen.”

Crystal stared at him speechless. She covered his hand with her own and finally found her voice. “I don’t want my dream to come true.”

He watched her sadly. “I’m not sure if what we saw in our dreams was a warning or destiny. But I’m sure of this, even if you’re the only one that can help me, it would hurt you and I can’t bear to hurt you.”

Crystal closed her eyes, hearing the familiar words he’d never spoken before. “No.” She shook her head furiously, tears spilling from her eyes once more. “No, don’t say that. Please don’t say that.”

In her mind’s eye she could see the events that followed those words. The giant fire beast charging at them. Him shoving her to safety. His motionless body limp on the floor. “You have to let me help you,” she whispered peering up at him with pleading eyes.

A muscle jerked in his jaw, but he wouldn’t give in. “You have to go.” He backed away from her, unable to meet her gaze.

“No, please, Joseph.” She took a step forward but he continued to back away. “Stop whatever your doing. I don’t want to lose you.”

He gave a dull bitter laugh. “I’m already lost.”

“No!” her voice was a shriek as she ran at him and threw her arms around him, her tears soaking his shirt. “I couldn’t take it if something happened to you.”

Joseph stroked her hair soothingly.“I won’t let you die for me.”

She lifted her head, her gaze anguished. “Neither of us has to die.”

“We’ll both die eventually, but you’re gonna be an old woman before that time comes.”

“And what about you?”

“I pray I don’t live so long."

With that he led her to the door and she was too overwhelmed to resist. He opened the door and peered into the hall, then turned to her. “Promise me you won’t come back here tomorrow.”

“What are you going to do to me if I do?” she said attempting to give a playful smile, though it came out more like a grimace.

“It’s not me doing anything that I’m worried about,” he said somberly, he crossed the bedroom and snatched her discarded cloak off the chair and came back, draping it around her shoulders. “Promise me you won’t come looking for me, please.”

She nodded, seeing that he was serious, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “Be careful, whatever you do, just be careful.”

“I will.” He returned her embrace, selfishly hoping this wouldn’t be the last time he ever saw her. When he pulled away he looked her straight in the eyes. “Now go straight home, don’t stop until you’re there.”

“I won’t,” she pulled the hood of her cloak up and with a trembling goodbye hurried down the hall. Not looking back. She never noticed that Joseph trailed her all the way to Rosedown.

*******

Please continue: "Chapter Fourteen: Destruction"