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He was in an embarrassing state now. He took several steadying breaths and decided he’d better go back to his room and take care of the situation. But he took a wrong turn and found himself wandering into a part of the estate Marlowe hadn’t shown him, where all the furniture was still covered by white sheets like a summer lodge closed for the off-season. He heard a commotion and followed the sound to a large bathroom where two men in gray suits had hold of a haunted-looking woman in a nightgown who struggled weakly against their hold.
“Say, what’s going on here?” Jericho said.
One of the men looked up, glaring at Jericho for just a second before correcting it with a pained smile. “A mental patient Mr. Marlowe’s trying to help. Tough case.”
The woman’s dark hair was half out of its braid. She reminded him a little of the woman he’d seen in his strange dream. “Help me, please!” she pleaded.
“Go on, now. Give the poor girl her dignity,” one of the men said. His voice was full of sympathy, but he had a firm grip on the woman’s arm, and Jericho’s brain tried to make sense of those two inconsistencies. His gut told him something wasn’t quite right, but he had no reason not to believe what the men were telling him. He backed away and let them pass by.
“Tell my sister I am here!” the woman called to Jericho over her shoulder.
“Now, now, Anna. You’re only hurting yourself,” one of the dark-suited men tutted. They were outright dragging her now, her heels thudding a protest against the wooden floors.
“I say my name! Anna!” the woman cried, her voice strained to breaking. “Anna Provenza, Anna Provenza, Anna Provenza!”
A BETTER AMERICA
1917
Department of Paranormal
Hopeful Harbor, NY
Rotke and Will walked through the estate’s lush gardens. It was coming up on spring. Early pink flowers pushed through the green caul of their buds. But Rotke was worried. “You haven’t told him yet, have you?”
Will stopped to watch a sparrow building a nest on the limb of an oak. “It’ll be the end of our friendship. Jake is not accustomed to losing.”
Rotke peered up at him, and Will lost himself in her deep brown eyes. He had never known anyone who could make him feel like both a useless schoolboy and a lion at the same time.
“Don’t wait too long and let him find some other way, my love.” She kissed him gently and smiled. “Mrs. William Fitzgerald. I like the sound of that.”
The Founders Club fellows were leaving Jake’s library as Will entered. He nodded curtly as they passed by.
Seeing Will, Jake grinned and waved him over. “Ah! Here’s my favorite ghost explorer now. You’re just in time. Ames has brought around some delicious lemonade.”
“What was that about?” Will asked, taking a seat. He put up a hand to the lemonade and rolled a cigarette instead.
“I thought you didn’t like to think too much about where our money comes from.” Jake poured himself a glass of lemonade from a crystal decanter. “They wanted a report on Project Buffalo. That’s their right, since they funded it.”
“I don’t like them,” Will grumbled, striking a match.
“Eugenics, Will. The scientific eradication of inferior traits for a better America. That’s the future.”
“That’s not science, Jake. You know that. Or you used to know it.”
“I’ve changed my mind. All these foreigners coming into the country, polluting our ideals. This war with Germany.” He shook his head. “Fix the bloodline and you fix our troubles. We’ll build a superior race of Americans.”
“What about Margaret? What about Rotke?” Will challenged. His heart was beating fast. He had to tell Jake. He would tell Jake. He—
“Margaret is a pot stirrer. Always seeing trouble.” Jake sighed as if exasperated by a tantruming child. “But I’ve already begun working on Rotke.”
A chill passed through Will. “You’ve… wait. What do you mean?”
From his pocket, Jake fished out a vial of blue serum. “I’ve isolated the Diviner strain. And I’ve cleansed her blood of Jewishness.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Jake?”
“I’ve been injecting her with the purification serum for weeks now.”
