Jenny Plague-Bringer(59)

Juliana and Sebastian smiled at each other. Such a fantastic city to enjoy, and such an amazing amount of money with which to do it.

They explored the streets, shaded by the old trees and dappled with summer sunlight. Juliana bought herself new gloves and two dresses at a boutique, including a chiffon evening gown with flapper-style beadwork on the long sleeves—she felt like she should have something nice if she was traveling to Europe. She picked out a simple white collared shirt and trousers for Sebastian, after he vetoed a couple of fancier embroidered options.

They explored the city market, a few blocks of long, low sheds full of vendor stalls, the area marked by “Market Hall,” a building that looked like an ancient Greek temple, complete with columns and a sculpted triangular pediment. Juliana was reminded of the impressive courthouse in Fallen Oak. Many of the merchants were black men and women in colorful clothing, who spoke among themselves in some sort of African language she couldn’t begin to understand.

They ate a gumbo of shrimp, sausage, corn, and potatoes, served by a woman who called it “Beaufort Boil.” It was so thick their spoons could almost stand up in the broth.

They went to a picture show, where Juliana hoped to see the popular new Mae West film, but the theater was showing a monster movie called King Kong instead, which Sebastian was pleased to discover. They held hands as the lights went down in the smoky theater. Juliana was impressed by the movie’s special effects, but she spent most of the time kissing and caressing Sebastian in the dark.

At sunset, they met up with Mr. Barrett, who took them for supper at a tavern by the docks. It was a dingy, dark, and loud place and served some of the tastiest food Juliana had ever eaten—shrimp with a kind of barbecue sauce, crabs, and fried balls of cornmeal called “hushpuppies.” Barrett talked a lot about the history of Charleston and South Carolina, but said little about Juliana and Sebastian’s coming voyage.

Afterward, they went to a speakeasy where a live band played bouncing, brassy jazz that made Juliana want to dance. The place served Caribbean rum and didn’t bother being discreet about it, probably because the Prohibition laws were crumbling—beer was already legal again, and there was talk that full repeal of the Eighteenth Amendment was on the way.

From their wobbly table in the back, Juliana watched the city girls dancing on the crowded floor, dressed in their extravagant feather hats and fringed dresses that left much of their legs bare. They drank, smoked, and flirted freely with the boys, and Juliana thought they were quite glamorous.

“Come and dance,” Barrett said after a few minutes, reaching for Juliana’s gloved hand.

“I can’t! There are too many people,” Juliana told him. “It’s dangerous for you, too, Mr. Barrett.”

“I very much prefer that you call me ‘Jonathan,’” he told her, not for the first time.

“As you like,” Juliana said.

“I would like for you to dance. You won’t see great jazz bands like this in Europe. Enjoy it while it lasts.” Barrett stood and held out his hand expectantly.

“I don’t know...” Juliana looked at the crowded floor, then at Sebastian. He gave a shrug and raised his glass, acting indifferent.

“Come along, before the night grows old and dies,” Barrett said. He took her arm just above the elbow, protected by her long-sleeved dress, which already had her hot and sweating in the crowded nightspot.

Juliana rose from her chair and swayed under the influence of dark rum as he led her to the dance floor. She did her best to imitate the swinging arms and wide steps of the other girls. Barrett himself was a skilled dancer and led her as best as he could. She laughed at herself but kept moving, unable to resist the fast-paced siren song of the nine-piece brass band and the beautiful dark-skinned lady who sang in front of them. The tunes were light, all about dancing and flirting, though they grew more ribald as the night flowed on.

While she was lost on the crowded dance floor with him and out of Sebastian’s sight, Barrett stole a kiss from her, in spite of the danger, and her demon plague did not hurt him at all. Juliana would have slapped him, but she was too stunned at finding him immune to her power.

Much later, the three of them staggered out into the street, the stiff breeze off the ocean very welcome after the thick, smoky air of the speakeasy. They clambered into Barrett’s car, and he swerved wildly as he drove them away. Juliana closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of the wind.

Barrett’s apartment in Charleston was the top floor of a regal old Tudor mansion with a walled courtyard full of flowers and wrought-iron staircases. He swayed heavily as he led them up to an apartment furnished with dark wood, the tall windows hung with thick curtains, creating the same tomb-like feeling as his house in Fallen Oak. Juliana had her own guest bedroom, while Sebastian slept on a long leather couch in the sitting room, which had to be more comfortable than his cot in the roustie tent.