Ripper (23 page)

“And then you never die … ” I said, feeling a twinge of yearning even against my will.

Dr. Bartlett cleared his throat. “You
can
die—the elixir doesn't prevent that. We can die by accident, through physical trauma. But we do not age, or become ill. The elixir keeps us from dying of
natural
causes.”

“I see.”

The wind picked up; the tree leaves rattled hard above us.

Dr. Brown spoke next. “We're here to ask you to join the Conclave. As you observed last night, we have already conducted this year's elixir ritual; Max guards the house during the ceremony, and his ritual occurs later. We plan to offer you the elixir tonight, and then after that you may take it yearly with the four of us.”

“And if I choose not to?”

They were both silent. But I knew. There was no real choice.

I felt seduced by the idea, drawn to being immortal. But they were murderers. I had seen them kill, brutally. I lost my friend to them.

No Abbie. You can't be in league with them. Leave them. Now.

“No. I do not accept.”

I turned before I could see their expressions, walking fast past the ponds across the grassy park. The wet wind beat at me hard and I clutched my coat closer. Thunder roared in the distance as a storm blew in. I increased my walk to a furious pace.

Now I had to warn William and Simon. And we had to come up with a plan, because we were as good as dead.

Twenty-four

I
had only walked about a mile out of the Heath when someone from behind grabbed my wrist, hard.

“What were you
thinking
?”
William demanded. His face was furious as he spun me around. “Where were you? We've been looking all over for you! Why would you leave us when you know that they're after you?”

I shook William off me. “I had a meeting with them in the park. I knew you would never let me go alone, so I went by myself to meet them. I said no.
I refused their offer, William.
I hope you know what this means for us.”

I saw Simon standing behind him. If they had quarreled, Simon was now perfectly composed.

“So what do we do?” William asked. “Max could show up any time.”

“I don't know. I
don't know.”

Grandmother.
She would be back in our house tonight. Although I often went out during the day, to go to the library or on walks, if I didn't come home tonight she would certainly call the police. I also thought of Max. Who knew how many people he might kill to get to me?

“We can't flee,” I told William. “Apart from Max finding us, we have to stop them. So that no one else dies. And we should warn Christina. Max knows now that she knows of the papers.”

“Abbie's right,” Simon said.

Max could be trailing us right now. But at least we were alert; I felt as if Christina and Perdita were sitting ducks in their house. Max could already be there.

“And Christina's friends,” I said.

“Fortunately, all of them are living on their own now. So this is a rare occasion where it's just Christina, Perdita, and me,” William said quickly.

Evening was setting in. The rain had stopped, but the wind and rumble of thunder had picked up. Christina's house was only a few miles away, but time was of the essence. Immediately, we caught a carriage. We were only a few blocks away when the traffic became heavy.

William, agitated, began cursing, swearing. “Let's get out and run for it!”

Then the vision hit me, and I saw a shadowed passageway. The flounce of a mint-green dress.

Mary!
I realized in horror. Max was following her.

No. No. No.

“Mary! He's after Mary!” I yelled. “Stop the carriage.”

“A vision?” Simon asked.

“Yes,
yes
.
He's behind her. Following her now. He's going to kill her.”

I jumped out of the carriage. There was no time to explain. I began running hard and fast toward the East End, hoping that Simon and William would follow me, be able to keep up with me.

I heard William shouting my name from far behind me. “Abbie!”

When the vision came again, I saw a door—Mary's front door.

As the vision broke into my consciousness again, I could see that Mary still had no idea Max was behind her. She was singing, and then humming a tune. The words to her song came out in her thick Irish accent, which I knew she always took great pains to cover on a daily basis. Lost in her song, she had no idea he was behind her.

He is behind you. He is behind you.

I ran faster, until my chest felt as if it would explode.

I'm coming, Mary. I'm coming.

I ran hard, only concerned with getting to her.

I heard a key in a lock. The key paused.

She knew
.
She knew now he was behind her.

I heard a muffled scream. It was too late. He had pushed her into the room and slammed the door shut.

“
No!
”
I yelled out loud.

I ran. I was almost there.

Just as I reached the Miller's Court alleyway, I heard the slam of a door, saw a shadow disappear with unbelievable speed into the dark.

I stood in front of her door.

“Mary.” My voice croaked.

I opened the door. Everything in the small, single-room dwelling was dark except for a roaring fire in the fireplace.

Then I saw it—a mangled mess in the bed. The fire roared high in the small fireplace. In the flicker of the fire flames, I saw the black shine of blood.

No. No.
I felt cold. I felt frozen. I could not even vomit as I did when I witnessed the murders of Cate and Liz.

Someone pushed me back into the wall. I vaguely wondered if it was Max.

“Abbie! Abbie!” William shook me. He was enraged, his face flushed. “What are you
doing
?
What are you doing? You should have waited for us to catch up!”

He had not seen the bed yet.

“It's Mary. Mary Kelly. He killed her.”

William followed my eyes to the bed. Simon was already there, holding a lamp across the bed. He said nothing.

“God
dammit
!”
William exploded.

He turned back to me, his eyes wide.

I began to regain control of my senses. Swallowing hard, I said, “He's angry. Max is mad that I refused their invitation. He is trying to compel me to join, now, showing me what he's capable of.”

As with Mariah, guilt nearly overcame me. Mary died because of me.

But I also felt hate.

William looked as if he was going to say something, then decided not to. Instead, he hugged me hard.

“William.” Simon's voice broke through in the darkness. “Come here.”

William walked over.

I followed him, standing at the foot of the bed and trying not to look at the body, which had been mutilated more than the others—beyond recognition.

“This is not Mary Kelly,” Simon said. His white fingers teased some blood away from the scalp. He held the lamp closer to the body.

“The hair is black. Mary had lighter hair.”

Liliana
.
I pushed past William and Simon, looking at the hair myself. The corpse was not Mary's. But the corpse wore the dress that I had lent Mary.

Mary was the intended victim, but Max had just murdered Liliana.

“Simon is right,” I said. “This is Liliana, her friend. She must have borrowed Mary's dress.” I felt a little guilty at the mighty relief that washed over me that the dead woman was not my friend.

Then my thoughts turned back to the still-living Mary.

“We have to find her. We have to find Mary. She must leave London,
now
. Everyone must be made to believe that this is her. If she is seen alive, she will be killed—Max is on a killing spree. Christina.
Grandmother
,”
I said, almost hysterically. “They could both be in danger. We need to act fast.”

“I'll go find Mary and Scribby,” William said quickly. “You and Simon go warn Christina.”

“But Grandmother … ”

“I'll go to Kensington,” Simon said immediately. I'll tell your grandmother that you're working with Christina at New Hospital tonight. That they were short-staffed. That way, she won't call Scotland Yard.”

I knew Simon was such a favorite with Grandmother that he just might be able to convince her to be all right with that.

“Good, but Grandmother is still in danger … ”

“I'll speak to Richard,” Simon said.

“What can Richard … ”

“You obviously don't know your butler well,” Simon said cryptically. His mouth curved, very slightly.

“What?” I asked, perplexed, but he said nothing; his eyes shone a bit.

It was then, in the roaring firelight while we still stood over the corpse, that I saw William gazing at us. His normally flushed face paled with some sort of realization as he looked at Simon, and then at me. But he remained silent.

“So I'll go to Christina's,” I said. “I'll warn her, and we can all meet up there.”

“Absolutely not,” William said. “You can't go alone.”

“We
have
too! People's lives are at stake and we're wasting time.”

Simon hesitated in the doorway, but he knew I was right. He nodded at me and left.

“No.” William grabbed my arm, but I shook him off.

“Just go find Scribby and Mary. Hurry! I'll see you at Christina's shortly.”

I sprinted away without another word.

I ran fast, and caught a carriage after a few blocks. As it sped away, I saw the moon rise high over the Thames, bright even amidst the rolling thunderclouds. Night had arrived, and I didn't know if I would see another morning.

Twenty-five

C
hristina! Christina!” I shouted as I burst through her front door.

All was silent except for Hugo's barking from far above me, up in William's bedroom where it seemed the dog must be shut in.

“Christina!”

No answer.

I walked through the dining room. A note for William awaited him. It was from Christina—she had gone to work at New Hospital that evening.

A sense of foreboding washed over me. Apart from Hugo's barks, something seemed eerie, too quiet, about the house. When I ran to the parlor, I found it empty too, excepting for the parrot Toby in his cage. A fire roared in the fireplace, illuminating Polidori's face.

Gazing up at the portrait, I considered William's handsome great uncle in a new light.

“You knew,” I whispered. “You knew about all this.”

A loud noise came from another part of the house, near Perdita's bedroom.

My heart pounded in my chest.

As I stood frozen, I tried to think rationally. It was probably Perdita; she could have made the noise. She was almost blind and had poor hearing; she might not have heard me shouting.

Nonetheless, I removed a poker from the fireplace as I crept out of the parlor, into the hallway toward her bedroom.

The bedroom door was slightly open.

Softly, so that I would not scare the old woman, I knocked.

“Perdita?” I whispered, tightening my hold on the poker but concealing it in the folds of my skirt so as not to frighten her.

The door creaked as I pushed it open. The room was small, with very few furnishings. A thin stream of light from a streetlamp broke through a crack in the drawn window curtains, illuminating the bed. A figure lay under the bedcovers. My stomach churned when I saw the pillow covering the face.

I approached the bed cautiously and removed the pillow.

Slamming my hand over my mouth to suppress a scream, I leaped back from the bed. The old woman's cataract-covered eyes stared, lifeless, up in the air. The frozen expression on her face was one of horror.

Max!

Then the vision came over me with great force, a vision of the chalice with the
A Posse Ad Esse
inscription. I fell to my knees, my kneecaps hitting the wooden floor painfully. The poker fell from my hand. This vision was strong and my insides felt on fire. I tried to fight it, to bring myself out; Max could be anywhere, and likely in this room with me. My fear for William and Simon escalated. I hoped they would arrive soon.

I screamed as the vision dissipated and I felt myself lifted with great force.

“No!” I yelled.

Max threw me hard onto the bed. I tried to fight him before he could get me pinned. I kicked, spit; I clawed at him, but he was too fast, anticipating all of my movements. Within seconds he was on top of me, immobilizing me. I wished I could move, even a little, as Perdita's body had jolted into mine during the struggle.

“You killed her, an old woman! And you
killed
my friend!”

Max just smiled in the darkness; it was a satisfied smile. Everything was going his way.

“I heard that you refused Marcus's very polite,
very
generous offer. I was incensed. It was perhaps beneath me, but you see, Abbie, I am a slave to my senses. That is my Achilles heel, some would say. You needed some heavy persuasion—so I thought I would start with your nurse friend.”

Horror washed over me. Max had super-human speed, and I feared for Simon and William—perhaps we had already fallen into a trap where he had killed them first and then met me here to terrify me into joining the Conclave.

“Simon and William! Where
are
they?
What did you do to them?”

Rage surged through me. Max's face was only inches from my own. I lunged upward, biting his cheek hard. I tasted blood.

That made him angry.

I tried to push aside all the visions swarming through my mind of the murders, of how swift he had been in his kills, of what had just happened to Liliana in the bed in a matter of minutes. And now I was in bed with the Ripper. I screamed as, in a single movement, he twisted both my arms above my head, pinning them to the bed behind me with one hand. Shooting pain coursed down my shoulder blades, and, in horror, I realized that somehow Max had brought my skirts high to press a knife blade hard against my thigh. He was on top of me, and I knew, in that moment, that I was completely in his power.

The wound on his cheek was a dark half moon. It would scar. “You're
not
in a position to fight me, Abbie Sharp.”

I glared at him and felt tears come to my eyes as the pain in my thigh intensified. Any moment the blade would break through my skin.

He brought the knife up slowly to my face, running the blade along my cheek. I smelled the rusty scent of blood.

I fought a consuming horror as I realized the full extent of what was happening. This wasn't a second chance. Max had already killed William and Simon. I had refused the Conclave's offer, so now it was my turn. I remembered the corpse on the bed. Mutilated beyond recognition. Max enjoyed this; he would take his time torturing and killing me, a perfect way for him to spend the hours until Christina returned and he could then kill her. After that, everyone who knew the secret and the existence of the Conclave would be dead.

My mind raced, panicked, as I tried to think of a way to escape.

With great force, I bucked my whole body up against him, although I knew the momentum would be useless with his position on top of me. His weight crushed me, and I felt only a little relief as he arched upward, moving the knife slowly from my cheek downward toward my right breast.

I shuddered as he began, almost playfully, cutting the buttons away from the front of my dress. “You are allowed one question.
One
question only.”

He stopped, smiled. Met my eyes. “And I think I know what you're going to ask.”

“What did you do to them, to William and Simon?”

Against my will I began to cry, hoping that their deaths had been fast.

“They're alive.”

My heartbeat quickened as I felt my hopes soar.

“For now.” His look was sharp as he cut away another button. “And I am not going to kill you, at this time. The Conclave has decided to give you another chance. Your
last
chance, Abbie Sharp. The others are collecting William and Simon, and they should soon be at our house. You have a meeting with Julian, Marcus, Robert, and John there, tonight.”

He paused, cutting away another button.

“If you refuse this time, your paramours die.
You
die.”

“And if I accept, you will let them live?”

Max brought the knife downward, back to my upper thigh. I braced myself for a cut, but he just pressed the blade hard against my skin.

“We might negotiate.”

“Leave Christina alone. She knows nothing.”

His eyes glinted at the lie.

“She's safe for now, Abbie. We'll see how you behave.”

I thought about trying to attack him again, but I knew I had to be more cautious now that William and Simon were Conclave prisoners. One wrong move could be disastrous.

He finished cutting the last button off the front of my dress. I knew he had to keep me alive, but I did not know what else he intended to do. Fear coursed through me. He wanted me to be afraid. With great effort, I steadied my breathing and met his eyes. It was a challenge.

“Abbie.” He moved the knife upward to my throat. “I loathe leaving you now, but I must. I have some further Conclave business to attend tonight.”

“More
killing
,”
I spit out.

He pushed the knife harder into my throat and tears slid down my cheek at the sharp pain.

“No
more questions. The others are going to handle the killing tonight if you refuse. They did it for three hundred years before I came onto the scene. However, if something happens and I have to step in, it won't be pretty. So no foolish rescue missions, Abbie Sharp. You have a choice—to live, immortal with us, and
possibly
save your friends, or to die.”

He released some of the pressure of the knife at my throat.

“You are to leave, to go straight to our house. And trust me, love, I'll know if you don't make it there. Everything depends upon you tonight.”

He was silent, contemplating me in the darkness. I held my breath, trying to guess what his next move would be.

He kissed me hard, violently, forcing his tongue into my mouth. I struggled and tried to scream. I smelled, tasted, the blood from his cheek wound. The contact caused my mind to ignite, swirling and enflamed as I saw the chalice, the words, burned into my mind. As before, this vision was so strong it pained me.

Max pulled away, his smile brilliant in the darkness. “It beckons you, Abbie. Goodbye.”

He was gone, disappeared into the darkness. I was alone, frozen, lying on my back on the bed, the dead woman beside me.

I felt trapped. A mouse in a cage. I had no plan. No plan whatsoever. But there would be no chance to save William and Simon if I didn't get to Montgomery Street.