“Jehson.”
Victorious, Mrs. Ranulf beamed at the students and began to clap. A few students joined in with cheerless applause. Harrison resumed kicking as he was ferried out of the room, and Munroe folded her arms.
“You see,” her mother said. “Those who follow in a path of purity are given many great gifts. We can be leaders.” She looked at Mariana again. “But you must be honest with us. So if any of you know of someone—”
Tobias straightened. For a moment, he considered giving them Jack’s name. If anyone could handle him, it would be the Purgators. But something stopped him. I want to choke the life out of him myself. I want to watch his eyes bulge as I cut off the air in his throat, starving his brain of oxygen like he did to Eden.
A wave of horror washed through him. I’m becoming like him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Jack
Jack woke in the dark, tangled in his silky gold bedsheets. He had the strangest feeling that someone had been sitting on his chest, but there was no one in the room. Alexandria wouldn’t come in here, would she? Sweat soaked the fabric beneath him, and a cramped hamstring contorted his right leg. He gritted his teeth, waiting for the pain to subside. When his muscles relaxed, he sat up, wiping his hand across his damp forehead. He would have to make the trip to Virginia sooner than he’d thought.
With trembling legs, he rose from his bed. He opened his oak dresser, pulling out a pair of gray pants, a thin blue T-shirt, and a black cashmere sweater. After dressing himself, he stumbled to the bathroom and turned on the tap, splashing his face with cool water. Hunger clawed at his stomach. He studied himself in the mirror. The red blood vessels in my eyes certainly bring out the blue.
He shuffled toward the kitchen. A loaf of fresh bread lay on the counter, and he cut himself a slice. The first bite was soft, but as he chewed, it began to taste like sawdust in his mouth. Bread wouldn’t satisfy this hunger.
A delicious smell wafted in from the living room—patchouli, but also something sweet—something like almonds and honey. Alexandria. She slept on the sofa with her arms outstretched, a faint glow from her laptop lighting her face. Her hair spread around her head like she was underwater. He bit his lower lip so hard that a drop of salty blood trickled into his mouth.
He kneeled down in front of her, eyes roving over the tattooed symbols on her arms. From the crook of her elbow, a black-socketed death’s-head stared out at him. It was the symbol for caput mortuum, the decaying remains left over from an alchemical operation. And it was what his own face would look like if he didn’t satiate his cravings.
His mouth watered, and he inched closer to her neck, inhaling deeply. She shifted in her sleep, and he stumbled back, his eyes wide. I need her alive.
He jumped up, hurrying back to his bedroom. I must get out of here. He pulled on a pair of socks and his black Oxfords. Swinging open the closet door, he yanked out a black shoulder bag and stuffed a few shirts and wool sweaters in. Arms shaking, he pulled on his coat and scarf, shambling into the living room. He grabbed a spell book, five bars of gold for the Earl, and a half-melted candle, shoving them into his bag. He paused, staring down at the bag. Why am I taking a candle? My mind isn’t working right.
He scanned the shelves for two small bottles of dried flowers suspended in oils: wolfsbane and cinquefoil. These would get him to Charles City in no time. After pulling on a hat, he yanked open his door, stumbling down the stairs and into the chilly night. Salem’s streets were empty. It must be around three a.m. The air smelled of blooming dogwood trees—a filthy, human scent, like a teenage boy’s bedsheets.
He turned onto Federal Street, dragging himself past the dark and crooked timber-frame houses that lined the sidewalks.
What will George Percy think when I arrive, mud-spattered and trembling? The old Earl had only a tenuous relationship with reality, anyway. Ruling Jamestown during the starving years had permanently muddled the man’s brain. Something must have snapped the first time the Earl had found himself feasting on a young girl’s corpse. Still, he was the best alchemist Jack had ever known, and a few bars of gold would secure his healing skills.