I kept trying to drag myself away, prevent my gaze from lingering on the rotten face and decayed body. But I couldn’t move. It was as if the horror was so intense it had frozen me in place. Time didn’t seem to move. Life outside of this hell didn’t exist.
But the worst part was my emotions. I was disgusted, through and through, but part of me wanted to finish the work he’d started. I hated that piece of me, hated that I yearned for my mother back so much I’d condone this madness. Who was more a monster, my father or myself?
I was going to be ill. I turned, finally listening to my primal instincts, and ran for the stairs. As I rounded the steps, I slammed into a mass of flesh. Warm flesh.
It gripped me back hard and I screamed again. Only when I lifted my gaze did I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Oh, thank God,” I panted, clutching on for dear life. “It’s you.”
Human Hand Anatomized and Preserved, 19th century
TWENTY-EIGHT
JACK THE RIPPER
WADSWORTH RESIDENCE,
BELGRAVE SQUARE
9 NOVEMBER 1888
“Hurry,” I urged, tugging my brother toward the staircase with the kind of super strength awarded those in the throes of deathly terror. “We must leave before Father comes back. Oh, Nathaniel. He’s done terrible things!”
It took several moments to realize my brother wasn’t moving. He was standing, frozen in place, eyes drinking in our surroundings. I grabbed the front of his long overcoat, shaking him until his wide gaze landed on me.
His hair was a wreck, standing out every which way, and it appeared as if he hadn’t slept in days. Dark shadows hung beneath his eyes, giving him a sunken expression. He looked no better than the corpse of our dead mother.
Or whatever that creature was in the coffin. That abomination.
Another shudder wracked my body, almost dropping me to my knees. I couldn’t let him see that. He’d never be the same again. Getting ahold of myself, I stood straighter, easing the boning from my ribs.
“Nathaniel,” I said sternly, taking hold of his hand. “We must leave here at once. I’ll explain on the way to Scotland Yard. Please, let’s hurry. I do not wish to meet Father down here.”
My brother nodded, seeming too shocked to do much more. I led him toward the stairs, our feet reaching the first blessed steps, when he stopped again.
I turned, exasperated, unable to convey the importance of leaving swiftly. If I had to slap him unconscious and drag him up the stairs, so be it. “Nathaniel—”
He latched onto my wrist with a viselike grip, yanking me away from the stairs and deeper into Jack the Ripper’s lair. I struggled against him, not understanding his need to be difficult, when he threw his head back and laughed.
Gooseflesh too terrified to even erupt lurked just under my skin, tinkling with the promise of new fear. He tossed me into a chair near the corner of the room, still chuckling to himself. I blinked. My brother had never handled me so roughly before. Father must have drugged him somehow. It was the only explanation. I rubbed my lower back. A bruise was already forming where I’d hit the chair when he’d thrown me into it.
He didn’t seem to notice. Or care.
“Nathaniel,” I said, trying to sound as calm as possible while he paced in front of me, slapping the side of his head as if silencing voices only he could hear. “Once we leave, I’ll fix you a tonic. It’ll cure whatever’s ailing you. Whatever Father gave you, we’ll make better. Uncle will know precisely what to do. You have to trust me, all right? We stick together. Always. Isn’t that right?”
Nathaniel stopped laughing, his gaze zeroing in on me with an icy precision. He lowered his hands from the side of his head before cocking it. Right then he was a predator in every sense of the word.
“Dear, dear Sister. I’m afraid you’ve got it terribly wrong. For once, Father isn’t responsible for what’s afflicting me. This is all my doing.”
“I don’t understand… you’ve been taking elixirs yourself?” I shuddered. “Have you… have you been abusing laudanum, too?” My brother had been under severe stress. I wouldn’t be surprised if he turned to the cure-all tonic. Hallucinations weren’t unheard-of when it was taken in large doses. “It’s okay,” I said, reaching for him. “I can help you. We’ll both go to Thornbriar until you’re well.”
Reaching his arms out to either side, he spun proudly in place. Acting as if this were all his…
“No.” I shook my head, blinking disbelief away. It couldn’t be. Life wouldn’t be so cruel. It just wouldn’t. Tears pooled in my eyes before rushing down my face. This could not be. I was going to be sick. I lurched forward, clutching my stomach and rocking.
Nathaniel paced in front of me, removing a concealed knife from his sleeve. It was roughly six or seven inches in length. The exact size Uncle had predicted Jack the Ripper’s weapon to be.
He ran his fingers tenderly over the bloodstained blade, then set it on the table with the taxidermy bird being ripped apart.
Memories of my brother saving animals, feeding them more than they could hope to eat, crying each time something died in spite of his efforts, filtered into my thoughts. The sweet boy who’d vowed to protect me against our grief-stricken father. This could not be the monster brutalizing women. I would not allow it to be. This lab was not his. These weren’t his experiments. He was not the one who’d done this to our mother.
“Tell me this is a nightmare, Nathaniel.”
Nathaniel knelt before me, wiping my tears away with such gentleness, I sobbed harder. I shook my head again. This was a nightmare. Surely I was sleeping and I’d wake up in Uncle’s house and discover this was a terrible dream.
What a rotten sister I was! Dreaming such things about my beloved brother. The real Nathaniel would never do this. He’d know it would kill me to lose him. He would never do something to hurt me so. He’d never hurt anyone. He just wouldn’t.
“Shhh,” he cooed, smoothing loose hair from my face. “It’s fine now, Sister. I promised you everything would be all right. And it is. I helped exonerate Uncle with those letters. Didn’t I? Though, admittedly, it was rather fun seeing the chaos a bit of bravado and red ink caused. Couldn’t help myself from sending more.”
“You… what?” I felt my nerves unraveling. “This can’t be real.”
Nathaniel lost himself in some reverie before shrugging the memory away. “Anyhow, I think I’ve discovered why you and Mother got sick, and Father and I didn’t.”
He sat on his heels, looking around the room again, exaltation and wonder etched into his normally sunny features.
“Took some time figuring out, and I wish you would’ve waited before coming down here, but no matter.” He smiled, patting my hand. “You’re here now and it’s perfect. I’ve worked out the final touch. All that’s left is a little prick of blood and a bit of electricity. Like in the book. You remember the one, don’t you? Our favorite.”
Another tear slid down my cheek. I wasn’t dreaming, I was sitting in Hell. My brother fancied himself Dr. Frankenstein, and I’d never allow our mother to become his monster. “You cannot bring Mother back from the dead, Nathaniel. It isn’t right.”
He shoved himself away from me, pacing in the orangey glow of his devil’s lab, shaking his head. “What makes it wrong? You, of all people, I thought, would appreciate and understand. This is a breakthrough in science, dear Sister. A feat people will speak of for all time. Our name will forever be attached to the unimaginable. Uncle’s a shortsighted fool. He wishes only to conduct a successful organ transplant. I’ve got something much bigger in mind.”
Nathaniel nodded, as if it were all the convincing he needed. He punched his fingers into an open palm, exposing cuts on his fingertips. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d seen him without gloves on. Now I knew why.
“Until now, people didn’t believe it could be done. Only authors and scientific visionaries like Galvani dared imagining such a wonder. Now I’ve accomplished it! Don’t you see? This is something worth celebrating. People will never forget the scientific breakthrough I’ve made.”