Nathaniel clenched his fists, staring at Thomas like he was a rat that needed to be exterminated immediately. “You must feel extraordinarily clever.”
The smug expression normally kissing Thomas’s face was absent when his eyes found mine. “The only thing I feel is extraordinarily sorry you’ve hurt your sister so deeply.” Thomas glanced around the room, then checked his pocket watch. “I wasn’t jesting about Scotland Yard. I told them a crime was being committed in this house. Either stay and accept your fate or start again new. Be the brother Audrey Rose thought you to be, and the son your father deserves.”
Father looked upon Thomas with appreciation gleaming in his eyes.
Thomas was offering my brother a chance at life. A chance to atone for his sins and still know the police would be looking for him. It wasn’t right, but it was a chance I was willing to take for my family.
I took a deep, shuddering breath and faced my brother. “Either your reign of terror is over, or your life is over. You decide.”
Nathaniel released a nervous bark of laughter before his expression turned cold. “Here’s a warning for you, dear Sister. Should you ever threaten me again, I’ll destroy both you and your idiotic friend before he ever dreams of finding me.”
“Nathaniel.” Father shook his head. “Do not intimidate your sister.”
Nathaniel’s words stung, but not as badly as the icy look he gave me. All the warmth that made him my brother was absent.
Sensing my hurt, Thomas reached for my hand. He was offering me his strength and I gladly accepted. It was time to be finished with this nightmare. I turned to give my brother one last look, hoping to remember him exactly as he was before I walked away. Only he was no longer watching me with those cold, dead eyes.
Grabbing the syringe, he flipped the electrical switch, intent on finishing his unseemly work. Blue and white light hissed and fizzed, cracking the air with its power as it whipped along the needle and into Mother’s coffin. Something wasn’t right, though.
There was disorder to Nathaniel’s process. He was doing things all wrong. He was supposed to inject Mother with the blood first, then flip the switch. But why? My mind whirled as the electrical buzz filled the air.
Nathaniel raised the metal syringe, a startling realization crashing through my mind exactly one second too late.
“No!” I shouted, my voice sucked away with the clamor. Thomas held fast to me as I struggled in his arms. I needed to run to my brother, to save his miserable life. Nathaniel stared, unseeing, through me, and I cried out for him again. “No! Nathaniel, you mustn’t! Let go of me!”
The buzz was overwhelming. It set my teeth clattering and made breathing nearly impossible. My brother appeared unaffected. I shouted again, to no avail.
“Stop this madness, Nathaniel,” Father growled over the din. “I said—”
My brother thrust the syringe into our mother’s chest, metal connecting to metal with nothing protecting him from its surge. Mother’s body lurched forward before collapsing back onto the table and twitching. I tore my gaze from her, desperate to help my brother.
“Nathaniel!” I screamed as he shook in place, unable to drop the metal syringe and disconnect himself from the malevolent current.
A bloody stream poured from his nose and mouth at the same time smoke rose around his collar. I wrestled and kicked like a wild animal refusing to be tamed.
“Let go, Thomas! Let me go.”
“You cannot help him,” Thomas said, his arms fused around my body, caging me. “If you touch him now, you’ll suffer his same fate. I’m sorry, Audrey Rose. I’m so sorry.”
I sunk against Thomas, knowing he’d never let me fling myself into death. It felt like years had passed when suddenly Nathaniel flew back from the force, his body smashing into the wall and crumpling in a heap of smoldering clothes.
Silence blanketed the room like freshly fallen snow. Everything was too quiet and too loud all at once. Even the machines had finally stopped pumping.
Mother’s body jolted once more, then fell still.
I blinked, needing to focus on one horror at a time. My attention shifted to my brother. Nathaniel’s head hung at a fatal angle, but I couldn’t accept it. I wouldn’t. He’d get up. He’d be sore and bruised, but he’d live. My brother was young and he’d survive and make up for his sins. He would apologize and seek help to fix whatever had made him violent. It’d take time, but the old Nathaniel would return to us. I waited, holding my breath. He would rise. He had to.
The scent of burnt hair filled the space and I suppressed rolling nausea.
I watched my father slowly collapse to his knees, covering his face with his hands and sobbing, “My precious boy.”
It was too much to take in. I felt myself swaying but had to be sure of one thing before I lost myself. I peered at Mother’s body, relieved she wasn’t moving. Then a terrible sadness crushed me: Nathaniel’s rampage had been for naught.
“Please. Please get up.” I stared at my brother’s ruined hair. I wanted him to stand up and reach for that blasted comb. He needed to fix it. He’d hate it if someone saw him that way. I silently counted to thirty. It was the longest he’d ever gone without addressing disastrous hair. When I reached thirty-one he still hadn’t moved.
I fell to the ground, dry-heaving as realization sank in.
Nathaniel would never care about his hair again. He’d never drink another bottle of imported brandy. He’d never picnic with a hamper from Fortnum & Mason or help me escape Father’s pretty cell. He’d done horrific things, then left me to pick up the shattered pieces of our lives. Alone.
I screamed until my throat was raw. Thomas tried soothing me, but all I could think was: Jack the Ripper was dead. My brother was dead.
I continued screaming until darkness held me in its welcome embrace.
THIRTY
DEATH TO LIFE
DR. JONATHAN WADSWORTH’S LABORATORY,
HIGHGATE
23 NOVEMBER 1888
“Use the larger bone saw to cut the cranium.”
Uncle’s hands twitched, but he didn’t reach for the blade. He knew I needed the distraction more than he needed to perform this postmortem. I took a deep breath and pushed with all my might, moving the serrated edge back and forth.
This time I wore a facial mask to avoid breathing in bone dust.
I’d watched Uncle do this procedure many times now and had learned there were some things I did not wish to be exposed to.
Two long weeks had passed since we’d buried Nathaniel next to Mother. Father was more remote than ever and I was slowly losing myself to insanity. The house felt empty, sullen, as though mourning its own loss. It was amazing how much one person could fill up a space and leave it so hollow when they were gone.
Nothing was the same, nor ever would be again. Not only did I lose my brother, I had to suffer through the knowledge of the murderer he’d been the last months of his life. Lord Edmund covered up Nathaniel’s involvement, I didn’t ask how. One day I’d let everyone know the truth, but the pain was too raw now.
A tear slid down my cheek, but I continued sawing into the skull, not bothering to wipe it away. Some days were better than others. On good days I only cried myself to sleep. On the bad I found myself tearing up randomly throughout the day.
“Good. Now lift the top part of the skull up,” Uncle said, motioning toward the top half. It reminded me of the small side of an egg. “Might offer some resistance at first, but it’ll suction off with the right amount of pressure. Stick the scalpel in and pry it.”
I did as I was instructed. The top of the skull pulled off with a slurping noise, not unlike a sealed jar being opened. An unpleasant scent lingered in the space around us, apparent even through my mask.