It took him half a second to register that he wasn’t going to be torn to pieces, and then he realised there was a terrible noise on the other side of the door.
Crane jerked it open to reveal Leonora’s two cousins, her aunt and three servants, all shrieking with useless fear. Leonora was on the floor, desperately struggling with the rat on top of her, trying to force its yellow incisors back as it lunged at her neck. He grabbed the thing by tail and haunches, pulled it off her bodily and, for want of a weapon, swung it brutally down against the floor with his full strength, again and again, till something inside it broke.
He dropped the carcass. His ears were ringing. Or no: everyone was screaming.
Leonora was bleeding freely from neck, shoulders and arms, her dress and flesh torn, making a dreadful sucking noise in her throat. Crane knelt by her. “Leo? Leo, talk to me!”
Her eyes were wide and blind with panic, and she grabbed for him with bloody hands, her grip tightening convulsively as a terrible shudder ran through her body.
“Someone should send for Dr. Grace,” quavered Leonora’s aunt inadequately, as the stunned group of onlookers clutched each other and made horrified noises.
“I’ll take her to a doctor.” Crane scooped her up. “Get everyone out of the house. Now.” He didn’t hear footsteps as he ran down the hall, so he yelled over his shoulder, “There may be more rats!” and heard the panicked cries as he wrenched the front door open and tumbled out into the street.
There was a hansom just a few yards away. He shouted at the jarvey. The man looked round, his eyes widened at the sight of the torn and bleeding woman, and he raised his whip to urge the horse on, but a flurry of magpies rose from the railings and took off past him, chattering wildly, their wings skimming his face as they swooped by. The jarvey recoiled in alarm, and by the time the six birds had disappeared, Crane had the carriage door open and was hauling Leo in.
It still cost him valuable seconds of argument and a ludicrous ten pounds to make the jarvey take them to Devonshire Street. The man at least whipped on his horse with alacrity, but even so the ten-minute journey seemed longer than the nights Crane had once spent in a condemned cell waiting for execution. Leonora lay still at first, but as the cab passed up through Piccadilly she began to twitch violently, and she was thrashing around so hard he could barely hold her when the cab jolted to a halt.
“Dr. Gold’s surgery,” said the cabman, yanking open the door. “And—oh my Gawd.”
Crane looked down at Leo in the daylight and swore with spectacular foulness. Her face was, unmistakeably, hideously, swelling, like a bladder inflating under her skin. Her lips were drawn back over teeth that looked very large and very yellow.
Crane dragged her out of the cab, the jarvey’s obscenities ringing in his ears, and stumbled up the steps to the door, where, for want of a free hand, he kicked the door violently until an affronted-looking nurse opened it.
“Dr. Gold,” he gasped, but she was already calling urgently, “Doctor!”
A dark, curly-haired man stuck his head out into the hall. “What’s the pr— Great Scott! Bring her in here. Quick, man, on the couch.”
Crane put his bloody, convulsing burden on the consulting room couch. Dr. Gold told the nurse, “Hot water, now,” grabbing for cloths to stanch the bleeding. “What happened to her?”
“Rats. Giant rats. The ones your wife—”
“Hold her.” Dr. Gold stepped away from Leonora, took two steps to the door and bellowed, “Esther? Esther!” He hurried back to the couch as the nurse brought hot water in, and shooed her away. “Right, you know about my wife’s job? Fine, makes life easier.” He spread his hands over Leonora, and Crane saw his eyes darken as his pupils expanded. “What’s your name? Hers?”
“Crane. She’s Leonora Hart.”
“How long ago did this happen?”
“Fifteen minutes— Oh, thank Christ,” Crane said, almost folding at the knees, as Esther sprinted in, followed by Stephen. Esther went straight to her husband’s side, but Stephen stopped short, eyes widening with horror. “It’s Leonora,” Crane told him. “The rats. The bloody rats got her.”
“Hell’s teeth,” said Esther. “What happened?”
“Are you all right?” Stephen demanded hoarsely.
“Fine.” Crane couldn’t understand why he was asking, until he glanced down at himself and realised that his shirt and trousers were dark with blood. “I’m fine. They didn’t touch me. Not even a scratch. They were trying to kill Leo.”
“Still—trying,” said Dr. Gold through his teeth.