I started to protest, but a voice interrupted. “Mr. Braddock and Miss Wyndham! Two pleasant surprises. You need not have broken in. I would have gladly invited you, had I known you were in town.”
At the far corner, a short, lean man in a white coat stood up at his desk and crossed the room to greet us. As he passed glass jars, tubes, microscopes, and all sorts of equipment that stood in perfect ranks throughout the laboratory, I remembered that I had been here before. In my dream two nights ago.
The searing, clean smell of chemicals sharpened the air, growing stronger as the man approached. Large, almost silver eyes stood out in a waxen face. A normal man, unremarkable in every way, but for those eyes—watery, intelligent, and too pale. He stopped beside Claude and bowed to us.
“It has been too long,” he said. Was he speaking to me? Or Mr. Braddock?
“Where is my sister?” I demanded, refusing to be frightened by this man.
A glint of unexpected intensity and vexation jumped into those eyes. “I’m sorry?” he asked. And seeing that glint of danger, suddenly I was the one who was sorry.
Still, I refused to let my voice fall. “Rose. Small, fair, beloved sister. You took her, now give her back.”
He peered up at Claude in mock confusion. “I apologize. . . . I believe there has been a mistake,” he replied.
“Where is Miss Rosamund?” Mr. Braddock demanded—a darker, more potent anger emanating from him.
“She healed my sister yesterday,” the giant claimed, a horrible liar. “I have not seen her since.”
“Camille saw her locked in here,” I spat out, feeling like a pesky child as I bobbed behind Mr. Braddock’s shoulder, trying to glare at them.
Claude had no response, except a sidelong glance at the smaller man for their next lie.
“Where is she?” Mr. Braddock persisted. He took two steps closer to the scientist. It would have been intimidating, if Claude were not there.
The scientist attempted a soothing voice. “No need for any unpleasantness. I don’t want you breaking all of my doors.”
In the silence, the house creaked rhythmically above us. Footsteps. Claude’s gaze flickered upward for the briefest moment. I glanced back out of the laboratory, noticing another staircase to the third floor. Was my dream right about that, too?
Before I could take a step back, the scientist flashed me a courteous smile. “I don’t believe we have been properly introduced, and Mr. Braddock seems to have quite forgotten his manners. I’m Dr. Calvin Beck—”
Mr. Braddock interrupted with a growl and charged straight at Dr. Beck, who simply looked bored. Claude stepped between the two and caught Mr. Braddock’s tackle. The momentum sent the giant stumbling back, but he managed to stay on his feet, while Mr. Braddock took the chance to wrap himself around Claude. From behind, Mr. Braddock reached under Claude’s armpits and clasped his hands tightly together behind Claude’s head, like a wrestler, locking him in an uncomfortable hold.
Unable to break the tenacious grip, Claude spun around and forced Mr. Braddock backward, slamming him hard into the walls, crashing into bookcases, and finally, in a desperate move, throwing himself out the street window. A shrill, useless scream escaped from my throat as the glass shattered and the cold London air rushed in. The pair disappeared out the window. There was the briefest silence, a thud, and a rattling.
“No!” I rushed forward and could just glimpse Mr. Braddock below, rising to his feet to face his wheezing but uninjured enemy.
“Get yourself out!” Mr. Braddock yelled up at me.
Thank heavens. Still well enough to order me about. But Rose was here, and I would not leave without her.
Legs quivering and hands shaking with nerves, I stumbled past Dr. Beck, who called after me.
“Miss Wyndham! Don’t run away just yet. I wish to speak with you.”
Ignoring him, I made my way out of the room and up to the top of the stairs, where two doors faced me. One opened on a sparse bedroom with three empty beds, so I turned to the other, finding an unlatched padlock on the floor and the door half open. I heard shuffling and movement from within and shoved my way desperately inside to finally find her directly in front of me.
Rose.
It was her. Not some copy, not some actress. I knew it with every beat of my frantic heart. Then terror filled her eyes.
“Evelyn,” she gasped. “He’s in here—”
A hand appeared out of the shadows and clamped over her mouth. And she vanished.
“Rose!”
Without a second thought, I took a desperate lunge into the darkness, reaching for her, her captor, anything. My hand caught fabric—an arm. I squeezed tight and pulled with all my strength, but suddenly I was the one pulled right into the pitch black.