These Vicious Masks: A Swoon Novel(60)

No response. The entire apartment sat silent. She was nowhere to be found in the other two rooms. A chill ran down my spine as I rushed to open the front door and stepped out into the vacant hall. Why had she just left without warning?

“What a pleasant surprise, Miss Wyndham.”

Smiling up at me from the lower staircase landing was my answer. Dr. Beck.





No. No. No.

Not him. Not now. Not this way.

No one even knew where I was. My breath caught, and I fumbled for words before realizing that I should have been running. I bounded upstairs past the second floor, third, fourth, the clatter of footsteps following from one flight below. My chest heaved and my cravat flapped wildly out of my open waistcoat as I pushed myself forward. My suit was less cumbersome than a dress, but it was of no help to me once I burst through the roof door and stumbled outside. A vacant roof, a single entrance, and a five-story drop. The setting sun over the London skyline pleasantly bade me good-bye.

“Miss Wyndham, please.” Dr. Beck and Claude had already caught up, standing by the door. “If you will oblige us for just a few minutes.”

“No, I am in a bit of a hurry, thank you,” I shouted back.

Camille poked her wrinkled head out the roof door behind them.

“You called them?” I shouted at her. “Why?”

She gave me a sort of frowning smile as if I’d asked a stupid question. “I told you. There’s no greater pleasure than removing one mask to reveal another.” She turned to Dr. Beck. “Are we finished?”

“We are. Go enjoy this beautiful evening,” Dr. Beck said with a pleasant smile.

She nodded and shut the door with an aching metal wail.

“You were seconds away from death the other night,” Dr. Beck said. “Yet you still persist in chasing us. It seems stubbornness runs in your family.”

A strong wind rushed in from the west, sending my hair flailing across my face. My heart thumped for Rose. She was still alive, then. I felt flushed, tense, seething. My mind flashed through hundreds of painful fates for him if only I had Mr. Braddock’s abilities.

“Don’t you dare hurt her!” The empty threat escaped against my better judgment.

Dr. Beck took slow steps forward and shook his head. “You keep insisting one girl’s comfort is far more important than millions of other lives. Do you understand how ridiculous you sound?”

He didn’t deserve a response.

“You attend church, yes?” he asked. “Of course you do. Why is it acceptable that martyred saints and even ‘the Son of God’ can sacrifice themselves all for a set of beliefs? The actual results from those sacrifices are still up for debate, while the possibilities that stem from Miss Rosamund’s are as clear as day to anyone—and you cannot accept it.”

There was nothing else to do, nothing to say. I could hear people from the street below, but could they hear me? Could I call for help without Dr. Beck knowing? Backing up to the edge of the roof, I lashed out the way I knew best. Loudly.

“Even with your power, you’re still a terrible scientist! There’s a reason your fellow scientists ridicule you,” I yelled. “It’s because they—”

“—know my work is going to accomplish nothing and help no one?” Dr. Beck finished calmly. A look of mild amusement unfurled across his face. “I’m sorry, I took the words out of your mouth. Please, continue.”

Oh, God. A frightening revelation struck me. It explained how he could block my attacks, how he responded to unfinished sentences, how Arthur and William saw that he never made mistakes, how he always had a plan. Was it possible? It existed in myths, but . . .

“You—you . . . can see—”

Dr. Beck smiled serenely at me. “The future, yes, Miss Wyndham. I am impressed. Now you know I am not exaggerating when I tell you I am one step ahead of you. I was born to be one step ahead of you. I will know if someone is coming through this door before he himself even knows. And I can assure you with complete confidence, no one noticed your plea for help, no one cares, and no one is coming.”

I didn’t know how it felt to have the life sucked out of me, but his words managed a close approximation. He could see the future, and he was only admitting everything because he knew I was going to be dead in less than a minute.

Dr. Beck met Claude’s eye and nodded in my direction, and the giant stomped closer. Dear God, this was really the end of me. What a stupid way to go. Strangled, stabbed, bones broken, maybe all three at once. I had to do something. Anything. And then I saw it. As I moved toward the corner of the roof, another building came into view. It was right next to us, one story lower, a manageable jump, an actual escape.

“Stop her!” I heard Dr. Beck yell.

I took off in a sprint.

My shoes smacked across the thick stone roof and crinkled over the small gravel pits. The steady rumble of Claude’s tread followed me doggedly. I could feel him moments away from grabbing me, but I caught sight of the ledge, a few long strides away, and the simple plan burned into my mind. Just run, jump over it, and live. That’s all I had to do.

So I leaped, my glimpse of heavenly freedom on the opposite building moving closer, closer, within reach. My stomach floated up weightlessly as my jump became a drop. My chest hit the edge of the roof hard, knocking out my breath. As I slid back, my hands scrambled to grasp brick, rock, anything, for God’s sake, please.