Capturing the Devil (Stalking Jack the Ripper #4)(100)

Unaware of or unconcerned with the reaction the letter had brought about, Dr.

Rosen slid the mortuary drawer closed, removing the mutilated corpse from our sight. “The note was tucked into her bodice. We found it only after she’d been brought here.” He seemed to deliberate on his next words. “It had actually been nailed to her body along with a rose.”

Thomas had been otherwise distracted by the note, no doubt reliving the taunts sent to the police last autumn. At this, his attention snapped up.

“Where?” His clipped tone was neither polite nor merely inquisitive. I’d never heard him demand anything before. He could be arrogant and slightly obnoxious during an investigation, yes, but there was always a lightness to it.

There was no such levity in his voice now. He sounded exactly like the dark prince he was. “Describe precisely where it was on her person.”

Dr. Rosen faced us, crossing his arms against his chest. “It was nailed to her heart.” He glanced from Thomas to me, coming to some other decision. “It’s not going to be mentioned in the papers. You are here as a favor I owe Dr.

Wadsworth. Do not make me regret my generosity.” He nodded to one of the

guards who was peering in through a window cut high in the door. “Speaking of, I’ve heard there’s another body en route to your residence as we speak. A young woman who worked here, actually. Since she wasn’t found on the fairgrounds, they didn’t wish for me to examine her. You might want to hurry along. I’m sure Dr. Wadsworth will be waiting.”

I thanked Dr. Rosen for allowing us in to see the body, though Thomas hadn’t uttered a single word after demanding the information about the note. He kept to himself as we followed members of the guard back through the corridors, only reacting when I seemed to slip over the smooth floor in my haste to get out of the underground metropolis. He kept his hand at the small of my back, as if simultaneously assisting me and reassuring himself I was still there. I doubted he was aware he was even doing it. His mind seemed a hundred miles away.

I waited until we were tucked into the carriage before inquiring into his black mood. He sat across from me on a bench seat and turned dark eyes on me. I shivered.

“What’s gotten into you?” I asked. I was disturbed that our doubts had been eradicated about Jack the Ripper, but there was something else happening with him.

He’d shifted back into that strange Thomas. The one who didn’t move, who seemed to be frozen on the outside while a molten core seethed within. It took a moment, but he finally released the tension he’d been holding. He stretched his legs out in the carriage, but it still wasn’t entirely large enough for him to be comfortable. He was careful to avoid hitting my leg, though I wasn’t sure if it was out of worry over hurting me or his desire to not touch me. Either way, I recognized it for what it was: a show of nonchalance he didn’t feel.

“Thomas?” I asked again. “Tell me.”

He leaned forward and I instinctually met him halfway. Instead of whispering in my ear, he rapped the window of our carriage, grabbing the attention of our driver.

“Sir?” the driver called.

“North Side. Near the theater district. I’ll show you where when we’re close.”

“Yes, sir. North Side it is.”

Thomas settled back against his seat, watching me absorb our change of destination.

“Shouldn’t we head straight to Uncle?” I tried not to let trepidation slip into my tone. “We really shouldn’t dally. You know how he gets when there’s a body

to inspect.”

Something I’d never seen directed at me flashed in Thomas’s features before he reined himself back in. Anger. A leash I hadn’t realized he’d been wearing slipped, if only for a fraction of a breath. Thomas was furious.

“I’m sure he’ll understand. Especially when we inform him there’s no longer any doubt Jack the Ripper has returned. Nor will he mind when he discovers our murderer has set his sights on someone else. Likely, he’s been coveting her from the start.”

His jaw clenched so hard I worried he might chip a tooth. I reached for him, trying to soothe his black mood. “Thomas…”

“A rose was nailed to her heart, Wadsworth.” He seemed to be on the verge of combustion. I realized his anger was not directed at me. He was ready to attack the man responsible for all these deaths. I sat back and pulled my overcoat close. I wouldn’t want to encounter this Thomas in a darkened alley. This Thomas seemed utterly lethal and unpredictable. “Do you find it a bit odd? That he’d leave such a dramatic gift?”

“A gift?”

“Yes. A gift. He’s sent you his own morbid bouquet. Presented with a corpse you would never mistake for anyone’s work but his own.”

Thomas released a breath. The action brought some of his self-control back. I knew he would never hurt me, but it was still jarring to witness him transform into someone so deadly. It all crashed into clarity for me—Thomas would no longer simply slip inside the mind-set of a murderer, should anything happen to me. He’d become one. He would destroy those who hurt me, and he’d feel nothing in the process of his methodical slaughter. I wanted to chide him for that, but knew I’d feel the same way should anyone hurt him. I’d disembowel the world and bathe in its blood if someone murdered him.