Capturing the Devil (Stalking Jack the Ripper #4)(107)

“I love you, Thomas Cresswell.” I kissed him gently, before straightening. I permitted myself another stolen moment alone with him, then forced myself to stand and leave his side. I needed to complete my task and be home before he awoke.

Because I would come home to him again.

I tiptoed out of his chamber, taking careful pains to mind each creak in the floor as I passed Uncle’s room. I paused at his door, hearing the same rhythmic breaths indicating deep sleep. Hopefully they’d both continue to mend. If I lost anyone else I cared for…

Vengeance settled around me like a demon on my shoulder. I slipped into my room and locked the door behind me, though I wasn’t sure who I was locking out. Abandoning my growing worry, I flung clothing around my trunk, searching for a small leather pouch. It had to be here somewhere; I never traveled without it.

After upending nearly all of my dresses and underthings from my trunk, I held up the item I’d been hunting. I quickly undid the buckles, laying my scalpel belt across my bed. It had been quite some time since I’d last slipped it over my leg. I set it aside and stepped into trousers that were easy to move about in, then picked it back up.

My fingers shook as I fastened the scalpel belt together. As much as I longed to eradicate my fear, it seemed it wasn’t quite ready to give me up. I took a few steadying breaths. I could not lose my nerve now. Not when so many lives depended on me.

I thought of Miss Nichols. And Miss Chapman. Miss Stride and Miss Eddowes. Miss Kelly, Miss Tabram, Miss Smith. Miss Jasper. Miss Van Tassel.

And all the women we’d yet to connect to him.

I swept my hair up in a low knot, checked the weapon on my thigh, then grabbed my cane.

“I’m coming for you, Jack,” I whispered to myself in the looking glass. It might have been a trick of the lighting, but I swore my reflection shivered.

“Hello, have you come for one of Dr. Holmes’s famous tonics or are you interested in a room in the luxurious World’s Fair Hotel?”

The young woman standing beside the ornate cash register was undoubtedly another victim in waiting. I eyed her pale blond locks, her expertly painted lips, her youth. She was handsome in the way that seemed to matter to Henry or Harry or whoever this man was claiming to be. From what Minnie had mentioned during tea, outward appearances held the most value to him, though lives didn’t matter half as much; those he could toss away without a care.

“I am actually a friend of Dr. Holmes’s wife,” I said, noting the slight narrowing of her eyes at the word wife. Here was another secret he’d apparently kept. She needn’t worry. I was quite sure his new wife was dead. “I was hoping to speak with him. I haven’t been able to get in touch with Minnie and needed her sister’s address. Is he in?”

She pursed her lips. After a moment of collecting herself, she offered me another polite smile. “I’m afraid you missed him by moments. He won’t return until very late, or possibly tomorrow morning. It’s only my first day working here, but Dr. Holmes seems to be very mysterious about his private affairs.”

Her blush hinted that he’d already begun weaving a silvery web for her to get trapped in. Little did she know he was a venomous spider and not a handsome prince.

“I’ll rent a room for the night, then.” I slipped her an extra coin, her eyes going wide. “I’d like you to let me know straightaway when he arrives. I have other more… urgent… news.”

She stared at the coin for a moment, hunger for it gleaming in her eyes.

Holmes might be a decadent flirt, but apparently his generosity didn’t extend to his purse strings. I hoped the anger writhing up inside me didn’t show on my face. Her gaze slid behind me before she snatched the coin and stuck it in her bosom. She handed me a key with a brass tag that had the number 4 on it.

“I’ll show you to your room now, Miss…”

“Wadsworth,” I said, giving her a warm smile. “And you are?”

“Miss Agatha James.”

Apparently her hospitality was being tested. Her response was clipped, as if each word cost her. She motioned for me to follow her to the end of the counter of tonics and other apothecary items lining the shelves and walls. In the far corner of the store, a door opened onto a narrow staircase. My heart beat furiously, but I wouldn’t let fear stop me from what I’d set out to do. No matter if I was planning to murder a man who’d evaded police and had slain a countless

number of women already.

“Will this be your first evening staying at the Castle?”

“Castle?” I asked, thoughts flashing back to the imposing fortress of Vlad the Impaler in Romania and the corridors that seemed to crave blood. A shiver started at the base of my neck, dancing down to my toes. In Thomas’s fever dream he’d spoken of Bran Castle. “I thought you said it was named the World’s Fair Hotel.”

“It is.”

She smiled demurely as she motioned for us to continue up the stairs. It was a dreadful little corridor. The walls were covered in a deep charcoal wallpaper, and I could have sworn they were closing in ever so slightly the farther up we went. I had the off-kilter sensation of being stuck in a carnival fun house. That impression grew when I noticed skulls carefully drawn into the design of the wallpaper. A peculiar choice for a hotel.

“Locals call it the Castle, though. It’s so large, with over one hundred rooms