Capturing the Devil (Stalking Jack the Ripper #4)(116)
I had heard my brother speak of such wrong notions, and I knew how that hatred had started in him. After our mother died from scarlet fever, Nathaniel became obsessed with how disease spread. It was a fear my father had passed
along to each of us, though I rallied against it by using science to refute his claims. Nathaniel’s solution had morphed from good intentions to a gnarled, ugly beast. He’d used that same fear to experiment, hoping to rid the world of death. He preyed on those he deemed to be the cause, and I would never condone what he’d done.
“I did understand him, though,” Holmes continued. “I recognized a part of myself in him. I knew what it was like, trying to fight against the darker urges.
Watching him, the seed of an idea was planted. You see, I couldn’t find a good reason to prevent that thought from flourishing. Not that I tried too hard to stop it.”
He smiled, I assumed from recalling the imagery. If my hands weren’t otherwise occupied, I’d have curled them into fists. I wanted nothing more than to shred that smirk from his face. I all but forgot my purpose as I let the rage over my brother’s unfortunate encounter with this demon’s spawn consume me.
As if sensing my fury, he continued his twisted tale. “It didn’t take much grooming on my part to make him my creature. He was only too willing to follow me, playing spy while I let my blade sing. Well, now, not my blade, exactly. Your brother always lent me his when the time came. He wanted to belong. I gave him that comfort.”
Bile seared up my throat. “Did he… did he watch the murders?”
He moved ever so slightly toward the vault, leaning against the wall. My breath caught. I had to move straightaway, but I couldn’t seem to. The desire to understand my brother’s role in this treachery warred with locking this villain in his own chambers. My hesitation cost me. Holmes stepped to the side, now closing in on where I stood near the incinerator room. My strategy was coming undone at the seams, all because of my cursed curiosity.
“Turns out, he didn’t much have the stomach for murder. He had no such issue with accepting their organs for his science, though. Does that ease your mind, knowing his brand of devilry has limits?”
“Of course it doesn’t.” I shook my head. “Instead of turning you over to Scotland Yard, he accepted gifts in the form of kidneys and ovaries and hearts.
Had you not burned his journals, I’d have given them to the detective inspectors when I returned to London. You need to pay for what you’ve stolen. And so does my brother, deceased or not. He hated the women you killed. I saw that hatred in his heart and in the way he spoke of them the night he died. He was not innocent.”
At that, a slow, malicious smile spread across his face. He held up a blade, a
silver gleam in the flickering darkness, matching the glint in his eyes. It was as if I was standing in my laboratory watching Nathaniel do the same maneuver. The blade had been hidden up his sleeve, just as Thomas had deduced all those months ago. I was so caught by surprise at the clashing of memories, I could scarcely breathe. Nightmares and reality came together until I wanted to drop my knife and cane and cover my ears.
“Do you know what the most dangerous weapon is, Miss Wadsworth?”
Somehow, he must not have noticed the panic swirling about inside me.
Through some miracle I’d kept my expression blank. My association with Thomas had proved most beneficial. Something he’d joked about a long while ago. I swallowed hard, never removing my attention from Holmes. I did not focus on the knife, recalling my time with the carnival. Sleight of hand was a dirty trick. It always made you look at the wrong target.
“I suppose a pistol or a sword.” I lifted a shoulder. “It depends on the circumstances.”
“Is that what you truly believe? That some tangible object is what’s to be feared most?” He exhaled, the sound laced with disappointment. “What of the human mind? That’s the most dangerous weapon. How many wars would be waged, swords drawn, cannons readied and fired, without that one weapon being deployed first?”
He watched me with the eyes of a shark, emotionless yet predatory. I couldn’t help but feel as if I was wading in waters much too rough to survive. I refused to be afraid as I stepped into the incinerator room.
Heat licked at my calves. Our time together was coming to an end. Only one of us would leave this murder castle alive. I pictured Thomas standing at the altar. Uncle instructing us in his laboratory. My father’s glistening eyes as he set me free. My aunt and cousin and Daciana and Ileana—the two other sisters I’d come to love as if they were my own blood. Mrs. Harvey and her traveling tonics and warmth. I had much to fight for, aside from avenging the women he’d brutalized. I would not be an easy target.
“A mind is a powerful weapon, but it doesn’t have to be used wickedly,” I said. “That’s a choice.”
He roughly parted the sea of skeletons before him, no longer patient with our game. He strode toward me, leaving them chattering loudly in warning. They needn’t have bothered. I knew the monster was about to emerge. Running was no longer an option. It was time to fight.
“We are all wicked. More than mortal flesh and blood, our very souls harbor
evil. It knows no beginning or ending.”
He paused on the threshold of the room and I silently prayed he’d take one final step inside. All I needed was to complete our dance. One last circle around until I could lock him in here with his latest victim. Anticipation coursed through me.