Capturing the Devil (Stalking Jack the Ripper #4)(65)

Daciana stood near the newel-post, clutching it tightly. Dark circles marred the skin under her eyes. She hadn’t been sleeping much since the wedding went to hell. “Ileana and I would like to help. We’re quite good at finding hidden clues. It’s…” I had the impression she was choosing her next words carefully, but I was buzzing with too much worry to reflect on it. “We’ve had practice with the Order. If you’d like, we’ll handle the journals and you can take the last murder case. It’ll help if we all split the work.”

Thomas considered this for the space of a breath. He nodded sharply, a slight gleam in his eyes. “Thank you, Daci. The journals are in Audrey Rose’s chambers. You’ll both need to hurry; there are… a lot.”

The Cresswell siblings held each other’s gazes for a minute, silently communicating. A moment later, Daciana grabbed her skirts and dashed up the stairs, calling to her love as she rounded into the corridor.

Thomas kissed my head and went in search of my uncle while I collected notes from both Martha Tabram’s murder and Miss Carrie Brown’s. Even though the police had arrested Frenchy Number One, I knew he was not the man responsible. This was our Ripper and he was only just starting his newest murder trail. I settled into a sitting room on the first floor with pages of notes scattered around me.

I tried not to look at the clock, but all I could hear was the wretched tick tick tick of the second hand counting off our remaining hours. Time was not our ally.

It seemed to rush more quickly than my pulse. At some point Thomas joined me in the sitting room, his own pile of notes in larger disarray than mine. Uncle had agreed to changing locations, as long as we provided a good argument for where.

The Ripper case haunted him, too, and he wished to end it.

Somehow, despite focusing all of my energy on our task and willing the clock to slow, there was only one hour remaining before Thomas needed to leave.

Every muscle in my body was taut, ready to snap. He sat back and heaved a sigh.

“I need to pack my trunks, Wadsworth. I can’t risk staying any longer, or else my father will undoubtedly be here and I’m sure he’ll have hired assistance with getting me to that boat. He won’t trust that I’ll get there on my own.”

He pushed himself into a standing position, defeat obvious in the lines around his mouth. Everything about this felt wrong. I stood, heart racing.

“Let’s run,” I said, a sob ripping through my words. Thomas froze for the space of one moment before he lifted me into his arms, holding me tightly to him. If Thomas and I eloped, it would help calm the scandal. As would the fact that we were in America and the rumors would be delayed. It wasn’t ideal, but it

could work. It had to. Then we could still pursue Jack the Ripper leads together.

“Are you certain we have enough time to pack?”

Thomas let me go and looked at the clock, his face grim. “Barely. Pack lightly. We’ll meet in twenty minutes. I’ll have the coachman ready a carriage now.”

He kissed my cheek and ran for the door. I didn’t linger. I made my way upstairs as fast as my leg would allow, pulse pounding in time with the seconds.

I shoved dresses and brushes and unmentionables into a trunk, relieved I’d left a decent portion tucked away already. I finished with a few minutes to spare and called down for a footman to retrieve my trunk. While I waited, I scribbled a note to Liza and then one to my father. I didn’t have time to say good-bye, nor did I want to involve them in our scheme.

I was already waiting for Thomas in the corridor downstairs when he grabbed our trunks, helping the footman move more quickly.

“Are you ready?” he asked. I nodded, too afraid to say anything more. I couldn’t believe we were running away. Wrong and right mingled together until I was no longer certain which emotion was the dominant one. He seemed to feel the same. He jerked his chin in an impression of a nod, then indicated the back exit. “Let’s hurry. We don’t want—”

“Wait!”

Daciana and Ileana raced down the stairs, nearly tripping in their haste to reach us.

“We’ve found it!” Daciana said, panting. “We know where he’s heading.”





TWENTY-EIGHT

SATAN’S COMPANIONS

GRANDMAMA’S MAIN PARLOR

FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY





8 FEBRUARY 1889


“Who?” Thomas asked, setting our trunks down. “Father? I believe even the Vatican knows where Father’s heading. He’s made it abundantly clear.”

“Jack the Ripper.” Ileana seemed slightly more reserved in her judgment.

“We’re almost certain,” she amended. “The clues seem to point to a certain city.

Here.”

She handed me one of Nathaniel’s journals, open to a page with yet another quote. I read it, immediately recognizing it as another passage from Frankenstein. My shoulders slumped as I read aloud.

“‘I beheld a stream of fire issue from an old and beautiful oak which stood about twenty yards from our house; and so soon as the dazzling light vanished, the oak had disappeared, and nothing remained but a blasted stump. When we visited it the next morning, we found the tree shattered in a singular manner. It was not splintered by the shock, but entirely reduced to thin ribbons of wood. I never beheld anything so utterly destroyed.’”