Ripper. Part 24

I felt such mixed emotions. On one hand, I felt affection for him, relief that he desired our friendship as it had been before. But also, strangely, I felt irritation, anger even. I wished that he might give away some hint of his true feelings.

I could not dwell on this. We had more pressing matters to discuss.

"You know how she died?" I asked.

"Sleepwalking, I was told."

We had come to a giant mausoleum in an area of the cemetery referred to as Egyptian Avenue. We stepped inside the mausoleum for shelter from the pouring rain. The dark entryway was cold, damp, black. I shook off my umbrella, and Simon leaned gracefully against the stone wall near a tomb. I noticed, a bit painfully, that Simon kept a greater physical distance from me than he had in the past.

"It's not true, is it?" he added softly.

I shook my head. The tears poured out this time. As my guilt over Mariah's death returned, my emotions unloosed. I could hardly look at Simon now, fearful for him. He was caught up in all this because of me.

He moved forward, then stepped quickly back. I think he had meant to embrace me but decided against it.

Taking a deep breath, I told him every detail of what occurred in the attic-and that Max was the Ripper.

Simon said nothing; he simply watched me as I spoke. His face glowed in the darkness, resembling one of the marble angels on the Highgate tombs.

The rain continued in torrents, just outside of our shelter.

"And that is not all, Simon ... " I paused, wondering what he suspected.

"What else is it, Abbie?"

I stared up at him, unable to speak for a moment. I couldn't bear thinking of him dead.

Then I told him all that Max had told me last night about the Conclave's history, and that they wanted me to join them, and why. Simon kept his composure even when I told him about Max knowing of William's trip and the existence of the papers.

I was breathless by the time I finished.

"They want me, Simon, as an immortal member of the Conclave. I don't really have a choice."

I almost told him about my impending meeting with Dr. Brown, but then stopped myself. Simon would forbid me from going.

Don't do anything stupid, Max had said.

Feeling the full burden of what was before me, I chuckled, a little wildly, tears still on my face.

"Do you have any idea of when the official invitation might come?" Simon asked.

"I have no idea," I lied. "I think we have some time. After the yearly ritual, the Conclave takes some time to rest. Have you heard anything from William?" I added quickly.

He shook his head.

Max would have to leave William alive at least long enough for him to return with the papers-so that he could destroy them. Those papers were the only evidence of the Conclave's existence. But I still worried for William. I had seen what Max was capable of.

"Are you still at the hospital frequently?" I asked Simon.

"Yes. But Dr. Bartlett and Dr. Buck have only been there sporadically of late. Of course, now we know why." He sighed and sank deep in thought.

It was three o'clock. I had only two hours until my meeting. I had to find a way to get away from Simon.

"I think I need to be alone for a few minutes," I said.

He looked at me, and I feared he would not leave me.

"I'll catch up with Grandmother. I promise."

"Abbie."

"Please."

He stared at me a moment in the tombs' shadows, indecisive. Then he quietly left.

Silence.

After Simon left, I watched the rain pour around me with such force that it would be nearly impossible to walk out into it now. I thought of the dead bones in the coffins all around me. They all had oblivion; they all had peace. Mariah was among them now.

I needed to think. Two more hours. I doubted Dr. Brown would kill me in broad daylight in the Heath. And he certainly wouldn't offer me the elixir today. It was my understanding that there would be some sort of ceremony.

Exhausted, frustrated, I collapsed against one of the tombs and then sat on the damp floor. I stared ahead, hypnotized by the pelting rain. The time pa.s.sed and the temperature dropped, but I felt numb to it all.

I thought I imagined it. I thought I heard William speak my name from far away.

"Abbie."

I had barely heard it, above the roar of the rain, and I froze, unable to move. Unbelieving.

"Abbie."

I heard the voice again, and I stood. I whipped around to face the entrance of the mausoleum. I had desired him so strongly in his absence that when I saw him, I feared it was a vision.

But he wasn't a vision. He stood before me in flesh and blood, dripping wet.

"You are back," I said. I swallowed, still unbelieving.

"I am."

Now, faced with the possibility of death for him and for me, I knew exactly what I wanted. Before I could think on it further, I ran to him and kissed him. In that moment, I felt alive, trembling more than I ever had in my life. I felt dizzied, particularly when William returned the kiss with a vigor that equaled, or possibly surpa.s.sed, my own. We fell back against the iron grating of a crypt. My face wet from his, I felt frighteningly unbridled.

The time was pa.s.sing quickly before my meeting.

Summoning all of my strength, I pushed him away from me.

I told him everything I had just told Simon. As I spoke, I saw a bag at his feet. In my earlier frenzy, I hadn't even noticed it. "Your uncle's papers! Are the papers in there? Tell me, quickly, have you read them? Do they tell us anything that I have not already told you?"

"Yes, I've read most of them. They reveal just a few more details. During the time Polidori worked as Lord Byron's physician in the Alps, he became acquainted with the Conclave-their British neighbors also staying in the Alps at that time. He became suspicious that the group might be something more than the eccentric scholars they put themselves forth to be, and one night he searched through Dr. Buck's lab, finding his private notes. He found out the Conclave's secret-that they had discovered the philosopher's stone and had created the elixir of life, and that they killed to protect themselves. Knowing that he himself would probably be killed, Polidori wrote down everything he knew and sent it to Avignon, where our family solicitor put it unopened into a safe. Max killed Polidori without having any knowledge of the papers. That was a colossal mistake for Max."

"So how did you learn of their existence?"

"Christina. No one had opened the papers until my father happened to clean out the safe about the time he met your mother. He read through them, and consequently often sought out Dr. Bartlett's lectures-to see him, to see the other members of the Conclave. He brought along other artists, including your mother, to these lectures; she like the other artists would have been ignorant of my father's investigative motives. He told no one about his discovery until closely before his death, when he wrote down his own notes and added them to Polidori's. He had the papers sealed again and sent back to Avignon. On his deathbed, he told Christina about it-about the Conclave. She, only half-believing him since his mind was so riddled by drugs, never brought it up, even when I began working directly with Bartlett and Buck in Whitechapel. But when the murders occurred, she became suspicious, worried for me. I didn't believe it; it didn't seem possible. But finally, I agreed to go retrieve the papers."

"And your father never did anything to stop them?"

"He was an artist-he had no idea how to stop a group of politically sanctioned immortals."

"Politically sanctioned?"

"Dr. Buck was an alchemist for Queen Elizabeth when he discovered the philosopher's stone through his experiments, created the elixir, and told the queen of its existence. She sanctioned Dr. Buck, along with three others, to form the Conclave, a group consisting of a scholar, a theologian, a scientist, and a physician. She made them swear an oath to her to keep the elixir secret and to use their immortality for the public good of England. The downside of this is that the Conclave kills to protect themselves from those who become too suspicious of their ident.i.ty. Or, as in these Ripper murders, they are willing to kill for the public good. Their discoveries in science-vaccines and medicines, for example-have saved many lives, but at a cost. They are great humanitarians, but in order to continue as they have, they lost respect for individual lives. The betterment of the ma.s.ses always trumps those of the individual."

"Max-they took him into their group years later, as their protector and a.s.sa.s.sin."

As I spoke, the rain abated, I knew the time was pressing near when I would have to leave William. I needed at least a half an hour to get to the ponds.

"Yes. Rossetti's notes don't reveal much about Max. The Conclave took him on in the early nineteenth-century, probably for his psychic abilities. For some reason, when he took the elixir, he was sort of an aberration; he could do and see things the others couldn't. And Rossetti's notes explain something else-why your mother suddenly eloped with Jacque Sharp. My father sent your mother away probably to protect her, and ... "

William paused.

"What is it?"

"My father is your father. He probably also wanted to protect you. Your mother's elopement with her friend Sharp was last-minute. Sharp would have known you weren't his own."

This didn't come as a surprise; actually, it was more of a confirmation of what I had already suspected, and I felt an odd numbness. I should have been excited to know my parentage, but I wasn't. Even if Gabriel Rossetti sent my mother and me away to distance us from the Conclave, he still abandoned us.

"Abbie? What are you thinking?"

I shrugged. "Nothing. That it doesn't really matter even if he is my father. And ... " The meeting loomed before me, and, with what was to come, this might be my only opportunity to make my confession.

"And what, Abbie?"

"That I love you." I kissed him again, warming. A distant church bell tolled the four-thirty hour and I knew I had to leave.

With the break in the rain, I heard a footstep on the stone floor. I gasped, pulling myself away from William as I saw Simon, standing there in the mausoleum.

"William, how nice, you have returned." His tone was bitter, acidic.

William said nothing, and I moved away from him. Awkwardness and anger hung in the air.

"And how extraordinarily responsible. You left this bag of papers near the doorway. Decades-old, sought-after by an immortal a.s.sa.s.sin, and you leave them here, to um ... entertain Miss Sharp."

I eased backward, toward the entrance. William would not be able to hold his temper long in the face of this.

It was my chance to flee and make my meeting. I heard William shout at Simon as I slipped through the bushes, darting away from Egyptian Avenue and out of the cemetery in the direction of Hampstead Heath. I didn't hear them shouting my name, but even if they saw that I was gone, Highgate Cemetery was a difficult place in which to see very far. It would be almost impossible for them to follow me.

Once out in Hampstead Heath, I found the park virtually empty. The rain had subsided momentarily into a dewy mist, some of it settling into a fog that blanketed the mirror-still ponds. A man tossed a ball for his dog; a very small group of children, bundled for the chilly weather, played nearby with their nanny.

At exactly five o'clock, just as I walked away from one of the ponds near a small copse of trees, I heard my name spoken. Dr. Bartlett and Dr. Brown were suddenly beside me.

"Miss Sharp," Professor Brown said, in his most pleasant tone.

It was an odd little rendezvous. They looked well, quite well. It must have been the elixir. To any pa.s.sersby, they might have been my uncles, accompanying me on a stroll.

I watched the dog fetch the ball from across the largest pond.

"Go ahead," I said, pulling my coat tighter and facing both of them.

"Dr. Bartlett wanted to be here with me," Dr. Brown said, cheerfully.

"I am fond of you, Abbie," Dr. Bartlett said. "And I am very impressed by your work at the hospital. Imagine lifetimes of doing all that we do there. Think of how much you might learn. Accomplish."

I saw an odd yearning in his expression. Both Dr. Brown and Dr. Bartlett were greedy for me, and ever since my talk with Max, I knew the real reason they wanted me-for my gift. I wondered if they expected me to aide Max in his dark deeds.

"So, what is it?" I asked. "This philosopher's stone. Please explain." I needed to know the details, and, admittedly, I was curious.

Dr. Bartlett continued. "Robert Buck, after many, many years of trying, finally created the formula for the philosopher's stone, necessary for the elixir. It was an extraordinary discovery. He tested it on animals first, and then consumed it himself. Through his tests, he learned that drinking the elixir once does not make one permanently immortal; rather, it must be consumed once a year to maintain the effect. Hence, our ritual."

"And then you never die ... " I said, feeling a twinge of yearning even against my will.

Dr. Bartlett cleared his throat. "You can die-the elixir doesn't prevent that. We can die by accident, through physical trauma. But we do not age, or become ill. The elixir keeps us from dying of natural causes."

"I see."

The wind picked up; the tree leaves rattled hard above us.

Dr. Brown spoke next. "We're here to ask you to join the Conclave. As you observed last night, we have already conducted this year's elixir ritual; Max guards the house during the ceremony, and his ritual occurs later. We plan to offer you the elixir tonight, and then after that you may take it yearly with the four of us."

"And if I choose not to?"

They were both silent. But I knew. There was no real choice.

I felt seduced by the idea, drawn to being immortal. But they were murderers. I had seen them kill, brutally. I lost my friend to them.

No Abbie. You can't be in league with them. Leave them. Now.

"No. I do not accept."

I turned before I could see their expressions, walking fast past the ponds across the gra.s.sy park. The wet wind beat at me hard and I clutched my coat closer. Thunder roared in the distance as a storm blew in. I increased my walk to a furious pace.

Now I had to warn William and Simon. And we had to come up with a plan, because we were as good as dead.

Twenty-four.