Ripper. Part 25

I.

had only walked about a mile out of the Heath when someone from behind grabbed my wrist, hard.

"What were you thinking?" William demanded. His face was furious as he spun me around. "Where were you? We've been looking all over for you! Why would you leave us when you know that they're after you?"

I shook William off me. "I had a meeting with them in the park. I knew you would never let me go alone, so I went by myself to meet them. I said no. I refused their offer, William. I hope you know what this means for us."

I saw Simon standing behind him. If they had quarreled, Simon was now perfectly composed.

"So what do we do?" William asked. "Max could show up any time."

"I don't know. I don't know."

Grandmother. She would be back in our house tonight. Although I often went out during the day, to go to the library or on walks, if I didn't come home tonight she would certainly call the police. I also thought of Max. Who knew how many people he might kill to get to me?

"We can't flee," I told William. "Apart from Max finding us, we have to stop them. So that no one else dies. And we should warn Christina. Max knows now that she knows of the papers."

"Abbie's right," Simon said.

Max could be trailing us right now. But at least we were alert; I felt as if Christina and Perdita were sitting ducks in their house. Max could already be there.

"And Christina's friends," I said.

"Fortunately, all of them are living on their own now. So this is a rare occasion where it's just Christina, Perdita, and me," William said quickly.

Evening was setting in. The rain had stopped, but the wind and rumble of thunder had picked up. Christina's house was only a few miles away, but time was of the essence. Immediately, we caught a carriage. We were only a few blocks away when the traffic became heavy.

William, agitated, began cursing, swearing. "Let's get out and run for it!"

Then the vision hit me, and I saw a shadowed pa.s.sageway. The flounce of a mint-green dress.

Mary! I realized in horror. Max was following her.

No. No. No.

"Mary! He's after Mary!" I yelled. "Stop the carriage."

"A vision?" Simon asked.

"Yes, yes. He's behind her. Following her now. He's going to kill her."

I jumped out of the carriage. There was no time to explain. I began running hard and fast toward the East End, hoping that Simon and William would follow me, be able to keep up with me.

I heard William shouting my name from far behind me. "Abbie!"

When the vision came again, I saw a door-Mary's front door.

As the vision broke into my consciousness again, I could see that Mary still had no idea Max was behind her. She was singing, and then humming a tune. The words to her song came out in her thick Irish accent, which I knew she always took great pains to cover on a daily basis. Lost in her song, she had no idea he was behind her.

He is behind you. He is behind you.

I ran faster, until my chest felt as if it would explode.

I'm coming, Mary. I'm coming.

I ran hard, only concerned with getting to her.

I heard a key in a lock. The key paused.

She knew. She knew now he was behind her.

I heard a m.u.f.fled scream. It was too late. He had pushed her into the room and slammed the door shut.

"No! " I yelled out loud.

I ran. I was almost there.

Just as I reached the Miller's Court alleyway, I heard the slam of a door, saw a shadow disappear with unbelievable speed into the dark.

I stood in front of her door.

"Mary." My voice croaked.

I opened the door. Everything in the small, single-room dwelling was dark except for a roaring fire in the fireplace.

Then I saw it-a mangled mess in the bed. The fire roared high in the small fireplace. In the flicker of the fire flames, I saw the black shine of blood.

No. No. I felt cold. I felt frozen. I could not even vomit as I did when I witnessed the murders of Cate and Liz.

Someone pushed me back into the wall. I vaguely wondered if it was Max.

"Abbie! Abbie!" William shook me. He was enraged, his face flushed. "What are you doing? What are you doing? You should have waited for us to catch up!"

He had not seen the bed yet.

"It's Mary. Mary Kelly. He killed her."

William followed my eyes to the bed. Simon was already there, holding a lamp across the bed. He said nothing.

"G.o.d dammit !" William exploded.

He turned back to me, his eyes wide.

I began to regain control of my senses. Swallowing hard, I said, "He's angry. Max is mad that I refused their invitation. He is trying to compel me to join, now, showing me what he's capable of."

As with Mariah, guilt nearly overcame me. Mary died because of me.

But I also felt hate.

William looked as if he was going to say something, then decided not to. Instead, he hugged me hard.

"William." Simon's voice broke through in the darkness. "Come here."

William walked over.

I followed him, standing at the foot of the bed and trying not to look at the body, which had been mutilated more than the others-beyond recognition.

"This is not Mary Kelly," Simon said. His white fingers teased some blood away from the scalp. He held the lamp closer to the body.

"The hair is black. Mary had lighter hair."

Liliana. I pushed past William and Simon, looking at the hair myself. The corpse was not Mary's. But the corpse wore the dress that I had lent Mary.

Mary was the intended victim, but Max had just murdered Liliana.

"Simon is right," I said. "This is Liliana, her friend. She must have borrowed Mary's dress." I felt a little guilty at the mighty relief that washed over me that the dead woman was not my friend.

Then my thoughts turned back to the still-living Mary.

"We have to find her. We have to find Mary. She must leave London, now. Everyone must be made to believe that this is her. If she is seen alive, she will be killed-Max is on a killing spree. Christina. Grandmother," I said, almost hysterically. "They could both be in danger. We need to act fast."

"I'll go find Mary and Scribby," William said quickly. "You and Simon go warn Christina."

"But Grandmother ... "

"I'll go to Kensington," Simon said immediately. I'll tell your grandmother that you're working with Christina at New Hospital tonight. That they were short-staffed. That way, she won't call Scotland Yard."

I knew Simon was such a favorite with Grandmother that he just might be able to convince her to be all right with that.

"Good, but Grandmother is still in danger ... "

"I'll speak to Richard," Simon said.

"What can Richard ... "

"You obviously don't know your butler well," Simon said cryptically. His mouth curved, very slightly.

"What?" I asked, perplexed, but he said nothing; his eyes shone a bit.

It was then, in the roaring firelight while we still stood over the corpse, that I saw William gazing at us. His normally flushed face paled with some sort of realization as he looked at Simon, and then at me. But he remained silent.

"So I'll go to Christina's," I said. "I'll warn her, and we can all meet up there."

"Absolutely not," William said. "You can't go alone."

"We have too! People's lives are at stake and we're wasting time."

Simon hesitated in the doorway, but he knew I was right. He nodded at me and left.

"No." William grabbed my arm, but I shook him off.

"Just go find Scribby and Mary. Hurry! I'll see you at Christina's shortly."

I sprinted away without another word.

I ran fast, and caught a carriage after a few blocks. As it sped away, I saw the moon rise high over the Thames, bright even amidst the rolling thunderclouds. Night had arrived, and I didn't know if I would see another morning.

Twenty-five.

C.

hristina! Christina!" I shouted as I burst through her front door.

All was silent except for Hugo's barking from far above me, up in William's bedroom where it seemed the dog must be shut in.

"Christina!"

No answer.

I walked through the dining room. A note for William awaited him. It was from Christina-she had gone to work at New Hospital that evening.

A sense of foreboding washed over me. Apart from Hugo's barks, something seemed eerie, too quiet, about the house. When I ran to the parlor, I found it empty too, excepting for the parrot Toby in his cage. A fire roared in the fireplace, illuminating Polidori's face.

Gazing up at the portrait, I considered William's handsome great uncle in a new light.

"You knew," I whispered. "You knew about all this."

A loud noise came from another part of the house, near Perdita's bedroom.

My heart pounded in my chest.

As I stood frozen, I tried to think rationally. It was probably Perdita; she could have made the noise. She was almost blind and had poor hearing; she might not have heard me shouting.

Nonetheless, I removed a poker from the fireplace as I crept out of the parlor, into the hallway toward her bedroom.

The bedroom door was slightly open.

Softly, so that I would not scare the old woman, I knocked.

"Perdita?" I whispered, tightening my hold on the poker but concealing it in the folds of my skirt so as not to frighten her.

The door creaked as I pushed it open. The room was small, with very few furnishings. A thin stream of light from a streetlamp broke through a crack in the drawn window curtains, illuminating the bed. A figure lay under the bedcovers. My stomach churned when I saw the pillow covering the face.