Ripper Read online

  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 surpassed, my own. We fell back against the iron grating of a crypt. My face wet from his, I felt frighteningly unbridled.

  The time was passing 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 identity. 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 masses always trumps those of the individual.”

  “Max—they took him into their group years later, as their protector and assassin.”

  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 assassin, 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 passersby, 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 sa
id, 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 grassy 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

  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 passageway. 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 muffled 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.

  “God 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.