by CJ Archer
"Lady Violet, is everything all right?" Mr. Gladstone asked. "You seem distracted."
"Just enjoying the walk. And please, let's not be so formal with one another. You may call me Violet." Hannah, part of me shouted inside. I so wished to hear my real name again.
"In that case, you may call me Samuel."
Up ahead, Jack turned another corner. He walked swiftly, his strides long and purposeful. He didn't look back, and since it was becoming darker, we didn't need to hide. London's ever-present fog had already begun to settle in the dim depths of the alleys, and it wasn't yet four o'clock.
"Now, Samuel, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?"
"May we slow down?"
"No."
"Right." He cleared this throat. "Ever since you left Dr. Werner's rooms this morning, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. I mean, your situation."
"Oh?" Jack turned another corner and I sped up. I didn't want to lose him when we'd gotten this far.
"I think there may be another possibility to explain the blocking of your memories."
"Something other than a traumatic event? That is a relief." Indeed it was. I'd felt unnerved at the thought ever since he'd suggested it.
"Yes, but..." He sighed. "There's no easy way to tell you this. Someone may have deliberately tampered with your mind."
I stumbled, but with our arms linked, he was able to steady me. I stared up at him, my heart in my throat, beating like a drum. "You'd better tell me what you mean."
"We'll lose him if we don't keep walking," he said.
"Pardon?"
He nodded in the direction of Jack. "Mr. Langley. We are following him, aren't we?"
I pressed a hand to my head. "Yes," I murmured. "But this is...important."
"Then I'll tell you as we go. Come on."
I allowed him to lead me a few paces until I regained my wits. "Samuel, tell me, please. What do you mean someone has tampered with my mind? Do you mean they've blocked off my memories on purpose?"
"May have blocked them. It's simply another possibility. One I didn't want to mention in front of Dr. Werner."
"Why not?"
"Because he doesn't believe in it."
"Believe in what? Samuel, you're not making sense."
He huffed out a breath. "This is complicated, but I'll try to explain it. I've been able to hypnotize people ever since I can remember. Medical professionals like Dr. Werner have had to learn to do it, but I've always had the ability."
"Really? Have you been hypnotizing unsuspecting people since you were a child?"
He gave me a crooked smile. "Yes, much to my parents' dismay, until..." He cleared his throat. "Never mind. Suffice it to say, I learned not to use hypnosis unless the subject agreed. I decided the best way to use my ability was to become a neurologist and hypnotize patients in a professional capacity."
"When did you discover that memories could be blocked? Is that something you can do?"
"Do you always ask so many questions?"
"Yes. The Langleys find it irritating too."
He chuckled. "Come on, walk faster. He's going into that alley."
Jack had indeed entered a narrow street through an archway. We paused at its entrance, then when we saw him walking up ahead, we continued on. The houses changed. They were smaller and squashed together like cold, ragged children. Their windows and stoops, however, were clean and those people still outside appeared to have somewhere to go, although there was hollow resignation on their faces.
I drew closer to Samuel. "Are you all right, Violet? Do you want to turn back?"
"No. I expected we would be entering one of the worst areas of London."
"This isn't the worst," he said quietly. "Not by far." If he were afraid, he didn't show it. He did seem particularly alert, scanning to left and right as we walked.
"Go on, Samuel. Tell me about purposefully blocking memories using hypnosis."
"I stumbled upon the process in my teens. I was, uh, experimenting with my abilities, and unfortunately instead of hypnotizing someone and making him think he was a woman, I blocked his memory of the entire day."
"You tried to make a man think he was a woman?" I giggled. "You can do that?"
"There are many things a hypnotist can do while a subject is in a hypnotized state. That was one of my favorites when I was about fifteen."
"How wicked of you."
"I can assure you, my wickedness is in the past. These days I mostly cure ladies of melancholy or hysteria," he said with a sigh. "You are a welcome change."
The street narrowed again and the air grew dank, dark. Very little light filtered through the fog from the setting sun. There were few gas lamps, and even fewer of them were lit. Those that were lit glowed in the miasma like disembodied orbs.
"So what happened after you tried to hypnotize that man into thinking he was a woman?"
"When the subject awoke from his hypnosis, something very odd happened. He became a narcoleptic."
"What!"
"Shhh."
Up ahead, Jack stopped. Samuel pulled me into a recessed doorway as Jack turned. My face pressed into Samuel's chest. I could feel his chin above my head, his heart thumping against my ear despite the layers of clothing. It beat in time to the rhythm of my blood.
He peered round the edge of the brickwork. "He's walking again."
We followed. "Did your subject fall asleep at particular moments, or did the narcoleptic episodes occur with no pattern whatsoever?"
"He fell asleep at...moments of great...excitement."
"How interesting. Does he still suffer from the episodes?"
"No."
"Did you cure him?"
"I tried but couldn't. He was cured in another way."
"How?"
A few heartbeats passed before he answered. "It's not something I can discuss with a lady."
"Samuel, you have to tell me. Whatever it is, I can assure you I won't be shocked."
He cleared his throat. "Very well. Yes, it took another event of great excitement to cure him. Excitement of a...male nature."
"You mean when he was aroused by a woman?"
He made a strangled sound that I took as embarrassed affirmation.
"I do believe you're blushing, Samuel." As was I, rather fiercely. Despite my attempt to sound worldly, I was very far from it. I knew in theory what happened between a man and a woman when they grew aroused, thanks to a book our biology tutor smuggled in one day while Miss Levine wasn't looking, but my practical knowledge was nil.
"Well," he said. "So. In conclusion, whatever produces narcolepsy within you, is the very thing that will cure you of it, albeit in a larger dose. My subject fell asleep when he was aroused, but it was the same emotion that ended his narcolepsy once and for all."
"A larger dose?"
"My subject was cured by excessive, ah, stimulation. There happened to be two women with him at the time."
"Two! Is that even possible?"
Poor Samuel ran his finger inside his collar and stretched his neck. "Please don't ask any more questions. There are some things a lady shouldn't hear."
What about a lady's companion?
"You need to expose yourself to whatever emotion it is that sets off your narcolepsy," he said. "Do you know what it is?"
"Fear, I think."
"Good. All you need now is to experience heightened terror, and you may be cured."
"That's something to look forward to," I said dryly.
"Who do you think did this to you? You must know someone capable of hypnosis. Someone with the natural talent for it like me, not learned as in Dr. Werner's case. Do you know who that might be?"
"No. Nor do I know why they would do this to me."
"Tell me about the Langleys. Perhaps it was one of them."
"It wasn't. I've only known them a few days, and I've been a narcoleptic all my life."
"Indeed? What about your family?"
"I'm not in contact with them at the moment. When
I see them again I'll ask."
"A good idea."
"You say Dr. Werner doesn't believe in this kind of blockage, as put there by a hypnotist. That means you must have discussed it with him at some point."
"I have, but he tried to replicate it and it didn't work. When I suggested that only natural hypnotists could do it, he scoffed and said there were no such people."
"How odd."
"Very. I don't know of others, you see, and have heard of none. You don't know what it's like to be the only one who suffers from something."
How wrong he was.
"You're the first person I've mentioned my ability to," he said. "I have to say, it's such a relief that you're not laughing at me, or have run screaming in the other direction."
"I wouldn't do that. I may need you if I fall asleep out here."
We hurried after Jack, getting further and further into the depths of London's web of alleys. "I'm beginning to think we ought to turn back," Samuel said. "This part of London isn't safe, particularly after dark."
We had indeed walked into an even grimier part of the city. The cobbled streets were covered in some sort of slippery sludge. I had to hold onto Samuel's arm or I'd slip over. A sickly smell mingled with the fog that hung in the air. Dirty children's faces peered out of windows at us, their eyes sunken, their hair matted. Men and women sat or lay on the filthy ground, their hands buried in their too-thin clothes, their feet and heads bare, despite winter being in the air. One or two clutched my hem as I passed, begging for food, and Samuel quickly obliged with a few coins until he had no more to give.
I clung to his arm and slowed. "You're right. We should go back."
Just as I said it, Jack stopped to talk to a boy shivering in a recessed doorway. He nodded, and the lad disappeared inside, only to return a moment later with a tall man. A man with a big, crooked nose and a scar over one eye. He clamped Jack on the shoulder and Jack nodded a greeting. The thin lad scampered back inside and shut the door.
I looked around for closer hiding places and spotted an arched bridge nearby. If we stood beneath it, we would be able to hear their conversation. "Keep your head down and stay close to the walls where it's darker," I said to Samuel.
"What if he sees us?"
"He won't harm us, if that's your concern. I am quite sure of that."
"He won't harm you. I doubt any feelings of mercy will extend to me."
"Are you afraid of him?"
"No, I just don't want to have to fight him. I put those days behind me when I started at University College."
"You were a fighter?"
"I got into scrapes regularly and found the need to defend myself." He put a hand to his hat to shield his face. It didn't matter because Jack was too intent on his conversation to notice us. We tucked ourselves into the shadows of the archway and strained to hear.
"I confess," said Jack's companion. "It were me that done it. You goin' to drag me off to the rozzers then?" He sounded amused, cock-sure.
"I should. Or better yet, I'll take you home with me. August Langley will have a fitting punishment in mind."
"Stop speakin' like a toff." The man, Patrick I assumed, wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "You ain't one of 'em. Never will be. Think you're all 'igh and mighty livin' in the big 'ouse while we starve down 'ere in this rat-pit." He hawked and spat on the ground at Jack's feet.
Jack didn't move, but his shoulders stiffened slightly, and his hands closed into fists at his sides. "What did you take from his rooms?"
"I dunno, do I. Just some papers. I was told where to find 'em and find 'em I did."
"Papers about what?"
"That some kind of joke? You know I can't read."
Jack tipped his head back, sighed. "Who are you working for?"
"I can't tell you that now, Jack-o'-Lantern. Ain't none o' your business no more."
"It is my business. I live there."
Patrick snorted a harsh laugh. "And what right 'ave you got to live there? Eh? You fink that man's yer uncle? Because I ain't so sure you're any more a Langley than me."
Jack shoved Patrick in the chest, slamming him back against the door with such force that I heard a crack of wood. Beside me, Samuel bristled and his hand took mine, reassuring me that he would not let anything happen to me. I appreciated the gesture, although I wasn't scared. Jack's anger was directed at Patrick and the man looked terrified. He held up his hands in surrender.
"S-sorry, Jack, I meant no 'arm."
"Who you been sayin' that to?" Jack's voice was a low growl, just audible through the invading fog. "You don't know me no more," he went on. "Got that, Patrick? Now, tell me 'oo paid you to take them papers from Langley."
Patrick shook his head. "Can't say."
Jack slammed him back against the door again. The window nearby opened and the young boy's head popped out. "What's that racket?" When Jack glared at him, the lad ducked back inside and slammed the window shut.
"Tell me, Patrick," Jack snarled. "I ain't got time for this."
"I can't! Said 'e'd kill me if I told, 'e did."
"I'll bloody kill you if you don't." Two sparks flared in the darkness and one landed on Patrick's jacket. He yelped and patted it, and it quickly fizzled out.
"What was that?" Samuel whispered. "Did those sparks came from Jack's hands? Is he holding some sort of ignition device?"
"Whoa," said Patrick, breathing hard. "Careful, Jack-o'-lantern. It's just business. It ain't personal."
"It is to me." Jack's voice was once more cultured, gentlemanly, but it was no less threatening. "They hang thieves."
"You wouldn't turn me in." Patrick's voice trembled. "We was friends once, don't that mean somethin' now?"
"Not if you cross me. Tell me who you work for, and I'll leave you alone. If you don't..." He patted the burned patch on Patrick's jacket. "I may not be able to control my temper next time."
Patrick's swallow could be heard clear across the street. "Don't tell 'im I told you."
"I won't."
"I don't know 'is name."
Jack's hands glowed but no sparks shot from them. "You must know something. Where can I find him? What does he look like?"
"I met 'im down at The Boar. Spoke like a toff, 'e did, and 'ad white 'air and only one arm."
"One arm?"
"Aye. And a shiny, pale face."
Jack nodded. "Anything else?"
"Nope. You goin' to the rozzers?"
"Not unless you do it again. Tommy begged me to keep your name to myself, for old time's sake."
Patrick grinned. "Them old times were a laugh, weren't they, Jack-o'-lantern? When you used to set stuff on fire—"
"Don't," Jack bit off. "Don't tell a soul about those days. Understand? My charity extends only so far."
Patrick nodded quickly. "Speakin' o' charity..." He jerked his head at the window where the lad had peeked out. "Winter's almost 'ere, and there's more comin' every day than I know what to do wiv."
"I'll send money and warm clothes as soon as I can. You only had to send word, Patrick. No need to take to thieving again."
"Once a thief, always a thief, eh, Jack-o'-lantern? We can't change 'oo we are deep down."
Jack stared at the window. "Don't lead any of those children along that path. And don't steal from Langley again."
He strode toward us, and Samuel and I ducked further into the shadows as he passed. When I looked up again, Patrick had gone inside. The street was cold and quiet, the darkness almost complete except for the single lamp fading in and out near Patrick's door.
"Let's go," Samuel said. "Walk fast and don't make eye contact with anyone. We might just get out of here without being accosted."
I allowed him to lead me away as I considered what I'd just learned. One thing I was sure about now—Jack hadn't been involved in the theft of the papers from Langley. But I was even more certain that he was trying to deceive his so-called uncle by pretending to be his heir. As Patrick had said, Jack wasn't a Lang
ley.
Someone reached out of the shadows and jerked me to a stop. I screamed and a hand clamped over my mouth. It stank, and I gagged into the palm. The other hand held a blade to my throat. It's cool metal bit into my skin but didn't cut.
Samuel stopped too. "Let her go," he said. His voice was steady, commanding. If he were afraid, he didn't show it. I, on the other hand, quivered like jelly.
"Give me yer money, sir, and she won't come to no 'arm."
"I haven't got any," Samuel said. "I gave it all away."
Brittle laughter filled my ear. Foul breath made me gag. I tried to shove the man off, but his grip tightened. Oh God, Oh God, Oh God.
"Then I want yer coat," he said.
Samuel removed his coat, and the attacker let go of my mouth to take it. But instead of handing it over, Samuel threw it. The man caught it, but he lowered the knife in that brief moment of confusion, and I ducked out of the way. Samuel stepped up and punched him in the nose. Blood sprayed over the coat and cobbles, but thankfully not on me.
Samuel grabbed my hand. We ran until we were out of the slum and back on the main street. We paused for breath within the circle of light cast by a lamp. I put a hand to my chest and sucked in air.
Samuel gripped my shoulders and searched my face. "Are you all right, Violet? Are you hurt?"
"No, I'm fine. Thank you, Samuel. You saved me."
His fingers kneaded my shoulders, but I got the feeling it was as much to reassure himself that I was unharmed than to comfort me. "I'm glad I was able to help."
I felt sick to my stomach. It was my fault entirely. He'd only agreed to accompany me because I'd insisted. What had I been thinking? "I'm so sorry, Samuel. I didn't know it would be like that. Those people...they're so...desperate."
"Starvation does that."
"I should have known. I've read the stories of Mr. Dickens."
He laughed and patted my hand. "Then you are indeed a woman of the world."
We walked off in what I assumed was the direction of Claridges, but in truth I couldn't be certain. The fog had become so thick it shrouded the entire street and I could see no landmarks, let alone recognize them. The clip clop of hooves and the rattle of wheels on the road signaled that a vehicle had gone past, but it could have been a spectral carriage for all I knew. It was nowhere to be seen. Behind us, footsteps echoed. I turned, but could see no one. The footsteps continued.
Had Jack doubled back and now followed us? Or had someone been following the entire time and I'd been too distracted to notice?
"I've just had a thought," Samuel said, apparently oblivious to the footsteps.
"Oh?" I looked back over my shoulder, but the tap tap of shoes on the pavement had ceased. "What about?" If it were about Jack, I already had a response in mind. I might not know everything about him, but I didn't want to divulge his fire-starting secret to Samuel. Not yet.
"Do you recall how you said your narcolepsy may be caused by fear?"
"Yes."
"I don't think it is, or you would have suffered an episode just now. You were terrified, weren't you?"
"More than I've ever been in my life." It was quite true, I realized. I'd not even been that afraid when I woke up in the carriage after Jack abducted me.
"Yet you didn't fall asleep."
"Good lord. You're right!"
"That means it has another trigger."
"Yes," I muttered. "Yes it does."
We reached the front door of Claridges, and a footman opened it for me. Before I had a chance to thank Samuel for his help and say goodbye, Sylvia barreled up and threw her arms around my neck.
"Thank goodness you're back," she said on a small sob. "I've been so worried."
"I sent word that I was going for a walk," I said.
She held me at arm's length. "Yes, but I knew you didn't know your way around London, and I've heard such dreadful things about girls getting lost and never being seen again." She smothered another sob with her hand. "I had a dim hope that you'd gone with Jack, but then he returned without you. We've been out of our minds with worry. Jack was just on his way out again to search for you."
Jack stood to one side in the foyer of the hotel. A desolate, bleak shadow passed across his face before he turned away, presenting me with a view of his back. He drew in several deep breaths and his fingers gripped the marble tabletop, his knuckles white.
"I'll speak to him," Samuel said.
"No!" Sylvia and I cried.
"Jack's temper is not to be trifled with," I added.
"He's not angry," Sylvia said, blinking at me. "He's as relieved as I am to have you back safely."
"In that case, perhaps I should be the one to speak to him." But I didn't get the chance. He strode off and up the stairs, taking two at a time. I sighed. "Perhaps tomorrow."
"Where did you go?" Sylvia asked.
"For a walk with Samuel."
She lifted a brow. "Samuel? I see. Well. I admit I thought a man of your profession would have better manners than to go walking in the dark with a young lady. I must admit, I'm very disappointed in you, Mr. Gladstone."
"Don't blame him," I said. "It was all my fault. I insisted."
"But...why? Where did you go?"
"Nowhere in particular. I needed some fresh air."
"Fresh air? In London?" Her gaze flicked to Samuel then back to me again. "I see."
"I'd better be on my way." Samuel bowed to both of us. "Good night, ladies. I'm glad I could be of service, Lady Violet."
"You were. Thank you, Samuel, from the bottom of my heart. Good bye."
He grinned and walked out the door. I hooked my arm through Sylvia's, and we headed for the stairs.
"Are you quite sure Jack isn't angry?" I asked. "He looked rather tempestuous just now."
"If he were angry, he'd have sparks spitting from his fingertips."
"I suppose so. Then why did he storm off without speaking to me?"
"Can't you see? He was sick with worry, then you returned and it was obvious you'd spent the last little while walking with a man in the dark. A man that wasn't him."
"Oh." But there'd been something more in his eyes as he gazed at me. Not jealousy, but bitter disappointment too.
CHAPTER 9
