Lillian Holmes and the Leaping Man

by Ciar Cullen

“I am sorry. It will not happen again.”

  “Is this the preamble to murder, this nick upon my neck?”

  “No, not with you. It is a lust to taste all of you… How can I explain? All my desires blend into one. But you are safe.” He ripped her waistcoat away and leaned back, staring at the pistol tucked in her skirt band. “Might we remove that for now? I will return it to you.”

  Looking into his eyes, Lillian believed him. She pulled the pistol free and put it on the table next to the settee. Then she reached up her sleeve and removed the slender dagger she wore.

  George narrowed his eyes and shook his head. Then smiled. “Anything else I need to know about?”

  “My diary names you as my killer should I not return home.”

  “Splendid. How much time do we have before they come looking for you?”

  “At least a year.”

  She slid her hand down his chest and brushed the smooth skin with her palms. With a growl, he picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. He threw his nightgown onto the floor and knelt next to her, a pale muscular marble statue, chest heaving with effort as he tore layer after layer of clothing off of her.

  “Aileen will be angry; this dress is new.”

  “Shut up and help me.”

  When she was down to her corset, he fell on her, licking an icy hot path down her neck and, after freeing her breasts from the tight fabric, licking and suckling on her nipples. This was not the ardor of her fantasies. It was better. This man would tear her apart, inch by inch, and she would beg him to do it again. She arched against his mouth and cried his name, raking her nails across his back and pleading for more, for less, for mercy as his touches sent lightning to her sex and thunder in her ears.

  “Tell me you want this,” he whispered as he ran his palm down her stomach and ripped her bloomers away. “Tell me you need this, that I don’t frighten you.”

  “You do frighten me. And I want this, I want you.” She tensed for a moment, remembering a night in which she was young, naked, and frightened, when no one asked or cared what she wanted. This man, this man cared. She pushed down the past and blew out the breath she was holding.

  “This is so cruel.” He brought her hand to his stomach, and she ran it down the cords of muscle along his hips. She found her prize, thick and hard with urgent need. As she ran her palm over the slick head, he cried out and then took her in a kiss again.

  She ran her hand along the shaft, tentatively at first, then in long, hard strokes that seemed to please him most, and he bucked and nipped at her neck. Another tiny nick—she felt it—and he backed away.

  “I’m so sorry, Lil. The taste of you, it draws me, it overwhelms me…”

  “I will be wearing high collars this winter,” she joked. But God, is it true? He wants my neck more than my womanhood?

  George pulled away and stared into her eyes. “I am damaged, my love. I am not sure of myself. You are everything… You don’t know…”

  “We are all damaged, George. Please, please do not stop now.”

  “Forgive me, then, for I was always a selfish man.”

  He tore the rest of her clothes away and stripped himself fully naked, a beautiful man with fire in his eyes. She brushed his overlong hair from his face as he hovered over her, and she watched as his irises and pupils blended to black. Slowly at first, he pressed himself into her, and when she stretched to receive him, he built a slick fire with a steady rhythm that sent sparks through her veins. She watched him as long as she could keep her eyes open, watched the greed and need on his wondrous face. When she had to close her eyes as sensations drowned her and stars exploded in the darkness, she heard his hiss and whispered curse. He fell on her finally and said her name.

  She nestled against his chest and held on, knowing that like everyone else who mattered, he would be taken away from her as well. Willing herself not to cry, she wondered what she would wear home. Hopefully her skirt was in one piece.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  A hint of better times.

  In silence, George retrieved his robe and moved to the sitting room, giving Lillian time to wash and dress as best she could. He regretted the interlude, regretted ever having met her. Didn’t she feel the same? It was not better to have lusted and lost. Especially in the space of a few days.

  Why should he not feel sated now? No, his hunger intensified by the moment, both for her blood and her sex. No, for all of her. To own her, to own her forever.

  Why not, then? Take her, turn her, keep her! But he knew he wouldn’t, and he wondered if he’d ever understand why.

  ***

  “Get on with it, Lil,” she thought. “You have survived worse. You have mysteries to solve.” The mystery of her mother, the mystery of her stolen child. If only she had a bottle of small pills to calm her nerves, but no, that would be choosing a different kind of death. Better to die a little bit at a time and let Providence take its natural course.

  George tapped at the bedroom door and put her pistol, dagger, hat, and boots on the dresser. “Are you well?”

  His broad smile mocked the dread she felt. Could he be that uncaring, to not know that he had moved her body and soul? Of course, hadn’t he claimed a tryst with her neighbor? And how many other neighbors? He had told her he was her worst enemy. Perhaps he had been telling the truth.

  “I am quite well, sir. I will join you in a moment.”

  “I was thinking we might have dinner tomorrow…somewhere discreet. If my enemy has not found me. Would you consider that?” Then he left her to finish dressing.

  The uncertainty in his voice thrilled her. How out of character. Could he have been moved? No, he wanted another coupling, that was all. And what do you want, Lillian Holmes? Certainly not a man with so many secrets that he could not be trusted. But it squeezed at her heart, the realization that she did want someone. Not a fortune-seeker like Aloysius Hoyt but a man who would not want her to change, who would forgive her oddities, absolve her of the shame of her past addiction and help keep her on the straight and narrow, and who would accept her child, should she be able to find her. No, she wanted a man to help her find her daughter, to help raise her as his own. She wanted to be loved. It is a tall order, she thought.

  “Oh, and passion!” she added to herself. Not the quick encounter she’d just had with George. They hadn’t truly shared passion. For he did not love her, and she did not love him. They were simply two odd creatures thrown together by God for an unfathomable purpose. George Orleans had given her that gift of need and desire. Perhaps that was reason enough.

  What had she given him? Forgiveness? Forbearance? At least he didn’t languish in a prison for assaulting her. Yet, had it truly felt like an assault? No, it had felt like the oddest of courtships.

  He was in the next room, and yet he felt a million miles away. She smelled him on her clothes, felt the aftereffects of their coupling; her lips still tingled from his kisses. But he would remain a mystery, and he would leave her again. There seemed no question of that.

  She finished dressing and steeled herself for seeing his handsome face again, his penetrating eyes, his lips either quirked up in a smile or pressed tightly together for whatever pain he kept inside. He waited for her, pacing, tall and stately, elegant long fingers pushing through his disheveled hair.

  Lillian stood in the bedroom doorway, staring transfixed as he turned and stared at her. “The Leaping Man,” she whispered. “I wish I understood the Leaping Man.”

  “I understand him less at this moment than ever before.”

  “You were to be my first case, the first criminal to be locked up, taken away from society because of my sleuthing. Instead, I now begin another case. I will find my child and learn about my mother. I have my wits, and perhaps my health. The city no longer wants my demise.”

  “And what of your Uncle Sherlock? Must you release that fantasy as well? What a shame. I found it rather endearing.”

  Lillian laughed, the sound nearly foreign to her ears. Sh
e lifted her chin and smiled. “How do you know it’s not true? Are you so certain that there isn’t a real Sherlock Holmes somewhere?”

  “Fairly certain. At least not by that name.”

  “I rather think I’ll still call him Uncle. He has served me well these few years. I cannot tolerate the thought of being completely normal.”

  “I don’t think you need worry about that.”

  His sad smile silenced her retort. So, this was the end, and they both knew it.

  “Don’t let your enemy find you. Leave now. I am well. You needn’t ever worry about me. Don’t let me spend my days worried about you. Perhaps you will send me a letter and tell me of your escapades, my Leaping Man. I will tell you about my cases, and you can advise me from afar.”

  “Lil.” His voice broke, and he turned away.

  “Go, go then. I wish you trusted me enough to let me help you as you have helped me. But never mind that, I know you will not. Flee this city before it swallows you as it once wanted to swallow me. Go to a place where it is safe to be a vampire.”

  He opened his mouth in shock, then closed it and stared into her eyes for a long moment. “Then you understand why I leave you. I have enjoyed our short friendship. If I had anything to offer God, I would trade it for a chance to…have more time with you.”

  Lillian thought her chest would burst. What to do? What to say? Did he truly mean it? Yes, she saw it in his eyes, and she knew finally what she wanted.

  “This would seem the right time to ask if I’d flee with you, George. A sane woman would not entertain the idea, but the niece of Sherlock Holmes craves adventure, and, although she does not easily admit it, companionship. Or, if you prefer, we could fight your enemy together, here. I could enlist…well, Bess would be willing, and Constable Moran surely would help if the cause were just. Also your brother, Kitty, Annaluisa…you are not alone. The woman is called Marie? How could one woman compete against us all? Especially given your particular talent for draining mortals of their life blood.”

  He fell into the armchair and put his hands over his face. Through his fingers he whispered, “Do you love me, Lillian?”

  It was a startling question, as was the answer. “I rather think I do.”

  “Knowing what you know?”

  He looked at her now, and she took a step back, shocked at a trickle of blood on his cheek as he shed a red tear, his eyes scarlet-tinted in an unnatural way. Her hands shook and her nerves sprang to life. Still, she held her ground.

  “Do you love what you see now? How ugly am I to you? Do you know what it is to commit unthinkable acts on a daily basis with no remorse?” His skin grew even paler, and a dark vein surfaced on his temple.

  “While I am unaccustomed to seeing this change, it is not totally unexpected. And I do hear remorse in your voice.”

  “Blazes, woman! Leave now! Don’t you understand? Before I change my mind and drain the life from your body! Go!”

  Lillian took a seat across from him. How certain was she of her love? Well, she hadn’t truly lived before she met him, so would she lose so much? “No, I won’t go, not unless you tell me you do not love me.”

  “I do not love you.”

  His words didn’t sting, as his voice shook and he would not meet her gaze. “Nonsense. You are trying to protect me…from a vampire. I did read Mr. Stoker’s new novel. I thought it complete fiction, but then, they say that truth is stranger than fiction.”

  “You know nothing about it.”

  “Of course, I was not convinced at first, but then I remembered Mr. Holmes’s rule.”

  “What?”

  “When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. I must say, this situation has tested my definitions of impossible and improbable. I have believed it for quite a while.” Lillian stood and reached her hand down to George. “So, which will it be? Will you kill me now, will you stay and fight with my assistance, or shall we flee Baltimore?”

  He took her hand and stood, and brushed away a bloody tear. “It would never be safe for you. My kind will always find me, and that makes your safety impossible. If one of them…changed you, Lillian, I could not bear it. It’s a dreadful life, one that defies description. You would hate it, you would hate me. I cannot guarantee you will be protected from that, although I would do my best…”

  “I know,” she said. The words meant everything.

  “I love you so much,” he whispered.

  “I know.”

  George pulled her in so tightly he squeezed the air from her lungs, but he breathed life back into her with his demanding kiss. He pulled away and, holding her close, spoke as if to himself. “I don’t deserve this moment of happiness. It cannot be true.”

  “Do remember Mr. Holmes’s rule, George.”

  His laughter melted her heart, and he kissed her again.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Lillian finds her nemesis.

  George snickered as he packed his things, wondering how Lillian would take to the Wild West. She was home collecting her belongings.

  He’d spent an hour ignoring the pulls at his conscience and allowed himself a feeling so rare he barely remembered ever having experienced it: joy. He laughed again at himself, at his infatuation. No, obsession, he corrected. Only an hour or so, and he’d be in her company again. He’d never let her out of his sight. Of course, he had to find a way to defeat Marie and eventually return to Baltimore, sooner rather than later, for Lil still had to find her daughter. And they needed to find Annaluisa to learn about her mother. If what he remembered of his brief conversation on the subject was correct, he’d have to prepare Lillian for the second shocking truth: Her mother was not quite dead.

  How would this all work? The worry was just under the surface, and he struggled to push it down. What would she say when he had to feed, had to kill? How had Phillip managed? Damn it, why isn’t he here? I would speak with Kitty as well.

  The urgent banging on his door startled him. No, not Marie, not now! Then again, Marie would likely not come crashing into his hotel room. She would have less obvious ways of removing him.

  “Mr. Orleans, please answer!”

  The Wheeler woman. George ran to the door and pulled Bess inside. His heart dropped at the state of her. Perspiration beaded on her forehead, her hair was disheveled, and her eyes showed signs of recent tears.

  “What has happened to Lil?” He clutched the young woman by the shoulders and had to resist shaking her for an answer.

  Bess struggled to catch her breath as he helped her to a chair. “I came as quickly as I could. I am slow with my foot—”

  “You did the right thing. Tell me!”

  “They are there, the Jackal and Dr. Schneider. I know they mean to lock her away again. They want to dismiss Thomas and Addie, have already thrown Aileen and her brothers out onto the street. Lil was arguing with them when I arrived. I am sure now they want her money and not her health! I never liked Pemberton, but I thought the doctor… Never mind that now. Go, please help her!”

  George pulled on his overcoat and loaded a pistol he kept for just such occasions. He caught Bess’s wide-eyed stare. “It will be all right. Hopefully they won’t force me to kill them.” Though I’m unlikely to do it with this.

  “Oh, I hope you do!” The girl’s face was grimmer than he imagined it had ever been. “I was wondering if you have another weapon that I could use?”

  “Lil would not forgive me if you were to be hurt. Please go to your home, and I’ll be sure to send word.”

  Bess looked mournful. “I could not keep up with you in any case. I would gladly accept this grotesque limp for the rest of my life if this one day I could move quickly to help you!”

  George squeezed her hand. “You have already done magnificently.” Then he rushed out the door, terror squeezing his heart.

  Lillian’s residence seemed quiet when he arrived, with a light burning only in the front parlor. A cab with the marking of a hospit
al was pulled up close; a largish-looking man was strolling up and down before its horses.

  Yes, they meant to take her away. He would find entry into her home through the alleyway.

  ***

  Just the sight of the Jackal made Lillian’s skin crawl and her stomach twist. When had she last been near him? Only once or twice since that night so many years ago, and she had denied herself that memory. His soft fat hands laced together over his girth, his greasy hair now thinned and his nose now bulbous, no doubt from drink. The years had not been kind to a man who was ugly to begin with.

  And now, clearly, a second betrayal unfolded.

  “How long have you been in the employ of this man, Dr. Schneider? Since I was sixteen or so?”

  A flash of confusion across his face gave her hope. “Lillian, we are friends. I am concerned for you.”

  “Whatever this man has told you is a lie. He is after my inheritance. I am as sane as you.”

  “My dear, the fantasies have returned, the elixirs… You need help.”

  “I am not delusional. I am damaged, perhaps, but that was not my doing. Until an hour ago, I was actually happy for the first time in my life. That was not your doing, not Francis Pemberton’s. Once again, you are dismissed. Both of you. I have retained new counsel, and he will see to my affairs shortly. His name is Wheeler.”

  The men exchanged a quick glance, and Lillian’s heart sank. She would attempt to flee, but she knew they would stop her. She screamed in anger and impotent rage. Were Addie and Thomas still in the house? It seemed not. She was so alone, so totally alone, in the hands of two men who had helped destroy her life.

  Would George come again to the asylum, free her again, take her far away where the monsters could not follow? No, this time they would see to it that she didn’t live long. Looking into Francis Pemberton’s eyes she was certain he would never let her assume independence over her estate, would never risk the truth of his crime be exposed. No, he saw he had lost control over her. And he would likely kill her rather than relinquish her fortune.

  “I only had one day with him,” she murmured. “You gave me only one day.”