A Rip in Time (Out of Time #7)

by Monique Martin

  “The small changes we’re experiencing now will grow and multiply, and eventually stop reversing themselves. A new history will be written, and everything we know will be cease to be.”

  He stopped walking and picked up a file from his desk.

  “What’s the event that changed?” Elizabeth asked.

  “As I’m sure you know, Jack the Ripper was never caught. In the altered timeline, he was.”

  “You know who Jack the Ripper was?” Jack asked, sitting forward now.

  “No.”

  “But you just—”

  “His body was found, mutilated beyond recognition, not unlike his victims.”

  Simon frowned. “How do you know it was Jack the Ripper then?”

  “He was found in a boarding house room with…” Travers faltered here and took a breath, “parts of his victims. His clothing, his build, they all fit the known description. And the fifth and final victim, the most brutal of all of the killings, was never harmed. She lived another thirty years. Moved to Liverpool, married a shoe salesman and had 2 daughters before dying of influenza in 1918.”

  Elizabeth tried to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as it grew. “So, Jack the Ripper was killed and that’s what led to the altered timeline?”

  “Exactly.”

  The sinking feeling sank a little further. “And what is it you want us to do about it?”

  Travers sighed and looked apologetic. “I’m afraid I need you to go to 1888 London, find out who Jack the Ripper was, and save his life.”

  ~~~

  “Macallan 25. Neat.”

  “The same,” Jack said, as he handed the cocktail menu back to the waiter, wincing as he did. “Make mine a double.”

  Elizabeth was tempted to order a martini and slowly slide under the table, forgetting what Travers had just asked them to do, but there was no ignoring it.

  “Just water for now, thank you.”

  The waiter nodded and disappeared, and the three of them sat in silence.

  The Laurel Court at the Fairmont was elegant and controlled. It was bright and airy, the exact opposite of how each of them was feeling. Simon idly ran his fingers along the edge of the brown leather portfolio Travers had given them, while Jack focused on flexing the hand of his injured arm.

  “Well,” Elizabeth said finally, leaning back in her plush wingback chair. “That was an interesting day.”

  Simon grunted in response.

  “Saving Jack the Ripper,” Elizabeth said, then, feeling self-conscious, lowered her voice. “I don’t know. The idea of it, it…”

  “Is repellent?” Simon suggested. “Abhorrent? Repulsive even to contemplate?”

  “I was going to say makes me want to barf, but yeah.” Not to mention the other bombshell he’d dropped. Not only was Jack the Ripper dead and gone, people were disappearing, fading in and out all over history.

  Jack stopped fussing with his arm and let it relax onto the table. “If what Travers said is true, do we really have any choice?”

  Neither Simon nor Elizabeth replied. Since their meeting with Travers, they’d all been lost in their own thoughts. They’d been on difficult missions before, but this was something else entirely.

  “It’s terrifying to think of people just disappearing,” Elizabeth said, hoping to shift her thoughts away from Jack the Ripper. Travers had told them that because of the changing timeline, several Council members had already ceased to be, or be there then, or something.

  Whatever Katherine Vale had done to alter time, the consequences were already being felt. Her newly regrown finger aside, Elizabeth thought with a shudder, people were changing. Their memories, their histories were being rewritten. In some cases, actual people disappeared, relocated to an alternate timeline, only to reappear, and some to disappear again. In other cases, it was simply the memories of events that were wiped out, or at least that’s how it seemed. Sometimes, just a day, a specific moment in time was lost and for others entire years were cut out from their memories, like ice-cream scooped from a carton.

  Elizabeth looked over at Simon. She didn’t know what she’d do if she forgot him, or if he simply disappeared.

  Simon, as he always seemed to do, appeared to follow her thoughts. He stopped toying with the base of his water glass, offered her a wan smile and took her hand.

  “It’s troubling,” he said in the master of understatement way the British had when discussing disasters.

  Jack’s brow furrowed, clearly trying to make sense of this nonsensical mess. “Travers said that these fluxes in time, that they’re specific to the person, right? You could forget something that I remember or vice versa.”

  “Yes. It puts a new spin on ‘time is relative,’ doesn’t it?” Simon paused as the waiter returned with their drinks. He took a sip of his scotch before continuing.

  “It seems as though these instabilities are individualized, at least for now. The Council postulates that the effects will cascade with growing frequency and duration until they’re universal and irreversible.”

  “But until they’re permanent, they come and go,” Elizabeth said. She pictured them like fireflies blinking on and off in the darkness.

  “Yes, until one timeline or the other…wins, for lack of a better way to put it.”

  Elizabeth rubbed a few brain cells together. “So, the original timeline and the new timeline are sort of co-existing. The change has occurred and yet it hasn’t? So, it’s flip-flopping between them?”

  Simon took another sip of scotch and nodded. “Precisely, until the new timeline overwrites the old completely.”

  “Dollars to donuts,” Jack said, “any changes that head case made are ones we’re not gonna like.”

  “No doubt. Of course,” Simon said, “we’re only accepting Travers’ rather dubious word that we will be affected at all.”

  “Not really,” Elizabeth said quietly. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Travers, but…”

  Both men shifted in their seats to face her with varying degrees of oh no, you di’int.

  “I didn’t think anything of it at the time,” Elizabeth said with an apologetic shrug. “I thought it was just fatigue playing mind games, but…earlier, I had a sort of dizzy spell—”

  “Elizabeth—”

  “It was nothing,” she said quickly to fend off Simon’s Lecture Mode. “It was really fast, but I had this strange feeling, just for a second, that our house wasn’t…our house.”

  The worry lines between Simon’s eyes deepened.

  “It was over in seconds, but I think maybe it was one of these flux thingies. It was weird, like I wasn’t who I am,” she said and then met Simon’s gaze. “It didn’t scare me then, but it does now.”

  Simon nodded slowly, his jaw clenched.

  “Well, then that’s that, isn’t it?” Jack said. He raised his glass. “To London we go.”

  Chapter Four

  “WHY COULDN’T SHE HAVE chosen some other time to mess around with?” Elizabeth pouted as she waited to have her measurements taken.

  Simon raised his arm at the tailor’s silent urging and the man efficiently stretched out his measuring tape along it and then jotted down the results in a small notebook.

  “It’s not as bad as all that,” Simon said.

  “You wouldn’t say that with a straight face if you had to wear a corset.”

  Simon chuckled. “No, I suppose not.”

  “I think we should go to seventeenth century Scotland next. You’d kill it in a kilt.”

  Simon gave her eyebrow waggles a sour look in return as he stepped off the small platform and helped her to take his place.

  She smiled wickedly back at him and he let himself laugh. It felt good. Damn good. The last few weeks had been a study in tension. And considering it seemed it was not about to relent anytime soon, he would take any joy where he could find it. He hadn’t expected it to be in the bowels of the Council Clothiers though.

  He had to give credit wh
ere credit was due; the Council’s resources were impressive. In this department alone they had a tailor, seamstress, and historical advisor, not to mention a cavernous warehouse of clothing from every era imaginable.

  “Do I have to wear a corset?” Elizabeth turned and asked the tailor hopefully. “My figure’s not bad, is it?”

  The tailor huffed out a frustrated breath. “Please stand still. Your figure is perfectly acceptable for a modern woman. But,” he continued, “for a woman of substance in the 1880s, it will not do to go au naturel, as it were.”

  He measured her chest and eyed her thoughtfully. “We could, however, add a bust enhancer.”

  Simon snorted and coughed to cover it.

  Elizabeth gave him a searing look, but there was only humor behind it. She knew perfectly well he was more than content with every part of her just as it was.

  “No, thank you,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “Some ladies prefer them,” the tailor said with a shrug. “They tend to help balance out the bustle.”

  “Bustle?” Elizabeth scrunched up her face in distaste, but he knew that when the time came, she would endure it all with a smile. If only that were all they would have to endure.

  Once they were finished with their measurements, what came next was every man’s nightmare shopping trip. They spent hours selecting clothes, smalls, jewelry, hats, gloves, shoes, canes, and any number of other things. By the end of it all, Simon would have worn whatever they’d suggested. Even a kilt. Jack had the right idea. Get in and get out. He’d fled as soon as he could for more interesting pursuits, planning to meet them later in the armory.

  With the bulk of the preparations left to them, Simon and Elizabeth arranged for traveling money at the Council’s financial department. That not only included a considerable sum of cash, but a letter of introduction that would give them access to an account with Bank of England with nearly unlimited funds. There were, it seemed, some perks after all in working with the Council.

  They were sent to a pharmacy where they were given discreetly labeled powders, draughts and ointments that would provide them with the safety of having modern medicine at hand. Next was a trip to the documents office where they were given any traveling papers they might need. That left only the armory, where Jack was waiting for them.

  Unlike the other departments they’d visited, which were all stylishly decorated offices where no expense was spared, the armory looked more like a deserted bank. The room itself was large, but virtually empty except for a barred cashier’s cage that ran half the length of the far wall. Inside was a large man in a dark suit and another who stood at the small opening in the bars. Jack stood fondling a large elegant pistol.

  “Good. You’re here. Look at this,” he said, brimming with excitement. He held up a handsome gun with an outrageously elongated grip and muzzle. “It’s an Albanian Rat Tail.”

  “Lovely,” Simon said.

  “You just don’t know guns,” Jack said as he held it up and admired it. “I would marry this gun if I could.”

  “Perhaps we can arrange that,” Simon said, “when we get back.”

  Jack smirked and put the gun back onto the velvet pad atop the counter.

  “It’s a little long, isn’t it?” Elizabeth said.

  Jack shook his head. “Oh, it’s not for the trip, I’d just never seen one before. You won’t believe the stuff they have back there.”

  “Let’s focus on our mission, shall we?” Simon said.

  Jack sighed, but waved for the man behind the counter to take the gun away. He set it aside and brought out a tray of smaller revolvers and pistols.

  “Find anything you like?” Travers voice said from the doorway behind them.

  “Impressive place you got here,” Jack said as he hefted a gun and then frowned, apparently finding it lacking, and put it back to search for another.

  “Yes, we’re rather proud of it,” Travers said. He held out a large brown leather portfolio. “A little light reading for tonight. It’s a great deal to take in, I’m afraid, but we don’t have much time with the eclipse tomorrow night. We can’t afford to miss it.”

  Simon nodded in agreement. He and Elizabeth had decided not to tell Travers about the key that Teddy Fiske had given them, which allowed them to travel in time without the need of an eclipse. Its presence was one even the Council didn’t know about. Although, it was likely they suspected something, considering Simon and Elizabeth had traveled without the benefit of an eclipse several times. The Council might have been untrustworthy, but they were not stupid. Either way, Simon and Elizabeth decided it was best to keep it under wraps for as long as they could.

  Simon strode toward Travers, Elizabeth close behind, leaving Jack to pick out their weapons.

  “We’ll read it tonight,” Elizabeth said as she reached out to take the notebook.

  “And these are journals.” Travers gestured to three small books stacked on top of the portfolio. “You’ll want to write down anything—”

  “Guys,” Jack said behind them. The nervous tenor of his voice immediately captured everyone’s attention and as one they turned to him.

  His hand was at his temple and he looked dazed.

  He took a staggering step forward, the gun in his hand clattering to the floor. He looked on the verge of collapse.

  “I think it’s happening,” he said breathlessly.

  Both Elizabeth and Simon started toward him, but he held up a hand to stop them. They paused and he looked at them. His expression was worried, confused and apologetic. He tried to say something, but there was no sound. He blurred for a moment, as though they were seeing him through heavy rain.

  “Jack!”

  Elizabeth reached toward him, but Simon grabbed her arm. They had no idea what touching someone in this state could mean. Elizabeth pulled against him, but he would not let go. They both watched with horror as Jack looked at them helplessly.

  And then, with words they could not hear on his lips, he was gone.

  “Oh, dear,” Travers said softly.

  Elizabeth pulled herself from Simon’s grip and hurried toward Travers. “Is he dead? Where’d he go?”

  “I’m not sure,” Travers admitted. “It’s possible he’s safe and sound in 1942 London. As safe as someone can be there then.”

  Elizabeth looked to Simon for an explanation. His mind reeled with what he’d just seen, but he was starting to understand. “If time for him was changed in such a way that we never met him,” Simon thought aloud, “or that we never brought him back to the future, he’d still be in London living the life he would have lived without us.”

  “Exactly,” Travers said. “We can’t know for sure, but that’s the theory.”

  “The theory?” Elizabeth’s eyes were filled with concern. “Will he come back? You said things come and go? Will he just…appear again?”

  Travers looked at her sadly. “Possibly.”

  Simon could see Elizabeth fighting down her emotions. Jack was far more than just a friend; he was family.

  “When we set things right, he’ll be back,” Simon assured her.

  After letting out a shuddering breath to control herself, Elizabeth nodded.

  He might not have shown it outwardly, but Simon felt the same way Elizabeth did. For Jack to vanish so quickly, without any warning, was horrifying. Worse yet, there was no telling who or what might be next. He took firm hold of Elizabeth’s hand.

  “We can hope,” Travers said. He looked anxiously between them. “I’m afraid time is not on our side though.”

  Simon looked back at the spot where Jack had stood just moments before. “It never is.”

  ~~~

  Elizabeth had insisted that they wait in the armory, just in case. But it was no use. An hour went by and then another, and Jack did not return. Elizabeth’s stomach tightened as they finally left. If the cold, hard reality of what might happen, of what was happening, if they didn’t go back and complete their mission wasn’t clear be
fore, it certainly was now. Reality had punched them both right in the gut.

  Tomorrow they would travel back in time, hunt down Jack the Ripper and save him. If today’s events were anything to go by, the alternative was unthinkable.

  They retired early to their hotel room and although neither of them had mentioned it, it was clear they weren’t about to leave each other’s sides. Elizabeth knew they wouldn’t be able to keep that up 24/7, but for now, neither went anywhere alone.

  Finally, they settled into the bedroom to do their reading for the next day. The files Travers had given them were extensive. They would never be able to finish them, much less remember everything in them. As tempting as it was, they couldn’t risk muddying the timeline by bringing the files. It was far too great a risk.

  The first few files had turned Elizabeth’s stomach. She hadn’t been expecting crime scene photos from the 1800s, and yet there they were. Somehow, the grainy, black and white made them just that much more disturbing.

  There was a file for each of the five canonical victims and another dozen for the various suspects who ranged from an escaped mental patient to Prince Albert Victor, the Queen’s son, himself.

  The murders took place over the course of just under two and a half months. The exact date of the murder of Jack the Ripper was difficult for the Council to pin down. Their best guess was that it occurred sometime between the fourth and fifth murders, probably closer to the fourth.

  The plan was to arrive a few days before the first murder to give them the best chance of discovering the killer. That meant they’d be in London for just over a month. It was a harrowing prospect to chase a madman for weeks on end. Perhaps the only thing worse than searching for him, would be finding him.

  Although she knew it sickened him to his core, Simon gave no indication of the depth of his disgust as he leaned back against the headboard of their bed and read through the files. He was doing one of the things he did best—compartmentalize. It was a skill she envied right now. He was able, in most things, to keep a cool head. Sure as shootin’, they would need every ounce of his Vulcan blood this time.