Elizabeth swallowed. “So you killed her.”
He nodded. “I’ve done everything exactly as it’s supposed to be. I know it all by heart. Where they’ll be, how I’ll cut them. I’m simply a tool of destiny.”
Holy crap, Elizabeth thought, what was with the crazies and their destinies?
“And as you know,” Graham said, “I’m not quite finished.”
“Not yet,” Simon said, emphasizing the last word.
Graham smiled at the implied threat and then shrugged. “Everyone dies. But I don’t die here and I don’t die now. And since I need your assistance…you don’t either.”
It was a horrific stalemate. They knew what he was, what he was going to do, and they couldn’t stop it. And Graham couldn’t kill them because he needed them to help keep him alive so he could kill. It was the worst kind of Gordian knot, and Alexander and his sword were nowhere to be found.
~~~
Simon looked around their new hotel room. It was significantly smaller than their previous suite, but it had one added benefit. Neither Graham nor Vale knew where it was.
The first thing they’d done when they’d left Graham’s hovel was return to their hotel and get the hell out of it. It was bad enough when one murdering psychopath knew where they lived, but two….The second thing they’d done was find Freddie and send a note off to Victor.
It had been several hours now and they’d had no reply. Simon knew Renaud could take care of himself, when he wasn’t pissed, but he felt a worry take root in his stomach and grow with each passing hour.
A knock on the door interrupted Simon’s gloomy train of thought.
“Who is it?” he asked before opening the door.
“Freddie.”
Simon opened the door and there stood young Freddie, looking tired and unwell.
“Are you all right?”
The boy nodded and swiped at his nose with his forearm. “Got a message.”
Simon held out his hand, but the boy shook his head.
“Ain’t writ down.”
“All right,” Simon said. “What is it?”
Freddie looked down and squinted as he tried to remember it. “Important news. Need to see you. London Bridge 4 a.m.”
“That’s all?” Simon asked.
The boy nodded but he seemed nervous.
“Is something wrong, Freddie?” Elizabeth asked as she joined Simon at the door.
“No, miss,” Freddie said quickly. “It’s just I needs to get back to me brother.”
“If there’s anything we can do….”
The boy nodded quickly and hurried down the hall.
Simon closed the door and turned to Elizabeth. “Why no note?”
Elizabeth shrugged, but said, “Maybe he didn’t have time to write it down?”
“Perhaps.” Changes to the usual methods and Freddie’s odd behavior had him worried. “I don’t like this.”
Elizabeth sighed. “It’s a little weird, but…”
“We go,” Simon agreed. “But we don’t go unprepared.”
~~~
Elizabeth wrapped her coat more snugly about her as they waited in the shadows on the shore at the far end of the bridge. They’d gone early and found a good vantage point to watch the diminishing traffic. But even from there, they couldn’t see more than halfway across. The darkness and distance were too great. The bridge spanned almost 100 yards across the Thames.
Simon took his hand from his pocket where Elizabeth knew it had been wrapped around a gun, and checked his watch. “Ten past.”
He frowned and put his watch back in his vest pocket.
“What do we do now?” she asked.
“Wait.”
And so they did. Ten minutes turned into twenty and then thirty. Finally, she saw someone walking across the bridge, alone.
“There,” she said, pointing.
“I see him.”
Whoever it was, stopped in the middle and waited. From so far away it was impossible to see who it was, but he was far too short to be Victor. Whoever it was stood near the balustrade and waved his arms in the air.
“Hallo?”
The voice was small, but one they knew. Freddie.
Simon looked at Elizabeth warily.
“What’s he doing here?” she asked.
He frowned and slipped his hand back into his pocket with his gun. “Stay close.”
It took them a few minutes to get to the edge of the bridge and they started the long walk toward the center. It was an oddly vulnerable feeling. They were so exposed, but they had to find what was wrong.
A few lone carriages made their way across, the sound of the wheels and horse’s hooves loud in the quiet and stillness of the night.
When they got close enough, Simon called out in a hoarse whisper, “Freddie?”
The boy kept his eyes trained on the river beneath them.
“What’s wrong?” Simon asked. “Where’s Victor?”
Freddie sniffled and then finally turned to face them. “I’m sorry.”
“What’s…”
Elizabeth knew they’d been trapped. It wasn’t a sound, but the lack of one. A carriage that had been passing by stopped and they all turned toward it.
Simon had his gun out and pointed it at the driver.
Even in the darkness Elizabeth recognized him. Roderick, Dr. Blackwood’s valet.
“Now, now, don’t do something foolish,” a woman said from inside the carriage. Elizabeth knew that voice as well.
Simon didn’t move and kept his gun trained on Roderick.
The carriage door opened and a small boy, Alfie, stepped out. Behind him came Katherine Vale, a small pistol pressed against the boy’s temple.
Elizabeth instinctively took a half-step forward, but stopped herself. Next to her, Simon’s hand remained amazingly steady.
“Let the boy go,” he said.
“It’s all right, Alfie,” Freddie said.
The smaller boy shivered with fear.
Elizabeth edged in front of Freddie to shield him.
“Katherine,” she said, hoping she could still reach the young woman she’d gotten to know. “Please—”
“Put down your gun or I’ll blow this boy’s brains out,” she said calmly. “I think you know I will.”
Both the words and the cold way she said them sent a chill through Elizabeth. Simon glanced at her once, but they both knew he had no choice and lowered the gun.
“On the ground,” she instructed him.
He dropped it to the pavement.
“Step back,” she told them.
The three of them did as they were told and took a step back and then another, until they were standing up against the edge of the bridge and touching the balustrade.
“Get the gun,” Vale ordered and Roderick climbed down from his perch atop the carriage.
“And his watch,” she added after Roderick had picked up the gun. “I seem to have lost mine.”
The valet looked at her oddly, but she didn’t take her eyes from them.
“Just do it,” she said.
Roderick stepped forward in front of Simon. “Easy way or the hard way, makes no difference to me.”
Simon grunted in frustration and handed his watch to him.
Roderick slipped it into his pocket and then moved back next to the coach.
Vale smiled. “Don’t worry, you won’t be needing it.”
“Let the boy go,” Simon said again.
“I think I will,” she said. “But I need one more thing.”
Her eyes drifted over to Elizabeth and her smile grew.
“No,” Simon said.
Vale pulled Aflie closer and pushed the gun against his skull.
“It’s okay,” Elizabeth said, stepping forward.
She looked at him sadly. What could they do? She couldn’t let Vale kill Alfie. She might kill them all anyway, but if there was something, anything Elizabeth could that might save his life, she had to do it.
“It’s all right,” Elizabeth said to Alfie as she raised her hands in front of her and slowly stepped forward.
“Elizabeth,” Simon said in an anguished voice, but she knew he wouldn’t argue with her; couldn’t argue with her.
Elizabeth crossed the final few steps to stand in front of Vale and Alfie. She knelt down. “Go to your brother,” she said with a pleading look to Vale.
Vale released him and he hurried to Freddie’s side.
Roderick came up behind Elizabeth and stuffed a kerchief in her mouth, jerking it tight and then tying the ends behind her head. The coarse fabric dug into the corners of her mouth and she gagged.
Simon took a half-step forward, but Vale raised her gun.
Elizabeth looked at Simon, willing him not to move, not to do anything stupid. If they were both alive, they had a chance.
Roderick pulled her arms behind her back so hard that Elizabeth let out a small gasp. He bound her hands so tightly they were already beginning to tingle.
Her heart raged in her chest and her mind whirled. What was Vale doing? Where was she taking her?
She looked at Simon again and forced a small, brave smile to her lips. I’m okay, she tried to tell him, but they both knew it was a lie.
“Inside,” Vale ordered and Roderick shoved Elizabeth up the step and into the carriage before climbing back up to the driver’s seat.
“What do you want?” Simon asked, desperately.
“This,” Vale said and she pulled the trigger.
As the gun went off, Elizabeth screamed and her heart leapt into her throat.
Out of the window, Elizabeth could see the bullet had hit Simon in the chest. Shocked, he stumbled back from the blow, but there was no room, nowhere to go. He lost his balance against the balustrade and fell backward off the bridge, and plummeted into the night.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
ELIZABETH SCREAMED, BUT THE sound was hoarse and muffled by the gag stuffed into her mouth. She tried to push her way forward out of the cab, but Vale shoved her back and leveled the small double-barrel derringer at her.
“I have one more bullet,” she said.
Elizabeth didn’t care. Simon was dead. What did it matter?
And then a little voice inside her head called to her. No, he wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be dead. He would find a way, she told herself. It’s what they did. She had to believe.
The carriage pulled away and Elizabeth moved back in her seat as far as her bound hands would let her. She had to stay alive. She had to stay smart. Simon would need her and she wouldn’t let him down.
Vale smirked. “That’s a good girl.”
She reached into a small doctor’s bag and took out a syringe.
Elizabeth cringed back and Vale shook her head.
“Don’t worry. It’s just a little something to calm your nerves.”
Elizabeth doubted that and kicked at Vale, nearly knocking the syringe from her hand. But Vale was stronger than she looked and had the advantage of not being hog-tied. She pinned Elizabeth back into her seat.
Elizabeth felt the sting of the needle piercing her skin and stopped struggling. She tried to say something, but whatever was in the needle was already working on her. Her head began to swim and her eyes droop.
“That’s it,” Elizabeth heard as she started to slip away. “Just close your eyes. It’ll all be over soon.”
~~~
He was cold. So damned cold his mind was numb from it. And tired. All he wanted to do was sleep. To let go and sleep. With Elizabeth.
Elizabeth.
It was deep and dark where he was, but the thought of her pulled him up. Finally, he took a gasping breath and choked on a mouthful of water. He lifted his head and spit out the fetid water.
He was in the river. And, he realized, looking around him, moving downstream quickly. With all the strength left in his body he started to swim. His shoulder screamed in protest and his ribs ached. He vaguely remembered being shot. And falling. And Elizabeth.
He saw the silhouette of the bridge disappearing behind him and the wharves on the shore slipping past. In the distance he could see the construction for the Tower Bridge. How far had he drifted? His mind couldn’t make sense of it. He must have blacked out at some point. It didn’t matter, he told himself. He had to get to shore. He had to get to Elizabeth.
He swam and swam, but the current carried him away. He dug in harder, ignoring the searing pain in his side and shoulder. Slowly, he made progress. It was small, but it was something. He could just make out the muddy shore near the wharves. He swam harder and harder and the world grew darker and darker with every stroke. Until, finally, everything went completely black.
~~~
Elizabeth’s head throbbed and her tongue was thick and coated. She tried to swallow, but couldn’t, her mouth too dry. She opened her eyes and the bright light that shot into them was so painful, she closed them again immediately. More cautious now, she opened them, and the light dulled, but the world around her wasn’t right. It blurred along the edges, every image smeared slightly.
She blinked a few times and tried to focus, but her mind was just as blurry. Vaguely she remembered what had happened. She’d been drugged and—
“Simon,” she said in a coarse voice as she tried to sit up. He’d been shot and she had to get to him. There was still time, there had to be, but she had to hurry.
Part of her body listened to her, but the rest ignored her, and all she could manage to do was roll her head to the side. It ached and she lifted a hand to it, but her arm wouldn’t move.
She looked down at it. It stretched out impossibly far along the bed. She was lucid enough to see that she was bound. It wasn’t with the ropes, but leather cuffs attached to a bed.
She rolled her head to the other side and tried to concentrate. The walls and the floor were white tile and the room was empty except for a metal tray and her bed. Was she in the hospital? Why would Vale take her there?
Elizabeth coughed and her head felt like it was going to snap off her neck. She used the pain to focus, to center herself. She was still groggy, but the blurriness was slowly fading.
As the fog in her mind began to thin, she realized that her room wasn’t just a room, but a cell. There were iron bars on the one small window and a heavy metal door. The bright light that had assaulted her earlier was a dim gas lamp and it flickered high above her.
She looked again down at her wrist and tried to wriggle it free from its bond, but it was no use and she laid her head back down. A chill ran through her and she realized the layers of clothing she’d been wearing were gone. All she had on now was a thin white cotton shift. Even her feet were bare.
Then she heard a scream. A terrifying, soul-wrenching scream. It echoed down the hallway. Another, lower in pitch, followed and then another and another, like a pack of animals calling out, a chorus of screams came.
Elizabeth closed her eyes. She tried to shut them out, but they kept on. Kept on screaming.
Finally, she heard someone yell. A deep, male voice, and the cries stopped. And she shivered in the silence.
A few moments later, she heard metal on metal, a key going into a lock. She lifted her head and watched the door open. Katherine Vale stepped inside.
A familiar, stout man wearing a white lab coat and holding a clipboard walked in with her and closed the heavy door to a long corridor behind him. Blackwood. Elizabeth’s shock turned to horror and she knew. She knew she wasn’t in just any hospital.
She was in Bedlam.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
SIMON SLOWLY OPENED HIS eyes. The world around him was murky and he was so cold, so tired, so willing to close his eyes again and embrace the peace that the nothingness offered.
“Please, sir,” a small voice said and it tugged Simon back up through the haze.
A small, dirty face looked down at him with big round eyes. A boy. He knew his name, but couldn’t find it. His mind was swampy and slow.
But one
constant, one solid thing remained—Elizabeth.
Simon tried to sit up, but the boy protested.
“You should stay down,” he said.
Simon shook his head and instantly regretted it. The world swirled around him and he nearly collapsed back onto the ground. The hard ground.
Just a moment to rest, he thought. He needed a moment.
Slowly, he lay back down and turned his head. The river rolled past. Small boats and large floated along the surface like thoughts he could not grasp. And the darkness came again.
When consciousness came the second time, Simon’s mind was sharper, but his body ached even more.
Alfie, that was the boy’s name, looked down at him with big, worried eyes.
“I thought you was dead,” he said.
“Not yet,” Simon said, and then coughed. More river water worked its way up and he turned his head to spit it out. The sun was just beginning to rise.
“What time is it?”
The boy shrugged.
Simon had to get to Elizabeth. Vale had taken her God only knew where. He swallowed down the urge to vomit and slowly sat up.
Every part of his body ached. His head throbbed, his shoulder was stiff, and his ribs protested every breath he took. He tried to stand, but his head spun. He had to get moving, had to start looking, but his body was not ready to move quite yet.
“Where are we?” he asked looking around.
Alfie looked up from the muddy shore toward the wharf above them that was busy with men loading and unloading. “Stanton’s.”
One of the men looked down at them as he and another lifted a heavy crate. But he turned away and continued with his work. Perhaps a near dead man on the shore was a common occurrence here.
“How did I—”
“Me brother and I fished ya out,” Alfie said with profound pride. “Biggest thing I ever caught.”
A Rip in Time (Out of Time #7) Page 24
