A Rip in Time (Out of Time #7)

by Monique Martin

  He owed his life to them. “Thank you,” he said, knowing it was poor payment for what they’d done. How the two small boys had managed to get him to shore, he couldn’t imagine.

  “Where’s your brother?”

  “He’s gone to look for your friend. He’s been gone hours,” Alfie said, sounding worried.

  “My friend? Do you mean my wife?”

  “I think he means me,” Victor said as he appeared on the muddy shore, young Freddie running along side.

  Simon hated to admit it, but he was very glad to see Victor. He needed the man’s help. Now.

  “Elizabeth—” Simon started.

  Victor nodded. “Freddie told me what happened.” He looked down at Simon. “He said you were shot.”

  Simon frowned. He’d almost forgotten about that. “I was,” he said and then looked down at his chest, expecting to see blood.

  He patted his chest with his hand and felt the hole in his jacket and something beneath it.

  He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his journal. Embedded in the pages, mushroomed from the impact was a small caliber bullet. Beneath it, the ink smeared but still legible were the words he’d written a lifetime ago: She loves me.

  He felt a lump form in his throat and swallowed it down.

  Victor shook his head in disbelief. “You have an angel on your shoulder, Cross.”

  “Let’s hope he’s got one more miracle in him,” Simon said.

  “Can you stand?”

  Simon wasn’t sure, but nodded. With Victor’s help he managed it. He looked up into the sky, squinting against the light. It had to be past noon.

  “Do you know where she is?”

  “Roderick was there,” Simon said.

  “Blackwood’s man?”

  Simon nodded.

  “What’s Blackwood’s connection? Do you know where he lives?” Victor said.

  Simon straightened his back and took a deep breath. Pain shot through him and he grunted, but he could deal with it. He would have to.

  Victor sensed that he was testing himself, testing his body.

  “You are in no condition to do this. Tell me where to go.”

  Simon looked at him, one man to another. “If it were your wife…”

  Victor looked like he was about to argue, but closed his mouth. Instead he shook his head. “All right. But we only have a few hours.”

  Simon frowned, confused. “A few hours?”

  He looked around and realized that it had gotten darker, not lighter. The sun he’d seen rising had actually been setting. He’d lost nearly an entire day.

  “It all happens tonight. We cannot afford to miss it. It will be Vale’s best opportunity to kill Graham. And that must not happen, no matter the cost.”

  And that cost would be Elizabeth’s life. “You do what you have to,” Simon said, willing to risk the fate of the world. “I’m going to find my wife.”

  ~~~

  “What’s going on?”

  That’s what Elizabeth had intended on saying, had tried to say, but all that had come out was mumbled gibberish. She tried again, but her mouth wouldn’t form the words.

  “Here’s our patient,” Vale said as she smiled down at Elizabeth.

  Blackwood looked up from his chart and arched an eyebrow. “Your cousin?”

  Vale shrugged. “As good as any lie.”

  She looked back at Elizabeth with mock pity. “Poor woman is lost to us. Simply gone mad. And you, Doctor,” she added turning back to Blackwood, “are our only hope.”

  Blackwood’s eyes narrowed. “We’re moving too quickly. Drawing too much attention—”

  Moving where? Elizabeth thought.

  “We have an agreement, Doctor,” Vale said coolly and then smiled sweetly. “You have a problem that I can solve and I have one you can solve. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

  “You’re blackmailing me,” he said.

  She shrugged again. “Incentive for you to hold up your end of the bargain. I will take care of Miss Stride, and you will take care of her.”

  Vale looked down at Elizabeth as though she were preparing to savor a special meal.

  Elizabeth shuddered involuntarily and Vale’s smile grew.

  Somehow, Vale had discovered Stride’s blackmailing plan and stepped in to take over. The Ripper would kill Stride tonight and Vale would get the credit. That was sick enough, but it was wondering what the doctor was going to offer Vale in return that made Elizabeth’s stomach ache.

  “It hasn’t been easy to meet your timeline,” the doctor said with a frown.

  “But you have?”

  Blackwood looked down at Elizabeth. “It’s unusual, but we’re scheduled for this evening.”

  Vale’s smile broadened. “Don’t fret, doctor. You’re going to be famous.”

  She looked back down at Elizabeth. “The world’s first lobotomy.”

  Elizabeth felt a surge of honest to goodness panic. A lobotomy? She struggled more, but she could barely move. She tried again to cry out for help, but all that came out was a strangled sort of moan.

  “Psychosurgery,” Blackwood corrected her. “It’s risky, untried.”

  “Do your best not to kill her,” Vale said. “I’d rather she was simply…hollowed out. But if your hand slips…”

  Elizabeth’s heart raced and she struggled against the cuffs that held her down.

  “She’s becoming agitated,” the doctor said needlessly.

  “Is she?” Vale said, clearly enjoying every minute of her pain.

  Blackwood looked down at the chart. “I’ll make sure she’s given more morphine.”

  Vale shook her head. “No. I want her to feel this. To know her world is slipping away.”

  Elizabeth shuddered and swallowed hard. Dear God. This woman was evil.

  The doctor looked at her with something close to fear in his eyes. “A local anesthetic then.”

  “Yes, that sounds perfect,” Vale said, clearly picturing the horror in her mind’s eye and relishing in it.

  After a moment, she turned back to the doctor. “I’m going to stay with her for a few minutes.”

  It was a dismissal, and the doctor cast one last look at Elizabeth. She tried to plead with him with her eyes, hoping there was some spark of humanity left in him, but he looked away and then closed the heavy metal door behind as he left.

  Katherine Vale smiled and sighed a sigh of pure delight. “Oh, how the tables have turned, haven’t they? Your husband is dead, and you’re about to wish you were.”

  Elizabeth wrists strained against the restraints so hard that her hands shook.

  Vale practically purred. “I know who you are, you see. What you’ve done. And now it’ll be your turn here, not mine. I’m doing you a favor really,” she added, touching Elizabeth’s temple, “with this. You won’t even know who you are once they’re finished. You won’t know how awful and empty your life is.”

  Elizabeth fought the tears that welled in her eyes. She would not give this witch the satisfaction of seeing them.

  Vale tugged needlessly on the edges of her kid gloves and walked around the edge of the room, running her hand along the stones. “This will be your whole world,” she said. “These four walls. Twelve years, I would have spent here. In this very room.”

  Vale stopped in the corner and lingered there for a moment before continuing. “But now, you’ll be the one to hear the screams at night, wondering when they’ll stop.”

  She walked back over to Elizabeth and looked down at her. “Until finally, you realize that you’re the one screaming.”

  Elizabeth struggled against her bonds, fought back the tears and wished this woman to Hell.

  Vale knocked on the door. A moment later an orderly opened it and with one last cruel smile Vale said, “Not all stories can have a happy ending now, can they?”

  Chapter Thirty

  CROSS BANGED HIS FIST against the door. “Blackwood!”

  People walking down the
street turned to look at the disturbance. Victor sighed. He was a fool to be here. Cross could barely stand and would surely waste time being noble getting the information he needed. He was too soft.

  And at this rate, they would surely get themselves arrested for their troubles, and that Victor could not afford.

  “Cross—”

  The door to the doctor’s townhouse opened and a butler scowled at them both. “Please sir, some—”

  Cross pushed him back into the residence and scanned the entry way. “Where’s Blackwood?”

  The butler straightened his slightly askew tie and stiffened his back in defiance. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to—”

  Cross grabbed the man by the lapels and shoved him against the wall. “Where is he?”

  Perhaps, he would not waste time after all, Victor thought.

  “I’m afraid—”

  “What’s going on here?” Roderick said as he appeared at he top of the stairs.

  Cross tossed the butler aside and strode to the bottom of the stairs.

  Roderick stopped mid-step and raised a surprised eyebrow, clearly surprised at seeing a man he thought dead.

  “Where did you take her?” Simon said, his breath coming in short bursts now. His hand gripped the newel post for balance.

  Roderick looked to the butler and the two maids who’d come curiously into the foyer and jerked his head to the side, indicating they should go.

  Cross caught his breath painfully, his ribs were probably broken and glared at Roderick. “Where’s Elizabeth?”

  The valet was unimpressed, more the fool he, and came down the stairs. Victor stood aside and let Cross do what he must.

  Roderick stopped two stairs above Cross and regarded him coolly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Cross lunged forward, catching Roderick off guard, grabbing him by the coat and throwing him to the bottom of the stairs. Impressive.

  The valet crashed into a coatrack that fell down on top of him. Cross kicked it away as he stepped forward and loomed over the man. “Where…” he said, barely able to find a breath, “is she?”

  Roderick smirked up at him.

  Cross leaned down and pulled him up, groaning loudly as he did. Roderick fought back, but Cross found strength somewhere and held on. He hit him twice, knocking the man back against the wall.

  “She’s gone by now,” Roderick said with another smirk through the blood that trickled down from his nose.

  It was a mistake.

  Cross punched him once in the gut, and then again before pressing his forearm into the man’s throat, slowly choking him. “Where?”

  Victor stepped forward then and pulled out his knife. He pressed it to Roderick’s neck, just above Cross’s arm.

  “No more games. Where is she?” Victor demanded.

  But Roderick held firm. He looked at them defiantly. Victor knew the type, he was not going to talk. They could torture him and he would not betray his master.

  They were wasting time here. He put his knife away and Cross glared at him, before pressing so hard against the man’s neck, his face started to turn purple.

  “Kill him or don’t, we are wasting time.”

  Cross hesitated for a moment, seeing the truth in what Victor said. He looked back at Roderick, barely conscious now, and let him slip from his hands. The valet slid to the floor.

  Cross stood lost, staring down at him.

  “Bethlam,” a soft voice said behind them.

  They both turned to see a young maid, who couldn’t have been more than fifteen, standing just inside the hall. She looked nervously at Roderick and then back to Cross. “I overheard something the other day and I think that’s where they went.”

  “Thank you,” Cross said, his voice hoarse with effort and emotion.

  The girl smiled and looked down again at Roderick. She would clearly pay for betraying him.

  Victor strode over to her, dug into his pockets. He handed her all the money he had left. “Get as far away from here as you can.”

  She looked down at the coins, grateful, and nodded quickly.

  Victor walked back over to Cross who was already heading for the door. Victor grabbed his arm.

  “Let go of me,” Cross bit out.

  “If she’s there, we can’t just walk into Bedlam and take her out.”

  Cross glared at him again, but Victor could see he knew that he was right. Iron bars, guards and dozens of people stood in their way.

  “We’re going to need help. Any ideas?”

  Cross grimaced as he straightened his back. “Perhaps,” he said. “Just one.”

  ~~~

  The metal wheels of the gurney squeaked as Elizabeth was rolled down the long corridor and into the surgery. Her eyes were beginning to focus more, and she could see that it was a teaching amphitheater. A handful of curious onlookers dotted the gallery. She couldn’t believe Blackwood was really going to go through with this. But he was. He wasn’t the Ripper, but he was just as much a monster.

  She tried to call out for help, but the words still wouldn’t come. Her mind, though, was sharper, and her voice couldn’t be far behind. If she could just catch the eye of someone, anyone, surely they’d see the truth.

  Desperately, she tried to get their attention, but the handful of doctors in the theater chatted busily amongst themselves, only giving her the barest glance as she was wheeled in.

  She turned her head and saw a tray with scissors, shaving cream and a straight edge razor and she felt another wave of panic. They were going to shave her head and dig out her brain. She tried to breathe, tried to calm herself, but when she saw the tray next to it, she nearly cried out. On it were what could only be described as instruments of torture—a long metal hook, spike, hammer and hand drill.

  A nurse came over and peeled back her eyelids. Elizabeth knew this might be her last chance.

  “P-please,” she managed to whisper.

  The nurse was surprised and stopped what she was doing.

  Elizabeth’s heart raced and she tried to form more words.

  “Help me.”

  It was barely a whisper, but it was words and Elizabeth’s heart soared.

  The nurse looked at her kindly and gently patted her shoulder. “We’re going to, my dear. We’re going to.”

  “No,” Elizabeth said, and turned to look for anyone else who would listen. She caught sight of a young doctor in the front row. “Please help me.”

  He couldn’t hear her, but he was watching her, he seemed to understand. His face grew concerned and he turned to his colleague and said something Elizabeth couldn’t hear.

  “Please help me,” she said again.

  “I don’t think that’s right,” the young doctor said. “Your patient is lucid, Doctor.”

  Blackwood came over to the table and stared down at her. His eyes betrayed a momentary flash of fear, but she could see him snuff it out, leaving them cold and dull.

  “Please,” Elizabeth whispered.

  She knew he’d heard her, but he turned to the gallery.

  “It is an involuntary action, I assure you,” he said, dismissing the young doctor’s concern. “Administer more chloroform, nurse.”

  A nurse nodded obediently and moved to the table.

  “Please don’t do this,” Elizabeth managed to say just before the wire mask was placed over her face, muffling any more words.

  A cloth was placed over the mask and Elizabeth shook her head, trying to shake it loose.

  “Hold her,” the nurse ordered and strong hands gripped the sides of Elizabeth’s head.

  She could see the dropper filled with chloroform being handed to the nurse. Elizabeth screamed, but the sound was muffled by the mask and even if they’d heard it, no one cared.

  ~~~

  “Open the damned door,” Simon said as he tugged impatiently on the locked metal door that led from the main entrance of Bethlam hospital to where the patients were, where Elizabeth was.
>
  The woman behind the desk moved to stop him, pulling up short at the anger in his face. “Sir, I’m going to call security, if you—”

  “Open the damned door.”

  George Roxbury had finally caught up with him. Once they’d reached hospital, Simon had run up the front steps and into the lobby. His entire body ached, but he didn’t care. Elizabeth was here. Somewhere.

  Next to him, Victor waited quietly like a coiled spring.

  “I’m afraid—” she started.

  “Don’t be afraid, just open the door,” Roxbury said, his demeanor brooking no arguments.

  Despite that, the nurse did just that. “I can’t just—”

  “Do you know who I am?”

  “Sir George?” a man said, who’d come from a nearby office to see what the fuss was about.

  “Yes,” George said curtly. He pointed to Simon. “This man’s wife is being held here against her will.”

  “Impossible,” the man said. “We would never—”

  “You will never do anything again,” George said, showing more menace than Simon thought him capable of, “if you don’t open that door.”

  The man blanched at the threat.

  George stood a little straighter. “And you’ll never get another red cent from me or anyone I know.”

  That spurred the little man into action and he waved to the nurse. “Open it.”

  The nurse was clearly shocked, but she did what she was told and opened a drawer, pulling out a large key ring with half a dozen iron skeleton keys on it.

  “She was brought in earlier today by a woman,” Victor said. “Where would she be?”

  “Today?” the man said. “That must be Miss Vale’s cousin.”

  “Where?” Victor demanded.

  “Surgery,” the man said, as if they should have known.

  “Dear God,” Simon said, fear of what that could mean shot through him.

  The nurse walked over to the door with the keys.

  “Quickly,” he urged her. He felt sick. He couldn’t be too late. He wouldn’t.

  “What in Heaven’s name is going on here?” George said. “If she’s harmed…”

  “Which way?” Victor asked.

  “End of the first corridor on the right.”