by L G Rollins
They couldn’t do that. They couldn’t just forbid her from continuing. It would be like forbidding her from thinking, or breathing, or her heart from beating. She had leads. She knew where to go next and what to research. It may seem unsafe now, but that was because they didn’t understand about copper.
“But,” Elise tried, her own voice shaking despite her best efforts. “I know now why Doctor . . .” What had his name been? Her brainbox stalled and she couldn’t remember. “Why it couldn’t be reproduced. I know how to fix—”
Makepiece held up a hand. “We will look into it in the future. But for now, we own the rights. Just as we own the rights to your theories on moonlight, water, and werewolf blood. You are not to continue along any of those lines of thought until this committee sanctions such actions.
This was insane. The whole committee was bloody insane. “You can’t own a theory.”
“We owned the money you used. As financial backer, and the Queen’s appointed governing body of all scientific advancements, we have deemed such experiments unsafe. Do not make us prove we have the authority to make such demands.”
Elise’s mouth shut with a snap. Frustration at being unable to move forward on what she was passionate about filled her until her chest ached at the pressure and her jaw hurt from being clamped tight.
They were right. If she went against the committee, she would be socially crushed, ostracized from all her resources at best. Thrown into jail at worse. Her thoughts jumped momentarily to the night she spent in a cell in the Gearhound. The coldness and despair she’d felt then enveloped her once more. She had been so determined to return on time and present; to prove her research had merit.
Badgering Nathaniel for his submarine; sailing for weeks on end, hardly ever sleeping; keeping William’s secret only to have that blow up in her face; being incarcerated, her life and the life of those she cared deeply about threatened . . .
It was all pointless after all.
The committee had made their decision before she ever set foot back on English soil. Without evidence or the decency to hear her out, they had decided against her. They had chosen to thwart her career and future, well before she saw the sun rise over London.
“Again, we thank you,” Doctor Burnfure said. “And we are very happy to see you have returned home safe.” She struggled to her feet, gave Elise a small nod, and turned to leave. The various members also silently stood, making their ways to the large doors.
That was it. It would be at least two years before the committee would even hear her petition for further research funds. What was she supposed to do between now and then? How many people would suffer from werewolf attacks? How many people might she have helped if only given the opportunity?
And now. Now it was all over.
Elise stared down at the chestnut wood beneath her hands. What would she do? There was no future for her research here in England so long as the committee refused their support. She could sail to Spain. Perhaps France. Surely Addie had some connections that might prove useful. Her friend had come to England to further connections—it had been a long battle but one she was winning. Elise could do the same.
Her own footfalls echoed up her spine as Elise moved toward the open doors. It would take years before she was back in a position to focus solely on science. Those years would no doubt be long and hard. What a waste. There were people who needed her help now—and many of them would not be permitted to live that long.
Addie had already stepped out. Elise could hear her heated voice berating some committee member or another, using more French than English. Lord Chauncey was standing just inside the room, arguing with Doctor Sackville. It was just like him to tackle the hardest part of a problem head on. No doubt, the sweet old man believed if he could convince Sackville to further support Elise, the rest of the committee would fall in line behind him.
Two men, with derby hats pulled low, entered the room. There must be another meeting after this one. She glanced at the arguing Chauncey and Sackville. They should all leave and move out of the way. Elise walked over to Lord Chauncey. It brought her some warmth that he and Addie were both willing to go toe-to-toe with anyone who wanted to stop her. And where was Nathaniel? He’s said he’d be here, and Elise had sincerely hoped he would. Melissa must have been having a much harder time letting him leave than he’d anticipated.
No doubt, if he were here, he’d be standing up for her, too. But it was futile at this point. The committee wasn’t exaggerating when they said they had the Queen’s ear and full backing.
It was time they all went home.
The large doors shut with a thud. The soft high-pitched click of a lock followed. The sound sent a piercing shiver down her spine. The two men in hats turned toward her. Elise’s breath froze in her chest. Mr. Antsy stood by the locked doors. William Cunningham was several strides closer, a large pistol pointed directly at her.
lise froze.
William? Here?
Her thudding heart beat pounded against her ears. Elise couldn’t tear her gaze away from him, or the gun in his hand. Behind her, Lord Chauncey and Sackville’s arguing voices came to an abrupt halt.
“What is the meaning of this?” Sackville took a half step forward. “I demand to know—”
William swung the pistol over and let off a single shot. It cracked like thunder. Sackville grunted and collapsed. A dark stain spread across his shoulder. What was William doing shooting random people? Had he gone mad? Lord Chauncey wrapped his arms around the large man and began hauling him backward. William shot again. Lord Chauncey grabbed his thigh and both men tumbled to the ground.
The sight of Lord Chauncey bleeding brought an icy realization dripping down her chest. She dropped to the floor and crawled toward the large chestnut table. She needed to get behind something. Anything. Preferably something that would stop a bullet. William was here to kill them all. He would make good on his threat. A vise-like grip wrapped around her arm, yanking her back up to her feet.
William’s scornful expression hovered directly above her. The cold tip of a gun barrel pressed against the underside of her chin. Tendrils of smoke, heavy with the scent of gunpowder, trailed up either side of her face.
“No screaming, understand?” Fear clawed down her throat as he leered yet closer. “Not that it would help. With all the hubbub outside, no one would hear you.”
Elise searched the room for anything she could use as a weapon. She had to get away from him. William dragged her toward the front of the room. She dropped all her weight against his hold on her, dragging her heels. But she was no physical match for William. He didn’t so much as slow or even grunt at her refusal.
He hauled her to the head of the table and pushed her toward it. The wooden edge bit into her hip, but Elise didn’t flinch. Years of pretending emotionlessness rushed to her like a well worn coat. If ever there was a time to appear unaffected, it was now. Elise would not cower before William. She would not give him the honor of seeing her panic.
William took hold of Elise’s arm, twisting it hard behind her back, and spun her around until she faced the room has she had when addressing the committee. Lord Chauncey and Sackville were huddled under another, much smaller, table beside the large doors. Antsy had a gun pointed their direction, but neither Chauncey nor Sackville were doing anything more than growing paler by the minute. At least their eyes were open. Antsy remained at the back of the room, watching the two elderly men. Was there a chance, if she occupied William, that they could escape?
William’s chin rested atop her shoulder. “This is where you expected your grand finale to take place, correct?” His breath against her ear brought with it a hot and sticky terror. “Where you planned to ruin my life and my family’s legacy by telling my secret?” He twisted her arm further. Sharp pain shot through her shoulder.
She blinked through the tears and kept her voice even. “I never told anyone.”
“The others knew.”
Truly? He was bla
ming her for this as well? Why not, he blamed her for every flaw in his life. Her words here short and forced as she pressed them out through her clenched jaw. “They figured it out for themselves.”
“Liar!” William threw her to the side. She collided with the wall and the thunk of her head meeting the bricks echoed around her as white spots filled the room. Elise couldn’t feel her legs or arms, couldn’t make them move. She slid down the wall.
*****
A bang came from inside the locked Bridgeside Hall.
Nathaniel’s eyes flew open. A gunshot, it had to be. Nothing else made a sound that burst through the air with that much ferocity. He rolled onto his side and pushed up into a sitting position.
His head swam and he teetered back and forth. Clenching his jaw tight, he put first one foot then the other under him and tried to stand.
A second shot ripped through the air. Was he already too late? Was Elise laying in her own blood, life ebbing out of her?
Nathaniel hurried as quick as his shaking legs would allow out to the front of the building.
People milled around him, ignorant of the sound, no doubt writing the noise off as a motorcar backfiring out on the street.
He grabbed the arm of a man strolling by. “Get a medic and the authorities here, immediately.” He spoke with years of being a captain behind his voice—undeniable decisiveness and gravity in his order.
He didn’t wait to see the man respond, but hurried up the stairs to the large doors. Grabbing hold of the handle he tried to open it slowly. If he tried to force the doors open, he’d only alert those inside of his presence and give Cunningham time to react.
The doors didn’t so much as open the width of a finger. They must be locked.
Nathaniel looked up at the imposing building. He needed to slip inside, unnoticed. He prayed there was still time.
Nathaniel hurried back around to the side of the building, searching for any other way in. There were no windows near the ground, but several lined the top of the high-roofed room. Nathaniel tore off his cumbersome jacket, and in his shirtsleeves and vest placed his hands against the wall. The mortar was old and had crumbled away here and there between the bricks. It bit his finger tips and tore into his palms, but he had ample purchase.
Nathaniel climbed until he peered up and over the edge of an open window. At the back of the room, near the large doors, legs stuck out from under a small table. Two men were apparently crouched underneath. Another man stood a single pace away, gun trained on their location, the brim of his hat hiding his face. It was a good thing Nathaniel hadn’t tried forcing the door. The man standing there would most certainly have heard him and most likely shot him right through the wood.
Nathaniel spotted Elise at the head of a long table, Cunningham directly behind her. Pulse hammering against his ears, Nathaniel risked lifting himself higher for a better look. Cunningham screamed and threw Elise against the wall directly below him. Nathaniel climbed fully onto the ledge, pulled his pistol out of its holster, and aimed. Cunningham was beside Elise again. Any bullet he let fly could just as easily hit Elise in the head.
Curse the gears above, he couldn’t get a clear shot.
He sighted down his barrel, keeping his cross-hairs on Cunningham. But Elise’s head and shoulder kept blocking his aim. Nathaniel remained ready, and waiting. He only needed Cunningham to take half a step back.
illiam’s hand wrapped around Elise’s throat. She stared into his dark eyes, the loathing rage swirled behind his gaze, blocking out anything that remained of her childhood friend. He squeezed hard, blocking all breath, and dragged her up.
She grabbed at his hand. Air. Elise tried to pull away as a frenzied panic enveloped her.
She needed air.
He pinned her against the wall. The cold, hard bricks behind her juxtaposed sharply against the heat of his sweating body as he pressed up against her. “Did you enjoy your little victory in here today? Have you had enough time to revel in your success?”
Blackness crawled across the outer edges of her vision, darkening all she could see. Her hands moved frantically, tugging at William’s grasp around her throat. All she could see now were his eyes and the hatred there. Her fingers wrapped around his thumb and yanked it backwards. With a yelp, William snatched his hand away, though he didn’t back up.
Breath filled her lungs and she blinked against the spots in her vision.
William raised the gun just as quickly. The barrel stuck against her stomach. “Hands up. Try something like that again and your death will be far more painful.”
Elise lifted her hands up, palms out, in submission, but didn’t shudder. “They didn’t grant me any more funding.” Stalling seemed to be her only option left. That and refusing to show fear. Though stalling for what, she had no idea.
He scowled. “What are you talking about?”
The smell of blood was filling the room, threatening to gag her. She wasn’t sure what condition Lord Chauncey and Sackville were in, but she was certain they wouldn’t be able to help her. Hopefully, they were still under the table by the door. She didn’t dare look away from William right now to ascertain exactly where they were or how they were faring.
Gears above, if anything happened to Lord Chauncey at William’s hand, she would personally see him hang.
“The committee.” Her voice was as calm and even as though they were speaking with one another at a dinner party. Swallow that, William. She wouldn’t be trembling in front of him today. “They’re investing in flying jackets now. My research has been deemed unsafe”—his gun trained on her was an ironic confirmation of the committee’s view—“and denied.”
A wicked grin spread across William’s face. “You mean you did all that—the submarine, finding werewolves for months on end, getting them to risk their very lives—and you don’t have a deuced half-pence to show for it?”
He laughed, loud and coarse. “I’m away for two weeks, and you manage to ruin your entire career. Oh, Elise,” he stepped close enough to run a finger down her neck and across her collar bone. Sharp stabs of horror trailed along where he touched her. “You should have never turned me down.”
At his touch, she pursed her lips and lifted her chin still higher. Elise would not let him know how she shook deep inside.
From the back of the room came the sound of fabric rustling, shifting. William’s head snapped to the two men under the small table. Elise took the opportunity to check as well. She could see Sackville slumped unnaturally against Chauncey’s shoulder, his face taut with pain. Chauncey himself had a blood-covered hand pressing against his thigh, but at least they were both still conscious. She had to find a way to get them all out of here. Her brainbox whirled as she searched the room for something, anything, she could use as a weapon.
“Do you want to know why I didn’t kill them both to begin with?” William drawled the words out long and slow. Why was he so insistent on talking to her? Oh, if only he would shut his mouth and let her think. “I could have,” William continued. “It’s just as easy to shoot a man in the leg as it is in the head.”
If this was going to turn from murder into a sick game, she most certainly would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her squirm. She put on her toughest, most professional face and stared William down.
“Antsy,” William called without looking away from Elise. “Come here.” He obeyed, eyes staying trained on the two under the small table.
“You see,” William addressed her once more. “Antsy here will do the killing for me.”
Antsy paused mid-stride, half an arm’s length from them. His jaw dropped. “You said you’d do the killing. If I kill those two gentlemen I’ll hang, I will.” His eyes jumped from William to Elise and back. “I didn’t come here to die. I only wanted justice.”
William slipped his left hand into his jacket pocket. Elise watched him closely. Antsy was a fool to listen to William. One should never follow a mad-man on his quest for vengeance.
Antsy
ignored William rummaging in his pocket and instead shook a finger at William as he spoke. “You said you would do all the killing. I’m just here to help you get away—”
William’s hand shot out and stabbed a long syringe into Antsy’s arm. Elise struggled against her instinct to jump at the sudden attack.
Antsy jerked back. “What the blazes?” A clear liquid glistened down his arm. “What was that?” Antsy demanded.
William held up the syringe in the light. It was still half full. Elise knew instantly what it contained. The clear liquid, with just a hint of yellow. He hadn’t brought Antsy along to help him get away as William claimed. A new fear traced icy fingers across each rib in her chest. There was no other explanation; William was truly mad.
William asked, casual and lofty. “How much BLU Elixir is necessary to make a werewolf shift?”
Antsy’s eyes grew wide. Panicky fear traced deep lines across his face. With a loud intake of breath, he collapsed to his knees and buckled over.
William shrugged. “I believe that was enough.” He tossed the syringe onto the floor. It hit with a clink and rolled to a stop beside a chair. Antsy thrashed about the floor, screaming, arms wrapped around his torso.
Elise closed her eyes to the scene; she’d seen enough shifts to know what came next. The horrendous pain, the bone splitting agony. Sounds of Antsy writhing on the ground, wailing at the shift filled her ears and left her head swimming. She pressed a hand flat against the cold wall behind her. Elise focused on keeping her breath steady, she could not risk passing out from hyperventilation.
“I’ve never seen this happen to someone else.” William’s tone was pure amusement, and it churned Elise’s stomach. “Is this why you chose to study werewolves? To watch us writhe in agony?”
She opened her eyes long enough to glare back. “You’re sick.”
William only laughed. The harsh sound collided with Antsy’s screams. “Sick, am I? Well, you’re the doctor, you should know.”
Antsy’s cries faded away. The deep sound of heavy panting was all that was left. Elise glanced his way. His tattered clothes were shredded around the large form of a wolf. He lay there, his chest expanding to pull in large gulps of air. But, else wise, not a single strand of fur moved.
