The Diabolical Miss Hyde

by Viola Carr

  “Will, stay back,” Eliza warned. “Put that down, whatever it is.”

  Will obeyed. His equipment clattered into a pile on the floor.

  Lafayette backed away from Todd, sword leveled. “It’s getting awfully crowded in here, Doctor. Make it fast.”

  Fairfax frowned. “Eliza, are you quite well? You look fevered. What’s this machine you’re speaking of?”

  “Victor’s animal electricity machine,” she insisted. “The one that brought Madeleine Jekyll back to life.”

  Mr. Todd giggled. “Well done, my sweet. I knew you’d see the light. Do you recognize that scent, lapdog? Very like your own, eh?”

  “Shut up,” ordered Lafayette, but his voice was oddly strained.

  Fairfax cleared his throat. “Madam,” he said mildly, as if calming a violent patient, “such a vile contraption no longer exists. Your father’s experiments are over. I know this is hard for you to accept, and heaven knows that idiot Finch isn’t helping matters—”

  “Show her the machine, Mr. Fairfax.”

  The sound of Will’s voice snapped Eliza’s head around.

  He was walking towards Fairfax. Calm, unthreatening, one hand forward. “Come, sir, no point carrying on. She knows. Show her the machine.”

  Fairfax laughed. Hollow laughter, like a man who’d lost his way. “Sinclair, have you finally gone out of your mind? The only machines I possess are right here. You know that. Electroshock and sensory pressure. Look.” And he pointed at the rack of aetheric cells, so lately Mr. Todd’s torment.

  “The machine, Sir Jedediah,” Will repeated, hypnotic. He moved another step closer, stormlight tarnishing his hair with copper. “In the secret laboratory, hidden in the dome where the lightning will strike. Where the bodies are on ice, and everything’s prepared.”

  Fairfax’s face drained like death.

  Lightning sheeted, directly overhead. Current enlivened the air, sharp like metal on Eliza’s tongue. “It’s ended, Mr. Fairfax,” she called. “No one else need be hurt.”

  Wildly, Fairfax turned from Eliza to William and back. He stuttered, at a loss. His mouth opened and closed. “Eliza—”

  “Don’t dissemble, Fairfax. You know what she’s talking about.” Lightning flung Will’s face into sharp relief, an eerie sketch of shadows and light. And then, he grinned, ghastly. “Oh, wait. That’s right. You don’t.”

  And he swept a burning arc-pistol from his pocket and shot Fairfax in the face.

  THEY FIRST MAKE MAD

  ZZZAP! THE SHOT FLARED, DAZZLING. FAIRFAX’S limbs jerked in the throes of electric fit, and his hair caught fire. His cheeks melted and bubbled. Smoke hissed from his burning clothes, bringing the sweet smell of scorched flesh. He opened his mouth to scream, but before he hit the floor, he was dead.

  Blue static crackled over his corpse, and wisps of smoke curled upwards.

  Eliza froze. Mr. Todd grinned. Lafayette lunged for Will, saber a-flash.

  “Not so fast,” said Will calmly, and fired.

  But the shot fizzled, only a faint flash. The pistol hadn’t had time to recharge. The weak electric fireball hit Lafayette in the chest and he fell, jerking, unconscious. A lick of flame crept into his hair and blew out.

  And Will turned to her.

  Eliza fought for her wits. Lizzie, come back. Where are you?

  Well, hell, said Lizzie dryly. Will Sinclair. Never can pick ’em. Shoot the little squeezer.

  Eliza fired.

  Zzzp-crack! But her hand was numb, and the shot missed Will by inches and crackled into the wall behind him. Damn. She clenched her grip tighter. “Get back.”

  “Do you really want to shoot me, Eliza?” Will’s own pistol glowed brighter by the second, recharging. “After all we’ve shared? That upsets me. Truly.”

  “Good question, William!” called Mr. Todd from his bed frame. “Straight to the point.”

  “Shut up!” yelled Will. He paced, up and down, yanking his hair in one fist. Lightning crashed again, and his eyes flared, unnaturally golden. “Do you know what it’s like, Eliza? To have that person in your head? Whispering in your ear? Giving you ideas? Gnawing at your brain, every day, with his questions and his temptations and never a moment’s peace?” He kicked at the equipment on the floor, scattering it with an un-William-like curse.

  “Typical,” muttered Todd. “Blame me for everything. ‘Mr. Todd made me do it!’ Honestly, you’d think me the Devil himself.” But his crafty grin spoke otherwise.

  Eliza searched frantically for courage. No time to waste. Whose pistol would recharge first? “Give up,” she said desperately. “It’s over. Whatever you’ve done, we can . . .”

  “Oh, I don’t think it’s over.” Will smiled, his same old boyish smile, but now it glittered, unhinged. To think she’d ever thought him pleasant-looking. “I’ve only just begun. And I am so pleased you’re here at last. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “Why?” she spat. “Am I the last piece of your abomination? Which part of me will you chop off? Or will you just light up my corpse with electrical fluid and see what happens?”

  Will gaped, incredulous. “Don’t be ridiculous. Self-improvement, Eliza. I want you to be the best you can be. I have all the parts ready. I collected the last one just tonight. This is all for you, my darling.”

  A hissing serpent coiled cold in her belly.

  A ballerina’s legs, talented where Eliza was clumsy. A pickpocket’s skilled hands—and her eyes, too, sharp where Eliza’s were weak.

  “No.” The world telescoped, sucking to a tiny vanishing point. Her voice echoed, faint and far away. “No, you can’t.”

  “Eliza . . .” Mr. Todd, speaking her name, sotto voce. She didn’t turn. Couldn’t move.

  “Eliza, look at me.”

  “Fairfax had it all wrong, you see.” William scratched his hair, which was sprouting longer in patches, a coarse yellow mat. “Completely removing the brain is a mistake. Vital connections are severed. So that’s why I’ll need your entire head. I hope you don’t mind,” he added. “I could have found you a new face, but . . . well, I’m rather fond of the old one.” He blushed. “You’ll be so beautiful at our wedding, my love.”

  “Wedding?” she repeated stupidly.

  “Eliza.” Todd again, calm, insistent. The voice of sanity.

  “We needn’t accept your failings anymore,” said Will earnestly. “You can change. You can be a new person! And I’m going to help you. Now”—he kicked up the fallen saber on the toe of his boot, flicked it into his hand, and jabbed the point into unconscious Lafayette’s throat—“will I drop my pistol, do you think? Or should you?”

  Lizzie cursed, and Eliza fought to steady her aim. “Let him go, or I swear—”

  “You know what happens if you fire. My muscles contract. Boiing!” Mockingly, Will faked a spasm, twisting the sword point. Blood trickled down Lafayette’s neck.

  Lizzie yowled, an angry cat. Get away from him, you ugly circus freak! Eliza stumbled a step forwards.

  Will laughed. And when he laughed, the beast sprang alive. His pupils flared, and sharp wolfish teeth glinted at the corners of his mouth. “He’ll be dead before I fall. I had to kill Matthew when he discovered my secret, and Matthew was my friend. Don’t imagine I’ll hesitate now. Or, you can come quietly. Your choice.”

  The impassive, rational part of Eliza whispered deadly sense. This was her chance to be rid of Lafayette. The monster who knew her secret. Who’d seduced Lizzie, made her weak. Not as if it’d be murder. Just let him die, and she’d be safe forever . . .

  Lizzie growled, furious. Don’t you frickin’ dare . . . Eliza shook herself, mortified. Lafayette had lied for her more than once. Put his own life at risk. She couldn’t betray him now.

  “Eliza.” At last, Mr. Todd’s voice broke through Eliza’s trance. Wildly, she glanced around.

  Todd jerked his chin minutely towards Will, and his red lips mouthed two words.

  Trust me.

  Her thou
ghts knotted, wet and woolly. Trust him to do what?

  Stiffly, she uncocked her pistol, hiss-flick. The purple glimmer faded. She tossed it aside. It bounced away.

  Will grinned and dropped the saber. “Knew you’d see it my way.”

  He stuffed his pistol into his pocket and plucked a brown leather garment from the floor. Evidently, the restraining coat Mr. Todd had worn on his way to the lab. Will bundled Lafayette into it, efficiently binding the captain’s limp arms to his sides and buckling the garment at the back.

  Lafayette stirred groggily. Will tested his handiwork with a few experienced tugs. “Very good.”

  Lafayette snarled, wolflike, so baleful that his blue eyes caught fire, and sharp teeth glinted at the corners of his mouth. “You’d better hope so.”

  “I say, lapdog,” called Todd, “that jacket’s mine. I shall want that back clean. William, don’t say you’ll leave me here. I want to watch.”

  Will shot him a cunning glance. “Oh, you’ll be watching, Mr. Todd. Wouldn’t want you to miss a thing.” He tossed Eliza a pair of wire cutters. “If you please.”

  Mr. Todd winked up at her. His hair was singed, bloodstained where the twin electrodes pierced his temples. Dimly, she recalled lectures on brain anatomy. Frontal lobes. Impulse control. Just perfect.

  His soft hair tickled her fingertips. She eased one wire free. Schlllp! Two inches deep, almost too fine to see, coated in bloody fluid. The second electrode, opposite side, just the same.

  Her stomach lurched. She wanted to vomit. She wanted to blot the blood from his temples, bathe him clean . . . Quickly, she tugged off the leather strap around his head and hurled it away as if it were a dead thing. Disgusting.

  “You’re very kind.” Mr. Todd’s murmur tingled her spine. She didn’t dare catch his eye.

  Snip! Snap! Snick! His wire restraints parted in her clippers. Todd sat up, rubbing his bleeding wrists, and swiftly Will pulled his arms behind his back and clapped him into a pair of steel manacles with a sturdy lock attached.

  Will ran his finger inside one steel cuff. “Not too tight, Mr. Todd?”

  “Perfectly fine, William.” Todd clambered off the bed frame and popped his neck bones with a crunch! Wriggled his bloodstained clothes into place. Puffed a singed crimson strand away from his eyes, and grinned at no one in particular. “Capital. Shall we be off? I do so love a wedding, don’t you?”

  LUX EX TENEBRIS

  WITH EFFICIENCY BORN FROM YEARS OF TENDING the unruly, William herded them all up the final stairway, a narrow one that twisted beneath rafters and around hidden corners. Mr. Todd first, humming a little ditty under his breath. Then Lafayette, stumbling. Will prodded his pistol into the small of Eliza’s back. “Up, my lady. It isn’t far.”

  Eliza’s mind scrambled for a plan. Cut and run? Even if she could overpower Will and his pistol . . .

  Lizzie snarled like a beast. We ain’t leaving Remy behind with these crazy folk. You’re the clever one. Think of sommat else.

  “Will, listen,” Eliza began desperately, “we don’t have to do this. We can—”

  “You never talked nonsense before.” Will’s tone sharpened. “Please don’t spoil things now.”

  He pushed her through a small wooden door at the top of the stairs. A large area of attic floorboards had been cleared beneath the dome’s inner structure, wooden beams and rafters exposed.

  A vast door in the dome had been dragged aside by pulleys, and wind groaned and whistled through the gaps. At the top, a copper lightning rod stabbed to the sky, attached to a web of grounding wires. A massive aetheric generator sat bolted to the floor, and blue-white current crackled between copper points in the smell of ozone. Stinging raindrops swirled, mixed with flying leaves and grit. Lightning splashed like paint thrown at a wall. The air shook with thunder. And still the storm grew fiercer.

  Will laughed, exulting in the weather’s power. His eyes shone yellow, luminous in the stormlight. Where had he caught his curse? Attacked, like Lafayette? A diseased cadaver at medical school? Or from a patient, some hybrid mutation of the hunger that infected poor Miss Lucy? Maybe she’d never know.

  “Perfect!” Will yelled over the wind. “Mr. Todd, sit over there, if you please. Take that stinking dog with you. I’ll deal with him when I’m done.”

  “Try it, puppy,” growled Lafayette. “I’ll tear your skin off and eat it in strips. Seems I’m not a pack animal.”

  “Oh, calm down, lapdog.” Todd took a seat on a bench and hooked his foot around Lafayette’s ankle to make him follow suit. “Sit, there’s a good boy. Have a chocolate drop.”

  Above, an intricate network of ropes and pulleys had been strung. Wires, cables, chains, and counterweights, all connected to a contraption hidden beneath a vast tent of white sheets. Will ran across the room—or rather, shambled, half-man, half-beast, wriggling his misshapen shoulders, his wolfen knee joints popping inside his trousers—and hauled on a rope. The sheets dragged upwards and blew aside.

  An oblong metal frame hung from four chains, one at each corner. It held the naked, headless body of a woman. She was starved, ribs standing out, but Eliza could tell she’d once been voluptuous, with curving hips and breasts . . .

  Miss Lucy. Poor, hungry, headless Lucy, who’d lusted after Will’s blood. She’d made an easy target, in the end.

  A line of stitching—a surgeon’s sutures, neat and clean, no madman’s frenzied effort at sewing—circled each forearm. Another line around each thigh. Blood oozed from the junctions of flesh. The feet—Miss Pavlova’s feet—were scarred and unlovely, tortured by years of effort. Sally’s hands were thin, the nails broken but meticulously cleaned.

  Lucy’s body—the creature—was clamped to the frame by iron straps that wrapped the chest and thighs. From a metal node above, dozens of wires hung like a bed’s canopy, feeding into the corpse, via copper clamps and spikes that pierced her flesh. A helmeted mask of buckled leather sat ready on a table. Countless hair-fine electrodes sprang from it in a bright steel flower.

  Beside the creature lay a full-length operating table, empty. Shining steel, a gutter down each side to catch the blood. Suturing tools—thread, curved needles, scissors—were laid out meticulously. Surgical instruments, too. Scalpels, clamps and tourniquets, a bone saw, a long-bladed knife. Swabs for blood were piled neatly. On the floor sat a bucket half-filled with sand.

  Instruments for amputation.

  In a jar of preserving fluid floated a pair of bloodied eyeballs. Ragged red nerves dangled. The irises were green, pale, startled. Mortified. As if their owner’s last thoughts were fixed there forever.

  All the creature needed was a head.

  Transfixed, Will stroked the creature’s pale thigh. “Isn’t she lovely? It took me a few practice pieces to get the stitching just right. Oh, you needn’t worry,” he added, seeing Eliza’s expression. “About our marriage bed, I mean. I’ve tested it most scientifically. This body and I have a certain . . . affinity. I’m confident it’ll be the same with your head on.”

  Unwelcome images flooded, of Will and Lucy, doing sordid things in the filthy darkness of the asylum. Bared flesh, juddering teeth, grunts . . . “You horrid boy,” she burst out. “You’re supposed to be taking care of them.”

  Will wrenched her elbow cruelly. “Don’t test me,” he hissed, spit flecking from his growing teeth. “This is all for you. I loathe ingratitude.”

  Red rage boiled over her eyes. Her shadow swelled like a monster, bursting out, I burst out, juddering and fuming and growling alive and fuck me, I’ve had enough of this rotten little weasel’s attitude.

  “Oh, aye?” says I. “Well, I loathe dirty murdering squeezers who screw sick girls for a thrill. How’d you like them apples?”

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” Sinclair’s face twists, and his nose pulls longer, into a snout. “I killed Billy Beane for her sake, not yours. Bring her back.”

  I cackle, just to enrage him more. “Eliza don’t want you, idiot. Never did, nev
er will.”

  He shakes me, growling, his hair sprouting wild. “Bring her back, whore.”

  “Look at them two. Go on, look.” I jerk my chin at Athos and d’Artagnan over there on the bench. “More wit and grace in their spit than in the whole of your weedy little idiot’s body. Jesus in a gin palace, do you really think you could win a woman like her? Don’t make me heave.”

  “I want Eliza. Bring her back!” He drags me towards the operating table. Damn, he’s stronger than he looks. I kick and lose my footing, but he just wraps a fist in my hair and keeps right on dragging. Grabs a bottle of golden liquid, uncorks it with his teeth. Slops some onto a swab and forces it over my mouth.

  My blood howls. It’s the drug. The knock-out medicine. I snarl and spit and shake my head like an angry lion, but he smothers my nose and jams his knee into my guts.

  Uhhh! My lungs cramp, and I can’t help but take a fat gulp . . .

  But it ain’t cherry blossoms.

  It’s bitter, like Eliza’s remedy. Like the stuff she gives to the lunatics to keep them calm. To banish their shadow. Lux ex tenebris.

  Oh hell.

  I fight. I really do. But no matter how much I cough and spit, I can’t stop the drug seeping into my blood. My vision pinwheels. I can’t breathe. I’m shrinking, the shadow is writhing and screaming, smaller and smaller, and like a black rubber ball it squeezes unbearably tight . . .

  And pop! Eliza’s eyes snapped open.

  She wriggled furiously in Will’s grip. Lizzie!

  But Lizzie was gone. Eliza was on her own.

  Will grinned, ghoulish. “Better. Your Mr. Finch truly is a genius. It’s fleeting, unfortunately, with painful side effects. But it’s amazing stuff.” He helped her stand and smoothed her skirts for her. “Come, it’s time. This won’t take long. I’ve practiced over and over, you know. I can take off a head in two minutes.”

  Human heads in the Thames! recalled Eliza dully. The Moorfields Monster. He’d been practicing, all right.