by LENOX, KIM
He stared at her.
Her smile faded. “What exactly are you, Archer?”
“You asked if I was an angel or a demon.” He scrutinized her face, as if trying to decide how much she could take. “I’m neither of those things.”
She lifted her hand to his cheek. “Tell me, then, what you are. I want to know.”
“I am an Amaranthine. I’m an immortal.”
She closed her eyes for a moment. “I still can’t believe all this. If I hadn’t seen those things myself—” She bit her bottom lip. “It’s like something from a fantasy, but you say you are immortal as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.”
“It is normal. For me and those of my kind.” He shrugged. “I suppose we’ve had plenty of time to get used to the idea.”
She nodded, trying to understand. “I guess it would be. Have you always been so?”
He rose up onto an elbow and, solemn now, peered down into her face. “I’m very old, Elena. This might be difficult for you to understand, but I have walked this earth from almost the beginning of time.”
“What about Selene and Mark?”
“They were born mortal, and later transformed. Some mortals have that disposition, to become immortal. It’s a rare thing, though, and even more rare in recent centuries. We don’t know why.”
He ran his fingertips along her cheek. “It feels so strange to confess these things to you.”
Elena ruminated over everything she remembered from the basement. “You and the twins are some sort of hunters, aren’t you? You’re hunting Jack the Ripper.”
“Yes,” he acknowledged quietly.
“Why the Ripper? Why not all the other villains of the world?”
“We are members of the ancient Order of the Shadow Guards. We’re tasked with the elimination—what we call the Reclamation—of exceedingly corrupt mortal souls. Souls so wicked they approach a supernatural state called Transcension, where they become dangerously powerful, and gain the ability to cross over into the Inner Realm.”
“The Inner Realm . . . ,” Elena murmured.
“A beautiful place, with endless green hills and air so clean you grow more alive just breathing. Or at least that’s what I remember. I’ve not returned there in a very long time.”
A knock sounded on the door. Elena pushed herself up, holding the sheet.
A frown turned Archer’s lips.
“It’s your girl, Lizzy,” he said. “You’d better answer.”
“Lizzy?” Elena repeated, a bit panicked. “Lizzy’s the last person I saw before I awoke in Jack the Ripper’s pit.”
“What you saw wasn’t Lizzy, but an apparition created by Jack to gain your trust and lure you close enough to seize. Your Lizzy never left the premises of Black House.”
“What a relief,” Elena exhaled. She stared at the door. “Still . . . I’m not ready. I need more time with you.”
“I know. But we’ve got a visitor downstairs, and it could be something important.”
Elena nodded. Even though she wished they could hide away in her room forever, they couldn’t forget everything that had happened leading up to this moment. There might be a battle going on, at this very moment, involving Selene, Mark and Jack the Ripper. Pushing the hair from her shoulders, she quickly pulled a dressing gown from her wardrobe. A moment later she peered through the cracked door.
“Lizzy.”
“Good afternoon, miss.” The young maid eyed the narrow opening with suspicion. “It’s after two and you’re not dressed? I hope you’re not ill.”
“I had a very long night.”
“You’ve got a visitor. Should I tell him you are not receiving?”
“Who is it?”
“It’s that handsome Dr. Harcourt from the hospital. He appears quite agitated, miss. He asked to see you and Lord Black, but we’ve not located his lordship.”
“I’ll be right down.”
“Do you need help dressing?”
“No, thank you. I believe you may find his lordship in his study.”
“I already looked there, miss.”
“Try looking again.” Elena started to shut the door.
“Wait, miss,” Lizzy whispered, pressing her face into the crack.
“Yes, Lizzy?”
The girl grasped her hand and pressed something smooth and cool against her palm. Elena glanced down. Her buttons. A rush of heat scalded her cheeks.
Lizzy grinned, and scampered down the hallway.
Elena quickly shut the door again. Archer swung his legs over the side of the bed. The sheet barely covered his hips. He reached for his trousers. Her gaze swept in appreciation over the heavy muscle of his shoulders. Her heartbeat raced unevenly as she remembered the passion they’d shared just hours before.
“Do you think they got him?”
Archer paused. “Once we find out what Harcourt’s got to say, I’ll leave you here with Leeson and go find out.”
She said, “You go downstairs first. I’ll follow you in a few moments.”
Tugging his shirt up his arms, he bent to kiss her nose. “You and I still have much to discuss.”
“Yes, we do, but Archer—everything is good. Between you and me—whatever happens. I just want you to know that. I understand better now.”
A quarter hour later, after having dressed and repaired her hair, Elena joined Archer and Dr. Harcourt in the study. Archer sat behind his desk. Harcourt sat in the wing chair. Both sat quietly. Rigidly. She wondered if they had spoken two words to each other before she came into the room.
Seeing her, they both stood, Archer coming round the desk to tower beside her.
Harcourt gripped the brim of his bowler in both hands. “I received word you were safe, Miss Whitney, but I feel immensely better now that I’ve seen you with my own eyes.” Agitation brightened his features. “Lord Black told me of your ordeal. I can blame only myself. If I had brought you back to Black House immediately, as Lord Black instructed—”
Elena glanced to Archer, hoping he had not taken the man to task over that detail. His stony expression gave her no reassurance.
Looking back to Harcourt she said, “You must not blame yourself. Like you, when the casualties from the brewery arrived, I thought it better to stay and assist. I’m safe now.” She smiled to reassure him. “That’s what matters.”
His normally golden skin grew very pale. “I’m not altogether convinced of that.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Have you ever met a woman by the name of Mary Kelly?”
Mary Kelly. What a familiar name. She scoured her memory.
“Yes.” The woman she had met at the Ten Bells with Mrs. Scott. “I believe I have, if it’s the same girl. I cannot say we shared more than a few words, but someone remarked how we looked like each other.” Elena’s smile faded. “Why?”
“This morning I received a summons from the police surgeon, asking that I accompany him to a crime scene at Miller’s Court.”
Elena experienced a sudden premonition of what he would say. “Don’t say it.”
Harcourt nodded. “It’s true, I’m afraid. Last night Mary Kelly was murdered in her bed.”
Elena gasped, “No.”
Harcourt continued in a gravelly voice. “That’s a kind word for what he did to her. I say ‘he’ because there is no mistaking who committed the crime.”
She glanced at Archer, and found him standing rigid and emotionless beside his desk.
“I found this in her room.” He pulled an envelope from his hip pocket and held it out to Archer. “It’s addressed to you, Lord Black.”
Archer’s gaze burned upon the envelope with such intense hatred that Elena feared the contents would burst into flames in Harcourt’s hand before they had a chance to read them.
“Don’t tell anyone where you obtained the letter, I beg you. I risk my professional reputation in not turning it over to the authorities, but when I saw what was written inside, I could do nothing but bring
it directly to you.”
“Open it, Archer,” Elena urged. “Read what it says.”
Archer seized the envelope and opened its flap.
“What does it say?” she asked.
He read in a quiet voice. “It seems that like you . . . I am developing a preference for pretty girls.” He closed the letter. “There’s more vile stuff. I will not read the rest aloud in Miss Whitney’s presence.”
The blood drained from Elena’s face, and she quickly seated herself into a nearby chair. “He’s threatened me again, hasn’t he?”
Just then she startled, seeing a shadow move out of the corner of her eye. And another.
Harcourt strode past her to stand before Archer. “Your lordship, Miss Whitney is in further danger. Protect her. I beg you. Do what you must to keep her safe. My God, take her out of the city if you must. As for me, I must return immediately to the scene of the crime.”
With that the doctor took up his hat from the chair and vacated the room.
A long, silent moment passed.
Elena whispered, “They are here, aren’t they?”
Archer nodded.
Selene and Mark materialized from shadow.
“So you’ve heard the latest news from the East End.” Mark paced before the fire.
Elena whispered, “He killed that girl while I was down in that pit.”
Selene threw her mantle over the back of the empty chair. Glaring at Archer, she seethed, “He used your lover against not only you, Archer, but all of us. As a distraction.”
Elena pushed herself up from her chair. “Tell them about the letter, Archer. He wants me, if only to get to the rest of you. So let him have me. Use me as bait and lure him out.”
“I won’t put you in danger.”
She came closer, placing her hand on his arm. “You wouldn’t let him hurt me, I know you wouldn’t. I have every faith in you.”
“Elena,” he said quietly. “I’ve got to ask that you leave us now. I must speak with Mark and Selene privately.”
Elena went stiff. She nodded, her plan obviously rejected. She wanted to stay with him, to be included in everything, no matter how dangerous the outcome.
But she couldn’t forget what he was, and what she wasn’t.
Archer watched Elena go. At the door, she paused.
Love you.
Her shoulders straightened but she didn’t look back. Instead, she pulled the tall wooden door shut behind her.
Good girl.
He gave his full attention to the twin Guards who awaited him. “The wave is upon us. Jack has turned brotoi.”
Mark crossed his arms over his chest. “Let’s go get him then, the three of us, together. We won’t allow ourselves to be divided again.”
Selene grasped up her mantle.
Archer slowly shook his head. “Things have gone too far. This brotoi has made fools of us, while we’ve struggled to find our bearings. I won’t take any more chances.”
Mark asked, “What are you saying?”
Peace spread through Archer, calming the beat of his heart. He was ready. Content. He had taken his existence as far as he wished to go. He could not share this earth with Elena knowing each moment brought her closer to death, to a place where, because of his immortal spirit, he could not follow.
The mantle slipped from Selene’s hands. “You’re going to Transcend.”
“Yes.” Archer stared into Mark’s eyes. “And after I’ve Reclaimed Jack, you, Mark, are going to kill me.”
Elena lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, while trying to grasp the enormity of everything she’d seen and heard and learned that day. She closed her eyes.
Too much. She couldn’t imagine how any of it would work out. She pressed her fists against her forehead, trying to stave off the hopelessness.
“He’s going to sacrifice himself, you know. For you.”
She gasped and sat up. Mark sat on the window seat, his long legs extended before him.
“He’s going to Transcend in order to slay the Ripper.”
“I thought Transcension was something only deteriorated souls could do.”
“Shadow Guards can employ Transcension as a sort of strategy, but only as a last-ditch effort to defeat our foe. It’s the greatest sacrifice a Guard can make.”
“You keep using the word ‘sacrifice’. Why?”
“Because once he’s Transcended, he’ll defeat the Ripper, no doubt about that. But afterward he’ll go mad. Become unstable. A loose cannon. The Primordials will order him hunted down and killed, for the protection of the Inner Realm.”
“He is one of their own.”
“He wouldn’t be one of their own anymore. He’d be a threat.”
Elena pushed herself off the bed and slowly crossed the room toward the pale-haired Shadow Guard. “What is your motive for telling me this, Mark?”
His gaze, his expression, remained guarded. “It’s not important for you to know my motive. Do you want Archer to live or die? That’s it. There are only two possible outcomes to this scenario.”
Chapter Eighteen
Elena drew a shaky breath. “Of course I want him to live.”
He held her gaze. “Then say you’ll help me. I shall bear the only consequence.”
Elena pondered his words for a long, tortuous moment. Did she betray Archer by even considering Mark’s words?
Do you want Archer to live or die?
“Tell me what you want me to do.”
He sat straighter now, and his eyes glowed with some secret ambition. “It’s no different than the plan you proposed, really. Tonight, after dark, I want you to take a hackney and meet me at the Ten Bells. That’s it. Plain and simple.”
“The Ripper will find me,” she whispered.
“You won’t so much as see him. You won’t be harmed.”
Elena closed her eyes. She couldn’t believe she was agreeing to this. She didn’t even know if she could trust Mark.
“One more thing. He has ordered Selene to see to your protection, here at Black House.”
“How am I supposed to escape her long enough to meet you?”
“Give her this.” He handed her a slim package, wrapped in brown paper. “She’ll be drunk on it for hours. It’s important you don’t tell her of our plan. She would do everything to thwart us.”
“She loves Archer too,” Elena countered softly. “She supports his decision to Transcend?”
“Over mine, yes. Because, you see, I am her blood. Her twin. You’d have to be one of us to understand.”
In a blink, she found herself alone in her room again. Her gaze went to the window. Already the day began to fade. Her heart beat an anxious, erratic tempo. She knew full well this plan of Mark’s was no sure success. So many things could go wrong.
Knowing Archer would leave soon, she went downstairs to the study. He and Leeson stood amidst an array of open cases. Leeson, upon seeing her, seized the nearest lid, as if he would hide whatever was contained therein.
Archer said, “It’s all right, Leeson.”
Elena drew near, and saw the white gleam of metal. Weapons. Swords, daggers, and others she couldn’t exactly define.
Lesson murmured, “Just don’t touch them, child. They are . . . very sharp.”
Elena nodded, her gaze having lifted to Archer. “You’ll be leaving soon, won’t you?”
He avoided her gaze. “Yes.”
“Were you planning to say good-bye?”
Archer stilled. After a long moment he spoke.
“Leeson, if you could go now and tell Mr. Jarvis the staff, himself included, may enjoy the remainder of the weekend with their families, or doing whatever they wish as a paid holiday. I do believe it would be simpler to have them away from the house while we make our preparations.”
“Very well, sir.”
Once his secretary had gone, Archer stood silent, staring at her. Finally, when Elena could bear their separation no more, she ran to him. His arms enfolded her so fiercel
y she lost all breath.
His jaw moved against the top of her head. “I don’t ever want to say good-bye to you.”
“This is it, isn’t it? You might not return. I might not ever see you again.”
“That’s right.”
“I love you, Archer.”
His embrace grew stronger.
“I love you too.”
“I’ve loved every moment spent with you. Even the unhappy ones.”
He laughed, with a deep, rumbling sound.
“And your gifts to me.” A tear ran down her cheek. “I will treasure the memory of them forever.”
“I’ve one more gift for you.”
The emotion she felt burned too intensely. She wouldn’t be able to look at him without sobbing like a child. “I can’t, Archer. I can’t look at you.”
He forced her chin up. “You must.”
She did as he asked. Unencumbered, tears flowed down her cheeks.
“Don’t close your eyes, darling.”
He bent his head to press his lips against hers.
Elena stared into his silver eyes. His pupils dilated. The world spiraled.
Now she did close her eyes. She gasped, the images, the emotions, flashing across her mind in wild, colorful profusion. He caught her against him and held her tight.
“There they are,” she marveled. “My memories. Every last one—”
Archer waited. As he had known she would, she suddenly stiffened. Her face went white, and she grew rigid in his arms.
After a long moment, her eyes finally opened.
“Dr. Philip Whitney, my father. A missionary physician on the Ivory Coast. It’s all true.”
Archer caressed her cheek. “I knew only the barest details. It’s very difficult to gain particulars on a mortal soul who has passed over. Most are outside my domain.”
“I’m sorry.” She pulled away. Despite the moment, she laughed low in her throat. “I have made your shirt hopelessly wet. Do you have a handkerchief?”
Archer retrieved one from his desk.
She wiped her eyes. “My father and I had a wonderful life there, but he passed away. I had always assisted him in his practice and wished to continue in the occupation. I came to London to attend to the formalities of medical school and acquire my license, but my first day here, there was an accident. It is all as you explained in your letter to me, only I wasn’t injured. I was left destitute when everything was stolen from me.”
