The Valentine Circle

by Reinaldo DelValle

“The train station?” Posy chimed in.

  “Yes. They’ve been planning to leave together. They were so scared, especially after hearing what happened to the other girls. So, at last, they snuck out and left to catch a train to New York. But that man—he was there at the station. He knew they were coming.”

  “Mr. Factory was there?” Belloc said, tensing up. “What happened to them? Dear God, are they all right?”

  “That’s the problem,” Harlow continued. “We went to the police department to ask questions, but they refuse to answer any of them. All that they told me was that Catherine had been stabbed in the stomach and was rushed to some small city hospital, in surgery at the moment. They said she’s going to pull through, but the baby had already died before they reached the station.”

  “And Miss Dupuys?” Belloc said.

  “They said nothing about her. That’s why I’m worried. They said she wasn’t at the station, that she never was, and that’s a lie! I just know it! They were together, always. They were the best of friends. Something happened to Frances, and they won’t tell me about it. They just...”

  Harlow broke down in tears before she was able to finish her last sentence. Her mother embraced her, comforting Harlow by whispering into her ear.

  “I know he took her,” Harlow kept saying after composing herself. “I just don’t know where to. Please, Inspector, you have to help us. You have to go find her. Please!”

  “Calm down, Miss Lattimer,” Belloc said. “We’ll figure something out, okay? Don’t worry.”

  The mother approached Belloc. “Inspector, I just wanted to say that I never, ever went along with this plan of theirs.”

  “You mean the Valentine Society?”

  “Yes,” the mother said. “I was against it from the beginning but was scared to say anything for fear of retribution. My husband already...um...”

  “What is it?”

  “He’s...had his way with me sometimes, and there’ve been a few bruises here and there, so I was scared to do anything, but now I can’t take it anymore. I’ve had enough bloodshed, enough death. I want those two girls to live, especially Frances, who’s a girl very dear to my heart, a sweet and innocent girl. What the Society did to these girls was unforgivable and just evil, and, from now on, I will do everything in my power to see that justice is done.”

  “Are you saying that you’ll testify?” Belloc said.

  “Yes, Inspector. That is what I’m saying. After that, I will be leaving with Harlow, somewhere private and far away from here.”

  Surging with new life, Belloc sat up, ignoring his pain. “Dalton, I know you’re not an officer anymore, but I need your help.”

  “At your service.”

  “Go with these men and search for Miss Dupuys.”

  “Where do we start?” Dalton said.

  “Well, their houses, for one.”

  “No, why would he do that?” Posy said, sitting up herself. “The news of the kidnapping and attack has already been publicized. The Society wouldn’t want to make this situation even bigger. They would certainly not want Mr. Factory to head back to any of the houses. It’s too risky. Especially now that he’s on the run since he’s wanted for the murders of Claudia and Violet.”

  “Where to, then?” Dalton asked.

  “I’m thinking,” Posy said.

  “There’s only one place he would go,” Belloc said.

  “Oh?” Posy said, waiting for his answer.

  “This man, this Mr. Factory, is still under orders, still controlled by the group. If he’s to take Miss Dupuys somewhere, it would be somewhere where the group would have access to the girl, but if it’s not any of their houses, then it must be...”

  “The countess,” Posy said.

  “Correct,” Belloc said. “He’s probably taken Miss Dupuys to the manor. So what’s the plan, Dalton?”

  “I’ll take the crew with me and confront the countess, and I’ll bring that girl back alive.”

  “Good,” Belloc said.

  Posy was impressed by Dalton’s courage.

  “No,” said a voice coming from the rear of the room. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

  Everyone turned around, including the nurse that had just walked in to take Belloc’s vitals. Near the back corner, standing by the window, was Silas, suited up in his new clothes. With his arms crossed and his head lowered, all they could see of him were his eyes, and they were deadly intense.

  “Who are you?” Dalton said.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Silas continued. He stood up and approached Dalton. “But if you do, then you’d best prepare to die.”

  “Silas?” Belloc said, recognizing his voice.

  “Hello, Inspector.”

  “Silas, is that you?” Posy said, both ecstatic and afraid.

  Silas stared at her without saying a word.

  “Silas?” It was slowly dawning on her that Silas had gone through some type of transformation. She shuddered the minute she saw him bruised and battered, and instantly got the urge to embrace him.

  “What do you mean, I’m not going?” Dalton asked.

  “It’s pretty self-explanatory.” Silas walked back to the rear of the room and leaned against the windowsill, crossing his arms. “You’ll stay here and watch over Belloc and Posy, especially Posy, who is prone to being in places where she shouldn’t be.”

  “Excuse me?” Posy said.

  “You guys can share some time together. I’m sure you’ll enjoy that, Dalton.”

  Dalton didn’t say a word.

  “What are you trying to say?” Posy asked. “Why are you being so cold? You’ve changed all of a sudden. I don’t know if I like this new Silas. I want the old one back.”

  Silas walked up to Posy and stared her down for a second, and with a sad tone, he said, “I don’t know if that’s possible, Posy.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “But I’m really glad you’re okay. When I heard what you had to go through, it...it made me angrier than I’ve ever felt. I…I’m going to do my best not to let that happen again. Ever. I’m proud of what you did. You were very brave. I’m so happy that you’re safe, Posy.”

  “Well, if you’re so proud of me, why don’t you let me go with you? I know you’re going to see the countess, aren’t you? I can help you, Silas.”

  “What?” Silas replied, astonished.

  “Don’t be silly,” Dalton added. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “You can’t go alone,” Posy pleaded. “You’ll need me there. My shoulder feels a lot better.”

  “No, Posy,” Silas replied. “You’ve done enough already. What I need is for you to stay here and be safe.” He paused and thought for a moment. “You see, Posy, soon I’ll be thrust into a deep and dark place, and I’ll need you to bring me back from it. Do you understand? So I’d rather you stay here and wait for me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Silas turned away and went back to his post near the end of the room.

  Posy didn’t say anything else.

  “So, you’re going to see the countess?” Dalton said.

  “That’s a possibility,” Silas replied.

  “Well, wherever you go, I’m coming with you, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  Silas walked up to Dalton, and using his thumb and two fingers, pinched Dalton’s neck. “You need to play nicely, Dalton.” He instantly fell asleep as Silas dragged him to a nearby chair.

  “What did you do to him?” Belloc asked.

  “I gave him a day off,” Silas said, walking up to the bed. “Plus, I’m the only inspector left in this room.” He took out his badge and pinned it on the right of his chest. He made his way towards the door before turning around to the group of officers standing around Belloc’s bed. “You seven are coming with me.”

  “Wait, I thought you said you were going to the countess’s manor alone?” Posy said.

  “I’m not going to the manor,” Silas said.

  “But what
about Frances?” Harlow pleaded with him.

  “It’s not just about Frances anymore. It’s more than that. Too many injustices have transgressed the good people of this city, all by a small group of elites that think themselves above the law. There’s a reckoning coming. I learned throughout my years in Japan as I lived amongst death and beauty, darkness and life, that the world runs on laws that we can’t see or comprehend, but only experience. I’ve learned to understand that there’ll always be a settling of accounts, whether that particular justice is served immediately or years upon years into the future. This has always been a truth of life.” He turned around and made his way out the door.

  “So where are you going now?” Posy asked.

  Silas stopped just before stepping into the hallway and turned his head towards his friend.

  “To settle things.”

  He left the room, and a chill crawled down Posy’s spine.

  *

  A MAN RUSHED DOWN A DARKENED HALL, being careful not to trip over the various overpriced rugs. Once he scaled up the stairs, turning the corner in a hurry, he was met by a large, gaudy door. He knocked with trepidation.

  “Come in,” Mr. Haralson said.

  The man opened the door.

  “What is it, Cunningham?”

  The butler tapped his feet together and slightly bowed. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr. Haralson, but I have a letter for you. It’s urgent. It’s about…”

  “Shhh. Don’t say any more, please. Hand it over.”

  The butler gave the letter to his boss.

  “You may go now, Cunningham.”

  “Of course, sir.” The butler turned around and departed from Mr. Haralson’s expansive study.

  Mr. Haralson took the note over to his desk and sat down. He noticed that the envelope had been opened and was wary at the thought of knowing that someone must’ve read the letter.

  My wife opened it; that scorn of a woman.

  He took the letter out and read it:

  To whom it may concern,

  This letter is to inform you that your daughter has been taken ill to the city hospital but is in stable condition. Her baby has been terminated and your family’s bloodline thoroughly sanitized. Though I regret to inform you that your daughter will no longer be able to carry a child for the remaining years of her life.

  Such are the means to the end.

  Mr. Factory Universalis

  At first, Mr. Haralson celebrated the Valentine Society’s victory, but soon found himself in a hole of despair once the thought of his daughter never having more children entered his mind. He lowered his head, and darkness overtook him.

  The shadows in his study grew larger, and the wind rattled his slightly open window. A wild raven jumped onto the windowsill, crowing loudly and startling Mr. Haralson to death. He got up immediately and shooed the bird away. Standing quietly for a moment, he let the silence of the winter snow occupy his thoughts.

  Then he heard a scream.

  The shrilling sound shook him to the bones, and he rushed out of his office in the direction of the desperate plea. Running up towards the third floor, he realized that the scream came from inside his bedroom. Fearing the worst, he approached slowly, pushing the door open as it made a nerve-wracking creak.

  Inside, he found one of his maids, pale-faced and out of breath. The horror in her eyes said it all. With a trembling finger, she pointed towards the rear of the room.

  Turning his head, Mr. Haralson saw his wife of twenty years hanging from one of the chandeliers. Her lifeless body spun around like an endless merry-go-round. He rushed up to his wife, throwing his arms around her. She was still warm to the touch.

  Using all the strength he could muster, he took the makeshift noose and pulled on it. With one swift tug, he forced it to crash down onto the floor, allowing his wife to fall with it as well. Quickly, he took her lifeless body into his hands and pressed against her cheeks, pleading for her to wake up.

  No response.

  At that moment, a certain feeling of despair engulfed his entire body, a deep and sorrowful feeling of guilt, stabbing at the core of his heart. So without thinking rationally, he stood up, shaking beyond control, and approached his bedroom window. Turning around one last time to look at his wife, all of a sudden he was confronted by all of the horrid decisions he’d made in the recent months, and at last realizing that he was nothing but a monster, he turned around, opened the window, and threw himself out. Death came suddenly for Mr. Haralson, and for a moment, all was quiet inside the otherwise peaceful mansion.

  That is, until the sounds of gasps filled the air, and Mrs. Haralson’s eyes opened wide, full of life.

  ***

  Across the serene neighborhood of Worcester Estates, another man got word of the Society’s triumph against the group of girls who’d dared to challenge its authority. Mr. Decamps had been walking his large Irish wolfhound when the letter came.

  “What are you doing on my grounds, boy?” Mr. Decamps said to the child who’d unexpectedly appeared to him. The wolfhound barked at the boy, yet it didn’t bother him.

  “I have a letter for you.”

  “For me? Well, who’s it from?”

  “From the universe, sir.”

  Mr. Decamps’s eyes trembled with surprise, and his disposition suddenly changed. “Oh, I see. Well, my apologies for being so unwelcoming. Give it here, please.”

  The boy gave him the letter.

  “Say, if you see him, could you…”

  “Good day, Mr. Decamps,” the boy said, quickly interrupting him. He turned around and disappeared into the winter landscape.

  Mr. Decamps opened the envelope and took out the letter. It was short and succinct:

  The circle is complete. Payment is due in full.

  Regards,

  Mr. Factory Universalis

  Mr. Decamps’s grin stretched from ear to ear. He crumpled up the note and gave it to his wolfhound to devour. He found a wooden bench a few yards from where he stood, and he walked over to it and sat down. He reached inside his pocket and took out a large piece of paper he’d confiscated from his daughter’s room a few weeks earlier. It was a drawing his daughter had made of the Valentine Circle. She had an amazing artistic talent, and on the drawing were the six members of the circle, drawn together, standing next to each other, holding hands and sporting hopeful smiles. On the drawing, dark chalk lines had been drawn across four of the six girls. With a piece of the same dark chalk, he crossed the last two girls off.

  At last, his plan was a success. All the tainted babies were either dead or out of the Society’s life for good. He put the paper back inside his coat and then took out a fat cigar. He lit it and carefully placed his lips on the tip, enjoying the taste of tobacco passing through his mouth, swirling inside his cheeks. He was alone, victorious in his own right, surrounded by his lavish mansion, sitting on his overpriced wooden bench, enjoying the feeling of his unquestionable triumph.

  He felt like a god.

  ***

  A few hours passed into the day, and dusk’s purple palette spread across the horizon. The calm neighborhood of Worcester Estates lay napping in indulgence, as a lion would do after devouring the entirety of its prey. Four houses down from Mr. Decamps’s glorious mansion sat the equally impressive Dupuys estate. Inside the mansion, the majority of hallways and rooms were dark, as if mourning their dear Frances Dupuys’s sudden disappearance. Yet there was one room that didn’t share the mansion’s sentiment.

  On the uppermost floor, all the way down the hall, Mendel and Merle stood outside a room, looking overwhelmingly bored, as if they’d been standing guard for hours.

  Inside the bedroom there were moans of pleasure and screams of pain. A bed rocked and knocked against one of the walls.

  At last the screams of pleasure ceased, and after a few minutes the door opened, and out came Mrs. Dupuys, looking disheveled. She took a handkerchief and wiped the sweat off her face and cleavage while simultaneously stuf
fing her overly large breasts back into her corset.

  “Thank you for this one,” Mrs. Dupuys said. “He’s the best I’ve had so far. You guys outdid yourselves once again.”

  “At your service, Madame,” Merle said.

  “Remember, not a word to my husband.”

  “You know us better than that, Mrs. Dupuys.”

  “Of course.” She looked inside the bedroom one last time before turning to walk away.

  The second Mrs. Dupuys left, the siblings turned towards the bedroom.

  “Come on; let’s try to get this cleaned up as soon as possible.”

  The siblings stepped inside and closed the door. Before them was a young teenage boy, no more than fifteen years old, naked and bruised, tied up to a bed and unable to move. He had a blindfold on him and a gag in his mouth. His face was bruised, and his naked chest and back were scratched up, with blood dripping down his sides.

  Mendel strode up to the boy and replaced the gag in his mouth with a wad of cash. “Thank you for your cooperation. I don’t think I have to tell you what’ll happen if you talk about this to anyone. Do you understand?” The boy nodded his head. “Good.” He turned to Merle. “Sister, cut his bindings and get him cleaned up, then take him back to the orphanage.”

  Merle didn’t respond.

  “Sis?”

  She didn’t speak, just reached for the large bowie knife strapped to her leg. Knife in hand, she sat down next to the boy, making him squirm in fear. “There, there,” Merle said. “It’s going to be all right. I’m not here to hurt you.”

  “What are you doing, Merle?”

  “I’m having my fun.”

  “We don’t have time for this. Clean up the boy and go.”

  “Let me just have twenty minutes with him.”

  “Are you joking?”

  “I have my needs, brother.”

  “Fine. Be quick about it, and don’t harm him. We don’t need the trouble.”

  “You have my word,” Merle said as she watched her brother leave the room and close the door. She turned to the boy, taking off his blindfold. “I want you to see what you’re going to be pleasuring.”