by Rachel Blake
Angel sat in the quiet of the library drinking swigs of gin straight from the bottle. It would certainly be a different household without father’s massive creature walking circles on the rug or staring at the drapes for hours.
Angel felt guilt about not experiencing any true anguish about it. He had no idea how things might have turned out days before in the stables if Zander had not stepped in courageously to knock two of the men senseless. But Angel had always been unsettled by the man’s presence, his unbridled temper and preternatural strength had put everyone at risk. And when he thought about how close Zander was to going over the edge of the cliff with Jane on his shoulder, he felt close to retching. He took one last swallow of alcohol and headed upstairs to his father’s room.
There was no sound inside when Angel pressed his ear to the door. He knocked but there was no reply. He turned the knob and walked inside. Father’s mouth hung open and his breathing sounded labored. Angel glanced at the bottle of laudanum on the bed table. After he’d returned from the village without the medicine on that fateful day, Father had sent John out immediately after the murderers had been carted off by the magistrate. The amber colored bottle looked close to empty already.
Angel reached down and shook his father’s shoulder. His wrinkled lids lifted and he stared at Angel with unfocused, bloodshot eyes. “Angel?”
“Yes. Do you not recognize me?”
His father rubbed the spittle from his chin and struggled to sit up but decided it was too difficult. “Bring me some water, Angel. I’m thirsty.”
Angel walked over to the dresser and poured water from a pitcher Ellie had placed there. He walked back with the glass. Father barely lifted his head from the pillow to drink. Water dribbled down both of his cheeks, and he choked momentarily on the tiny amount that had managed to stay in his mouth. The task left him completely breathless. He closed his eyes and held the glass up for Angel to take.
“Father, I need to tell you something. There’s been an accident. Zander is dead, and this time you won’t have an opportunity to bring him back. It seems he managed to cheat mortality once but this time it is permanent.”
A soft snore rumbled from his father’s nose. Angel stared down at him for a moment then left the room.
CHAPTER 28
Jane sat up and pressed her fingers against the pounding in her temples. She remembered vaguely a bitter tasting tea and sitting in Angel’s lap and . . . tears. Then the horror of the previous day came back to her. It was such an awful ending for such a ridiculously innocent, naïve grown man. Zander had been a little boy trapped in a man’s body. But he’d always been a friend to her, and she would miss his broad, simple grin.
She pressed her arm against a stomach that seemed to flip back and forth from feeling hungry to feeling queasy, but she was certain a piece of toast would settle the debate one way or another. She pushed out of bed, walked to the windows, and pushed aside the drapes. The morning sky was still muted with the glossy pink of dawn and all seemed quiet in the yard. She hoped Angel was up and about already. She needed the comforting sound of his deep voice and the security of his strong arms. They needed to plan some way to pay respects to Zander even though he was lost to the sea.
Jane walked downstairs. She heard Angel’s voice before she reached the breakfast room and just hearing the man sent her pulse racing. She reached up and smoothed back her stubborn lock of hair that refused to be bound with the rest and headed toward the smell of smoked ham, warm bread and the man she hungered for more than any tasty morsel of food.
A second voice drifted from the room. It was Dr. Van Ostrand. Jane stopped. She wondered how the good doctor was taking the news. She listened to their conversation a moment, not to eavesdrop, but to be sure it was a good time for her to enter the room. It was entirely possible they wanted to deal with the dreadful news in private.
“I have spent the last decade working on these experiments, and I will not let all I’ve worked for go unrewarded.” Dr. Van Ostrand’s tone was an odd mixture of rage and weariness as if every harsh word took so much physical effort, he needed to rest between syllables.
It seemed strange that he would be focused on his experiments, whatever they were, when they’d just lost Zander in a tragic accident. Jane decided to turn back in the direction of the library. If the doctor was up and about then it was entirely possible that a fire was already warming the room. She could wait there with a book while they finished their conversation. She walked softly, not wanting to alert them to her presence and was still in listening range when she heard Angel’s voice and paused.
“As I’ve warned before, you will not use Jane for this. I won’t allow it.” His voice was smooth and less angry, but there was a hard, threatening edge to his tone that couldn’t be missed.
Now that she’d become the topic of what seemed to be an argument, Jane turned back and pressed against the wall to listen.
A fist slammed the table and the silverware clinkered. “This is not your business, Angel. I know you have grown infatuated with the girl, but I don’t give a damn about that. The Baron Rowntree is coming to see my successes, and Jane is the only specimen I have, so I will introduce her to the Baron, with or without your approval.”
A chair slid abruptly across the floor. “That’s not happening,” Angel said so quietly Jane was not certain she’d heard him correctly. His boot heels cracked against the wood plank floor of the breakfast room, and Jane shook herself from the shock of what she was hearing.
She raced down the hallway before she could be spotted. In her frenzied hurry, she raced past the library and drawing room and found herself at the end of the windowless passage and standing in front of a door. She knew the room behind the door was the doctor’s laboratory, the bitter smelling, eerie room she’d woken up in after her near death experience.
Her throat was dry, and she took a breath to slow her erratic breathing. She wasn’t entirely sure what compelled her to do it. It may have just been morbid curiosity or the hopes that she would find something that would clarify the mysterious conversation she’d just overheard. Her trembling hand reached for the doorknob. It wasn’t locked. The door opened and she walked inside.
Instantly a shudder ran through her as the cold, sour air of the deserted room assaulted her. A small row of dust-covered windows high in the wall let in only the most meager amount of sunlight. Less light was better in such a room, Jane thought grimly. Shadows were somehow less revolting than the macabre array of tables, jars, and implements that she remembered vividly from her first conscious moments in the dank chamber. Her first time in the room, she had not noticed the large glass boxes lining the rear wall. It was hard to imagine what they’d been used for. They certainly didn’t look like anything a respectable doctor would need.
It took a great deal of courage, but she closed the door quietly behind her and walked slowly toward a large wooden counter strewn with books and notes. The end of the counter held several stout, silver-coated jars that were connected by small metal chains.
The script on the parchment in front of her appeared as if it had been scrawled at a feverish pace making the words hard to discern. Jane lifted the first sheet of parchment closer to her face. The date showed that it had been written three years earlier, and it was addressed to no one. On closer inspection it appeared more like a journal entry than a correspondence. The light was poor but with effort she read the words.
“Based solely on the evidence presented by Galvani by which the human muscle can be manipulated with electricity, I, Dr. Colin Van Ostrand, have discovered the means for reanimating the dead flesh of a rat. Storing enough electricity proved to be far more difficult than I’d first thought. Managing and keeping electric fish proved costly, inconvenient, and hazardous. After having the glass tanks constructed, the trouble and expense of keeping them filled with sea water was, in the end, not worth the effort. Keeping the animals alive was nearly impossible. My main motive for deserting the idea of retrieving electric
ity from these electrified monsters of the sea was due to the negative impact on my own health. After suffering numerous accidental jolts of electricity while handling the fish, I began experiencing severe headaches and occasional disorientation. Following one particularly strong jolt, I was rendered unconscious for several hours and woke up face down on the floor of my laboratory. Following that harrowing incident, I resorted to the more primitive but less dangerous rubbing of amber to generate electricity for my Leyden jars.”
Jane laid the parchment back down and stared at it. She knew virtually nothing of science and most of what she had just read seemed like the ramblings of a brilliant yet unstable man. Why would any grown man subject himself to such dangers? And what had the doctor meant by reanimating dead flesh?
Several pieces of the parchment contained amateurish sketches depicting human torsos. One sketch of what was obviously a woman’s naked torso showed two long implements piercing holes beneath the woman’s breasts. The sketch was labeled “entry points for electric probes”. Jane stared at bizarre sketch and reached beneath her own breasts to the place where the two faint, unexplained scars remained. While small and insignificant compared to the scar from her knife wound, they had bothered Angel enough that he’d sent her from his bed.
Jane’s fingers trembled almost uncontrollably as she sifted through the notes finally stopping at one that was labeled female specimen. “The female corpse is a prime experimental specimen, far superior to the giant male whose supreme strength has proven to be a challenge in every aspect.” it read. “She has lost a great deal of blood but the icy grave helped preserve all the blood vessels in her tender, young body. Her heart responded immediately to the electricity.”
A wave of dizziness washed over Jane, and she released the notes she held and clutched the edge of the table for support. The parchment had been folded across the bottom, and as Jane dropped it something slid out from the fold. A shiny gold necklace spilled onto the unorganized pile of paper. A sickening feeling gripped Jane as she reached for the necklace. She’d seen it before. The thin chain dangled from her shaky fingers and the small gold charm at the end turned, catching the faint rays of light as it twisted around. Jane pinched the gold charm between her thumb and forefinger. The name Jane was etched plainly on the smooth gold surface.
The room spun around her. The chain slipped from her hand and pooled on the floor at her feet. She braced herself on the edge of the counter as she stumbled toward the door. Thankfully, she was met by an empty hallway. She didn’t want to see anyone. She never wanted to see any of them again. They were deceitful monsters, all of them . . . and Angel most of all. She raced through the hallway and made it to the stairs before Ellie’s voice called to her from the doorway of the breakfast room.
“Jane, come eat breakfast before it gets cold.”
She didn’t turn to reply and raced up the stairs to her room. She slammed the door shut behind her, leaned back against the solid wood, and closed her eyes. Nothing was at it had seemed. The man she thought she loved was filled with deceit, the good doctor was a mad scientist who experimented with bringing corpses back to life, and she had not survived an attempted murder. She was a murder victim who had been cruelly brought back from death.
Jane lifted her pale, trembling hand and pressed the warm fingertips to her lips. All of it felt so real. She’d felt so alive, so happy, so free during her weeks at Greystock Manor, but it had all been a macabre joke being played out by the most treacherous actors of all time. And all the while, she’d given herself freely to Angel Van Ostrand, playing into his trickery.
All the blood seemed to rush from her head to her feet. She slid down the door, curled into a ball on the floor, and blackness swallowed her.
CHAPTER 29
Angel walked into the kitchen. Ellie looked down forlornly at the potatoes she’d peeled with her knife. She glanced up and forced a small grin. “Master Angel, I didn’t hear you come in. I guess I’m lost in my thoughts this mornin’.”
“I think we all are,” Angel said. “Have you seen Jane? I was certain I’d heard her rustling about her room this morning, but she never came for breakfast. I knocked at her door but there was no answer.”
“I had a rather strange encounter with the girl earlier. She was running up the stairs as if someone was chasing her. I reminded her that breakfast would be cold, but she ignored me and continued up to her room. I haven’t seen her since. She was quite broken up by Zander’s death,” Ellie’s throat seemed to tighten around the words as she spoke. “I think we should just give her some time to recuperate.” Ellie placed the potato on the table and picked up a new one from her basket. “I’ll take a tray up to her later. I nearly forgot— John will be late this morning. His mother needed him to take her to the village.”
“I’ll head out to the stables then,” Angel said. “The horses will be waiting for food.” He walked to the door but stopped. “Take that tray in soon, Ellie. She hasn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon.”
Ellie put down her knife and the potato. She wiped her hands on her apron. “I’ll fix something right now.” She waved him on. “Go feed your horses. I’ll take care of Jane.”
Clouds in the distance were threatening another winter storm. Angel had hoped that the last few clear days had been a signal that the harsh winter was finally ending. The layer of snow on the ground had thinned considerably in the last few days, but a new blanket of frost would soon suffocate any life trying to break free from the frozen earth.
The dreadful events of the previous day, the anger-filled conversation with his father, and an entire morning without Jane had left his spirits low. He’d spent most of the morning devising plans to thwart his father’s scheme. He’d decided that once the time neared he would take Jane south. There was a small town and inn off the main road and they could hide there while Rowntree visited. There was a small chapel in the same town, and Angel hoped that Jane would consider marrying him. He had planned to propose to her yesterday but those plans had been dashed.
Angel could hear the horses paw the ground in agitation as he neared the stables. It was well past their feeding hour. He’d just finished tossing in the last mound of hay when Ellie came running into the barn. She leaned over and braced her hands on her thighs as she struggled to catch her breath.
“What’s wrong?” Angel asked.
Ellie sucked in a large gulp of air and spoke. “I found her on the floor of her room—”
Angel didn’t allow her to finish. He tore past her and ran to the house. He flew up the stairs and threw the door to Jane’s room open. She was sitting on her bed with her face buried in her hands. Her head shot up as he entered. The look in her eyes would be etched permanently in his memory. There was a mixture of confusion, hatred, and anguish in her violet gaze.
“Get out!” she screamed. She stood and backed into the dressing table knocking over the candlestick.
It felt as if someone had stuck a dagger through his chest and then twisted it. He took a cautious step toward her. She fumbled nervously behind her for the upturned candlestick and raised it in her hand. “Don’t come near me,” she said.
“I don’t understand, Jane. What have I done to upset you? I would never hurt you. I love you.” He attempted another step but she lifted her silver weapon higher. Then it slipped through her fingers and landed with a sharp thud dangerously close to her feet. He took another step but she lifted a shaky hand to stop him.
“Please, Angel, get out. Leave me alone.” The pleading tone in her voice tightened the knot that was building in his chest. He stood there a moment longer, but she refused to look at him.
Angel left the room with his mind splintering in every direction. Had Father spoken to her about his experiments just to spite him? Was she still suffering from the shock of watching Zander jump to his death? He headed straight to his father’s room and barged inside.
Father had returned to his bedroom after breakfast, and he now slept soundly. Angel shook him
roughly. His eyes shot open.
“Did you tell Jane?”
He seemed to have trouble focusing on the face in front of him at first. “What are you going on about, Angel?” He pulled out of Angel’s grasp and turned away. “Leave me be. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Did you tell Jane about the experiments?”
Now his question got the old man’s attention. He rolled onto his back. “Of course not. Do you think I’m mad?”
“We’ll leave your questionable sanity out of this for the time being. Jane is extremely distraught almost as if she has discovered the truth about—” Angel stopped. He couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. He’d taken painstaking steps to drive the truth from his thoughts.
“I have told the girl nothing.” Father sat up and reached instantly for his bottle of laudanum. “Let me rest and then I’ll talk to her. She is, no doubt, still upset about yesterday’s unfortunate incident.”
“Unfortunate incident? How I would love to live in your absurdly simple world. Then I too could pretend that all is right with the world.” Angel left the room abruptly. Ellie stood in the hallway listening in at Jane’s door.
“She is still crying,” Ellie whispered.
Angel motioned her to the stairs and they walked down to the drawing room. “You told me she raced past you to her room this morning. Where was she running from?” Angel asked.
“She’d come from this direction. Although, oddly enough, moments before, I’d lit the fires in both the drawing room and the library and I didn’t see her in either. But I’m certain she came from this direction.”
Then it hit him. “Fucking hell.” He headed out of the room and down the hall to his father’s lab.
The door to the laboratory was slightly ajar. Angel pushed it open. He had not stepped in the room since the day he’d carried Jane’s lifeless, frozen body inside. Father’s notes were strewn across the counter as if someone had been sorting through them. He had never been even remotely interested in reading about Dr. Van Ostrand’s scientific theories. His disdain for his father’s research had always overshadowed his curiosity.
