The Dark Between

by Sonia Gensler

  The files were orderly and well marked—Kate had to give Marshall credit for being a tidy madman, at the very least. “We must be careful to put everything back exactly as we found it,” she told Asher. “Someone this organized would notice if anything was amiss, and we don’t want him to be suspicious. He might destroy important information if he thought it had been tampered with.”

  Asher frowned. “But I thought we would take the important evidence with us.”

  “We can take a piece or two, but not too much. Just enough for the police to take us seriously.”

  “And how are we to explain how we came upon this evidence?”

  She thought for a moment. “I’ll tell them Billy stole it and gave it to me for safekeeping.”

  They found Marshall’s files from his student days at the bottom of the cabinet. But when Kate opened the first file, Asher shook his head. “They’re just papers written for tutors,” he said. “Can’t imagine you’ll find much there.”

  Kate moved on to his collection of published articles, carefully dividing them and giving half to Asher before she settled into reading. With all the unfamiliar words and complex sentences, it certainly wasn’t easy going. She couldn’t contain a gasp, however, when she found an article with electrotherapy in the title.

  Asher nudged her. “What is it?”

  She glanced over the first paragraph. “I can’t make much sense of this one, but I think it’s about epilepsy.” She held up the pages for Asher to see. “Is that similar to Elsie’s condition?”

  He took the article and paged through it. “This is pretty interesting,” he said after a moment. “Marshall writes that epileptic states can be triggered in subjects using a pulsating current of electricity.” He paused to read silently.

  Kate shifted her feet impatiently. “Well?”

  “Hold on. I just to need to make sure I understand this.” After another maddening pause, he set the article down and met her gaze. “It’s a study on the application of electric shock within a controlled environment. At a certain voltage, the subjects suffered convulsions and stopped breathing. But when the voltage was decreased, respiration was reestablished. At that point the subjects would fall into a profound sleep, proving unresponsive to pain stimulus. When the current was switched off, however, the subjects woke normally.”

  “My God, that sounds barbaric! Is that what Marshall tried to do to Billy? He must have started the convulsions but failed to bring him back.”

  Asher handed the article back to her. “I can’t say. All these studies were performed on dogs and rabbits. Marshall is just reporting on the work of a French researcher.”

  Kate slumped. “Still, it’s something. Keep looking.”

  In the uppermost drawer on the right side of the cabinet, she found a plump portfolio marked Research. The first item was an article for the Metaphysical Society Journal entitled “Subliminal Self.” Following it were dozens of pages of handwritten notes.

  “This looks promising.” She handed Asher the article.

  “Do you recognize the handwriting in those notes?” he asked. “Is it the same from the pages Billy had?”

  She studied the neat script. “I only saw those pages for a few minutes, but it could be the same hand.”

  He read the article silently for a moment. “This is the theory Marshall outlined very briefly at the Thompsons’ dinner that night—the notion of accessing latent abilities. There’s nothing about electric shock here.”

  “These look to be notes from interviews.” Kate scanned the first interview. “Listen to this—this first subject was an ordinary man who never before displayed any musical talent, but after a severe electrical shock he could play the piano as if he’d been trained for years.”

  “Did Marshall administer the shock?”

  Kate read back through the details. “No, it was an accident—the man worked with high-voltage transmission lines. It’s a miracle he survived.”

  “What else is there?”

  She paged through. “Here’s a woman who was thrown from a horse, struck her head on a tree, and upon recovery found herself able to speak a foreign language.” She flipped more pages. “And here’s one who claimed the ability to communicate with spirits after a brain injury, but Marshall has written ‘known charlatan’ at the bottom of the page.”

  “Can you find any mention of experimentation?”

  She continued to flip pages. “It’s just a series of interviews. There’s nothing about Billy or Tec here. Nothing about the old lab or that vagrant found on the cricket grounds.” She sighed. “He’s even collected notes from other books—stories of people long dead, but he’s noted the details of the ‘gift’ each person received after a brush with death.”

  “Search through the rest and let me know what you find.” He handed the “Subliminal Self” article back to her. “Return this to the file, and I’ll search the next folder.”

  She did as told, paging carefully through the accounts and pausing to reread when Marshall had penciled margin notes like “plausible” or “story confirmed by medical professional.” At the end was a single sheet of paper with a few additional scribbled notes. She took it out and set the folder on the floor. The very first line set her heart racing.

  Possible to safely induce mind-altering effects of near-death experience?

  Mesmerism disappointing.

  Nitrous proves mind-expanding, inspires epiphanies, but effects are temporary and exact nature of epiphany is forgotten.

  In small doses, chloroform separates the mind from the body and heightens awareness—

  A curious rattling noise drew her eyes from the page. It took her a moment to comprehend the sounds of a key being inserted into a lock and a knob turning. She turned to Asher, whose eyes widened.

  “It’s the outer door.” He scooped up the folder and returned it to the cabinet.

  “But I just found what we needed!” Kate folded the page and shoved it into her trouser pocket. “What do we do?”

  “Lock the cabinet!”

  There was no time to extinguish the lamp. No time to hide. All they could do was stand in the center of the room and look foolish as the innermost door opened.

  Philip Marshall stood in the entry, eyes wide and mouth gaping.

  “What the devil is going on here?”

  Chapter 35

  Elsie unlocked the side door and slipped out into the darkness, sidestepping the gravel path to run through the soft, damp grass. Her corset pinched her like a vise and the camera thumped against her hip, but she paused only long enough to catch her breath before pressing forward.

  She slowed her pace when the white door of the old lab came into view. As she drew near, she studied the windows in the moonlight. All seemed dark and quiet.

  She pulled the key from her pocket. Tucking the electric torch under her arm, she felt under the doorknob until she located the keyhole. The key slipped in and turned without effort.

  She froze at a sound from within.

  A low voice murmured. She couldn’t make out the words, but the voice seemed calm. Then it fell silent.

  Holding her breath, she slowly turned the key back and pulled it out. She waited to hear movement toward the door, bracing herself for a desperate sprint back to the Gatehouse. The voice came again, still calm. Heart pounding, she took three steps back.

  Nothing happened.

  Elsie turned around. A light shone in the sitting room window of the Gatehouse, beckoning her toward safety. The prospect of returning to her room and locking the door was tempting, but the thought of Kate and Asher reminded her to be brave.

  She stepped softly around the building to the side window Kate had tried to open before Uncle caught them. Elsie had never asked if she’d managed to unlock it. Laying the torch on the ground, she reached up and tentatively pressed on the wood frame until it shifted upward an inch. She applied more pressure, praying for it not to make a sound. Inch by inch she lifted the window.

  When she
reached in to part the curtain, a sliver of light shone through. Was it enough light for a photograph?

  Perhaps not a good one, but if she held the camera perfectly still she might capture the culprit on film. Elsie breathed deeply to steady herself. Asher and Kate were taking a terrible risk this night. She must draw strength from their example. Releasing a final breath of air, she retrieved the camera from the bag and extended the lens as quietly as she could. Then she guided it until the lens barely poked through the curtain. Steadying the camera on the windowsill, she held her breath and activated the shutter.

  The click seemed to echo all around her. She steeled herself, but the silence continued. Weak with relief, she slowly slid the camera back through the window and folded it shut. The photograph might turn out dark and blurred, but at least she’d tried. Now she just had to get safely back to her room. She placed the camera back in the bag and gently lowered it to the weeds.

  Just as she began to close the window panel, the voice came again. This time she could discern most of the words.

  “You must wait exactly one minute … before you apply … second. Do you understand?”

  Her pulse leapt. I know that voice.

  She parted the curtain and peered through. In the flickering lamplight she could see the cabinets of specimens and scientific instruments lining the walls. But a far more arresting sight took away the breath she’d finally managed to control—a bare-chested man lay sideways on a table, propped on an elbow.

  Simon Wakeham.

  That wasn’t the strangest thing. She swallowed a cry when she saw who stood near him, his hand on the induction coil. It was the dark-haired boy from last night’s vision—the one who’d said his name was Thomas. The one Kate called Tec.

  She’d seen him in the spirit world. He was dead. How could he be standing there in the old lab?

  Elsie heard a click, then a low whir. She watched as Tec pulled two paddles from the induction coil toward Simon’s chest. Then he placed a wooden bar between the young man’s teeth and pushed him back until he lay flat upon the table. Simon nodded and closed his eyes.

  No.

  She knew what Tec was about to do. No matter how Simon had offended her, she couldn’t stand by and watch this. She must take Tec by surprise—distract him or throw him off balance somehow.

  Elsie snatched the electric torch from the ground and edged around the corner of the building, coming to a halt by the door. She inserted the key and turned it slowly until the bolt retracted. Pocketing the key, she eased the door open and braced herself to rush upon Tec, fully intending to slam the torch at his head with all her might.

  But she stopped dead at the sight of Simon’s body convulsing as though a puppet string jerked him upward. Elsie could only stare in mute horror as he writhed. Finally Tec pulled the lever and Simon’s body ceased its unnatural jerking.

  Something in her brain snapped then, and the torch fell from her hand as she stumbled across the room, shoving Tec aside and grasping Simon’s arm. He lay utterly still, his lower lip drooping under the bar in his mouth. His chest did not move.

  “No, no, no,” she groaned, touching his face and feeling the softness of his still-warm flesh. She leaned down, putting her ear by his mouth and then his chest.

  He wasn’t breathing.

  She turned to Tec. “What have you done?”

  The strange boy merely lifted a hand, palm facing her, and moved it as though he pushed her. He’d not actually touched her body. Nevertheless, Elsie reeled backward from some invisible force and fell hard to the floor.

  Fear and rage battled within her, but Tec’s face remained infuriatingly blank as he took a watch from his pocket and studied it. She glanced again at Simon’s limp body. His right hand lay palm up, fingers extended.

  She crawled toward him.

  Let me go there. She reached up to grasp his hand. Let me be with him.

  I want to fall.

  Elsie gasped when that strange thread pulled at her spine and the spasm of nausea gripped her gut. She gave herself to the dark between, falling through the black spiral and the bone-chilling cold without fear. When the spinning, sucking sensation finally came to an end, she opened her eyes.

  Simon stood before her, pale and blinking. Tec lingered in the shadows behind him.

  Elsie took a step toward him. “Simon?”

  He rubbed his eyes. “What’s happened?”

  “He’s killed you.”

  Simon glanced to the side, as though considering this. “My God, I think he has.” His voice registered surprise rather than horror.

  “But … why?”

  He looked around him, his eyes wide with wonder, before turning back to her.

  “Because I told him to.”

  Chapter 36

  Asher took a breath, thinking to somehow explain, to apologize, to say something that would get them away safely, but all that issued from his mouth was a rush of voiceless air.

  His paralysis continued until the silence became oppressive, and still Philip Marshall didn’t speak. Did he suspect what they were after? Surely he wouldn’t do away with them in his own rooms at Trinity. If Kate still had her knife, it was possible they could fend him off—

  “Mr. Beale,” said Dr. Marshall, “I thought you’d returned to Summerfield, and yet here I find you in my rooms.”

  Asher swallowed, determined to speak.

  No words came.

  Marshall’s narrow-eyed gaze moved from him to Kate. “And with a girl, I see. Certainly hadn’t pegged you for such a precocious fellow. Did you sneak her in here? She’s a bit young for this, isn’t she?”

  Kate stiffened next to him. “I’m his sister.”

  Marshall grunted. “My dear, you look nothing like him and, moreover, you do not share a surname. We’ve already met, remember? Last Sunday on Queen’s Road. I never forget faces.” He turned to Asher. “And I hope you’d never allow any sister of yours to run about in the dark of night—in a laborer’s trousers, no less. Just how did you get in here?”

  Asher plundered his imagination for a reasonable answer, but his mind was a vast, empty chamber in which the words precocious fellow echoed. So he wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers and put an arm around Kate. “I just wanted time alone with her.” He pulled her closer, praying she wouldn’t protest. “I wished to impress her with your fine lodgings. It was easy enough to sneak her into the college, and I picked the lock on your door.”

  He didn’t dare look at Kate.

  Marshall’s gaze was direct and assessing, but Asher refused to waver. After a moment the man’s grim mouth softened. “There’s more fire in you than I thought. Quite a bold maneuver to impress a girl.”

  Asher relaxed a fraction. “I never meant for you to find out, of course. I thought you were in London at the Metaphysical Society meeting.”

  Marshall grimaced. “Wakeham never showed up, and I wasn’t about to linger. I usually stay at my club in London, but it seemed easier to take the late train back. My next lecture needs preparing, and all my research is here.”

  “We’ll be on our way, then. I beg your pardon, sir. I do hope you’ll forgive this tremendous breach—”

  “Yes, yes.” Marshall waved away Asher’s apologies. “This sort of behavior will stand you in good stead with the Trinity boys next fall, but for your own sake I recommend more self-restraint. Make sure you see her safely to her door, and do not let Helena Thompson find you lurking about together. She’ll ship you back to your father before you can take a breath.”

  “Yes sir. Thank you, sir.” Asher steered Kate toward the door.

  “Don’t forget your lovely adornment, my dear.” Marshall tossed the cap, which Kate neatly caught in one hand. “See you next fall, Beale.”

  They made their way down the staircase in silence, Asher’s heart still thudding at the memory of Marshall’s face when he opened the door. He’d never felt so close to danger in his life. What if Marshall hadn’t leapt to the wrong conclusion? What if
he’d pulled out a knife … or a gun? He and Kate were fools for never considering how to protect themselves.

  He turned to her. “Are you all right?”

  “I think so,” she whispered, twisting her hair and stuffing it back in the cap. “That was awfully close.”

  “You said you found something.”

  “I kept one page of scribbled notes. You took the folder before I could return it.”

  His heart leapt again. “Is it enough for the police?”

  Kate reached into her pocket and drew out the folded piece of paper. “I didn’t have a chance to finish reading, but these are notes about inducing near-death experiences. There’s bits about mesmerism, nitrous, and even chloroform—that’s what killed my father, you know.”

  Asher held out his hand. “Let me see.”

  “But it’s dark!”

  “I have matches in my pocket. We have good cover here, and no one seems to be about. I need to see this before we leave, Kate.”

  Once the paper was in his hand, he struck a match on his shoe and read quickly.

  Possible to safely induce mind-altering effects of near-death experience?

  Mesmerism disappointing.

  Nitrous proves mind-expanding, inspires epiphanies, but effects are temporary and exact nature of epiphany is forgotten.

  In small doses, chloroform separates the mind from the body and heightens awareness—but larger doses lead to unconsciousness. Overdose is fatal—remember Stanton.

  Fibrillation and defibrillation conducted on animals—too dangerous with humans.

  Refinement of apparatus possible, but ethical considerations overwhelming.

  He reread the last two sentences aloud, tossing the match when it burned his finger. “You didn’t read to the end, Kate.”

  “I didn’t have time.”

  “Well, he seems far too cautious to undertake the kind of experiment we imagined.”

  “Sounds like he was strongly against hurting anybody, much less killing them,” Kate muttered.