“Mmm.” He did have a point. We sat in companionable silence, each happily finishing off our slices. It was nice, having him here at night, sitting together and doing something as mundane as indulging in a late-night treat. He finished his piece and stared longingly as I savored my last two bites. If the devil thought he was getting any of my cake, he was sadly mistaken. I was most unladylike as I licked my fork clean of icing. His dark gaze was suddenly entranced by the motion and I realized my misstep. My cheeks pinked.
“Why did you really take me to see that show tonight?” I asked, handing him my empty plate. “It wasn’t simply for the Tesla coil, was it?”
“In truth?” Thomas stacked our dishes and set them on my nightstand. “I wanted you to see Mephisto again. Especially after everything that happened with my father and Miss Whitehall. I—” He glanced at his empty ring finger almost ruefully. “I’d heard he was here and didn’t wish to keep it from you.”
I narrowed my eyes. “And?”
“You’re really getting quite good at reading me, Wadsworth. Too good.” He leaned against the wooden headboard, smiling. “He still has feelings for you. That much is plainly obvious. I hoped he might be swayed to at least listen for any news about murders. He’s got eyes and ears all over the lowly parts of the city. If anyone might know anything, much as I loathe to admit it, it’s him.”
“I see. So you decided to use me as bait in your little scheme? Your romantic gestures truly are something to behold, Cresswell. Be careful. You might kill me from swooning so hard.”
His gaze swept from my crossed arms to my turned-down mouth. It didn’t take his skill in deductions to figure out how annoyed I was. He held his hands up. “The main reason was to show you the Tesla coil. I know how much you wished to see Tesla perform it himself. I won’t deny the added bonus of speaking with Mephisto about the case and seeing if he could assist.” Thomas inched closer. “Trust me, I don’t want to be selfless. Not with you. But I’ll always stand aside so you have the space to make your own choices.”
The sincerity in his voice and his expression softened my ire. He had much to learn about partnership and going about things in a more respectable manner, but he loved me enough to try.
“No more schemes unless I’m part of them, agreed?” He nodded. “Do you believe Mephistopheles will really involve himself in this? He didn’t seem likely to, given how quickly he kicked us out once we’d asked.”
Thomas held the covers up, an invitation to my own bed. I stared at the spot, pulse trickling into a flood of emotions. He didn’t move, nor did he pressure me in any way to join him. He kept his focus on me, waiting to see if I decided to snuggle beside him.
“Thomas…”
“If you want me to leave, I will. No questions or guilt.”
He made to get up, but I placed my hand on his arm, stalling his movement. I bit my lip, glancing around the empty room. I told myself we were mature enough to handle snuggling next to each other, and without further hesitation, I crawled into bed beside him. He carefully tucked us both in, his attention so palpable I swore it undressed me by itself.
This was a dangerous game we were playing. He’d need to be up and in his own room before the maid came in to light the fire. Or before Uncle called on us.
“Didn’t you notice him whistle?” he asked, changing the subject.
I blinked, trying to focus on something more important than my raging heartbeat. Or the curve of Thomas’s treacherous mouth when he noticed my attention on it.
“Of course I noticed. He nearly made my eardrums burst with all the racket.” I rubbed my ear as if I could still hear the phantom ringing. “He was calling for a carriage.”
“Oh?” Thomas drew closer. His warmth was much more enticing than any fire. I nestled against him, relishing the total calm. “Was that what he was doing? Strange, since I’d instructed our coachman to wait in that alley for us. Stranger still that when he went back inside, someone else slipped in behind him.”
My pulse picked up speed that had a little to do with our conversation. I was recalling the way it had felt when Thomas lightly pressed his lips to the sensitive skin at my throat. And how much I longed for him to do it again. It was becoming harder to concentrate with him so near. “You believe he’ll inquire around for us, despite his protests?”
Thomas played with the ribbons on my nightgown, his gaze fixed on mine. “Not for us. For you. I expect we’ll hear from him once he’s done his own snooping.”
He took hold of one ribbon, slowly pulling it free. I wasn’t sure what he was distracting me from. Maybe he simply couldn’t hold himself back any longer, either. Perhaps we were both tired of fighting against our wicked hearts. He waited, ever a gentleman in this one area, for me to change my mind. No matter that we had shared a bed before; he would ask permission each time. Perhaps it was his consideration, or perhaps it was my own desire, but I moved my shoulder, allowing my nightgown to slip down and expose a swath of skin, successfully reigniting the fire in his gaze. I should tell him to go. To sleep in his own chambers. To stop this devilish pursuit until we were both free to do as we wanted, whenever we wanted.
We were being reckless with our hearts and it would only lead to breaking them further. He needed to leave at once. Instead, I unbuttoned his shirt.
I was no devil, but I never claimed to be an angel, either.
“Now, I recall a discussion regarding another adventure.” He brought his mouth to mine, soft, teasing, and wholly intoxicating. “Before we left for the play, you seemed to want—”
“—you, Thomas.”
I pulled him to me, silencing him with a kiss. He needed no further instruction or permission. Tonight was about forgetting the rules. There was no right or wrong. Nothing but the two of us, giving into our base desires. He had us both out of our clothes faster and more efficiently than any sorcerer casting a spell.
“Audrey Rose.”
He whispered across my skin, murmuring my name until I lost all sense of time and place. I gripped him, never wishing for us to part. I’d choose Hell each time if it meant experiencing this feeling with him. This euphoria. I refused to think of darkness and evil deeds.
Tonight I’d focus on the way our bodies created the closest thing to Heaven I could imagine here on earth. I’d tried doing the correct thing: I’d pushed him away and my heart had torn in two. I was tired of denying what felt right. He and I were two pieces of our own private puzzle—we fit together perfectly.
If that made us wicked, wanton things, so be it. I gladly accepted my fate.
THIRTY-FOUR
WICKED SOULS
THE CENTRAL DEPOT
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
12 FEBRUARY 1889
Noah eyed the journals piled on our table, brow raised. Mine were stacked neatly before me, while Thomas’s were in haphazard heaps, ready to topple over if he so much as sneezed. Noah shook his head. “I was hoping you two might be able to talk out some of these facts with me.”
I shifted my attention to a satchel he’d tucked under an arm. Crinkled papers poked out from the top end, trying to escape the volume he’d stuffed into the small leather case. I glanced at Thomas. If we didn’t convince Uncle we were in the right city hunting the real Jack the Ripper, we’d be on a train for New York before we could blink.
“Noah, I’m sorry. We’d assist if we could; it’s just”—I motioned to the disarray around us—“we’re buried at the moment.”
Thomas set his text down. The challenge of solving another mystery was too alluring for him, it seemed. He held his hand out. “What have you got?”
“Not a lot of facts, but a lot of chaos.” Noah grinned as he rushed around the table, pulling notes out and scattering them like entrails. I went back to my own task, ignoring the twinge of worry that we were doomed to let the Ripper slip away once again. “Mr. Cigrande says the devil took his daughter, right? That demons sneak around, capturing women as prey. It sounds like the rantings of a madman, until you
notice this.” Curious, I glanced up as he pushed a newspaper toward Thomas. “Here’s another woman. Missing. Same age and appearance as Miss Cigrande.” He pulled another paper. “And this woman. And another. Every week, multiple women are reported missing to the police, but nothing’s being done.”
Thomas read the papers, frowning. “You said Mr. Cigrande claimed to witness the devil or a demon abduct a woman?”
“Yes.” Noah nodded, swallowing hard. “He said he saw a devil coax a young woman into a streetcar, took a package she was carrying, acted like a gentleman.”
“I imagine that’s true.” Thomas pushed his chair back, the limbs screeching over the hardwood. He walked to the fire, staring blankly into it. It was fitting, watching him get lost within an inferno while speaking of capturing the devil.
Fully intrigued with this new mystery, I leaned across the table. If there were a large number of missing women, we might have finally located a connection to our crimes. Maybe the Ripper was involved. Perhaps either his tactics had changed—as we’d feared earlier—or he was getting better at hiding the bodies. “Would you mind if I took a look at that?”
“Not at all,” Noah said, sounding relieved. “Any help or ideas you can offer will be greatly useful. I can’t, for the life of me, figure out where to search next.”
I rummaged through the leather satchel, which contained page after page of reports of missing women. My blood chilled. There were nearly a dozen families begging Chicago to help find their daughters and wives.
“The police haven’t investigated any of these?” I asked, flipping through more documents.
“Not a one of them.” Noah shook his head. “Mr. Cigrande, mad as he may seem, marched himself into our agency, demanding we find his daughter. Then he started in with the demon-snatching nonsense, but with a little poking around, it doesn’t seem so far-fetched.”
A demon might not be truly stalking the Chicago streets for prey, but a different sort of monster was.
“Radu.” Thomas abruptly faced us, his jaw set.
Noah and I exchanged worried glances. Perhaps Thomas needed to get some rest—he’d been under severe stress and it was obviously affecting his senses.
“He was an interesting man,” I said. It was a kindness, really. Professor Radu had been our folklore instructor back at the forensics academy in Romania. He’d filled our heads with stories of vampires and werewolves—legends and myths he claimed weren’t strictly fantasy. Why in the name of the queen Thomas was thinking of him at a time such as this was beyond me. Though, knowing him, he had his reasons. “I thought you were considering the missing women. How does Radu fit in?”
“Fantastical stories about horrific events take a person out of their terror—they’re removed from it—therefore, we must pay close attention to the monsters he describes. They aren’t fantasy at all.” Thomas picked his cloak up from the back of his chair and addressed Noah. “I need to speak with Mr. Cigrande myself. Will you take us to him?”
Mr. Cigrande was hunched against the wind, his ungloved hands raw and cracked as he shook his bell at young women exiting the train depot. “Go back to your homes, heathens! The devil is coming for you! Run! Run while you’re still able!”
The constant clanging of the bell was bringing on a massive headache and the icy wind whipping down the avenue wasn’t helping to alleviate my growing discomfort. I held on to Thomas with one hand and my cane with the other while Noah walked along beside us.
“Let’s inquire about a demon, shall we?” I asked.
Thomas’s mouth quirked, but he didn’t entertain me or Noah with any of his usual wit. His mind was now fully engaged in solving this new mystery. I could only hope it would unlock another clue for us as well. There had to be a connection to these cases.
Noah made his way to Mr. Cigrande first, waving as we all gathered around him. “Mr. Cigrande, I’d like to introduce you to—”
“Heathens!” The poor man shivered in place. “I won’t talk to wicked souls.”
“These wicked souls are good with locating impossible clues. If you’d like a better shot at finding your daughter, you’ll reconsider,” Noah said, his tone sharpening. “It might behoove you to speak with them.”
Mr. Cigrande cast a suspicious look our way. I mentally counted to five; poking him with my cane wouldn’t solve my problem of being deemed a heathen. I looked about for a way to get us all off the street, away from distractions. A sign fashioned to look like a teapot hung from the awning of one business. I pulled my shoulders back, adopting my best posture for my best attempt at soothing him.
“Would you like to speak someplace warm? There’s a little tearoom just over there.” I nodded two doors down, saying prayers of thanks for the establishment being so close. “They advertise melted chocolate and milk. Might be fortifying if you’ve planned a long afternoon of…”
I bit my lip, at a loss for how to describe his screaming at young women. Blessedly, Mother Nature aided our endeavor by opening up the skies, shaking snow and bits of ice out of the clouds. Cold, miserable, and now wet, Mr. Cigrande grudgingly followed us into the warm tearoom. Freshly baked scones and buttery scents welcomed us in from the cold. I had no sooner inhaled the aroma when Thomas marched over to a glass display filled with tarts and tea cakes.
“Once you’ve finished your unholy flirtation with the dessert, you can join us at our table, Cresswell.”
“Don’t be jealous, my love. I assure you, nothing tastes as sweet as you.”
His eyes flashed with amusement while I did my best imitation of Mr. Cigrande and cursed him under my breath. I quickly ushered Noah and Mr. Cigrande to a table in the corner, hoping we’d be far enough away from any poor, unsuspecting patrons who’d be harassed by either a religious zealot or my fiendish Thomas.
A few servers came to our table and offered choices of hot and cold breakfast items along with cake and biscuits and all manner of curds and puddings. I snagged a few pieces of bacon, an orange, and a soda scone. It truly was a treat to enjoy an orange during this season. I didn’t know how they’d managed to get such fruit but was immensely grateful for their magic. Another server presented a chocolate pot for the table and I quickly nodded, my mouth watering for the richness of melted chocolate and frothy milk. Thomas wasn’t the only one who enjoyed sweets.
“I’d like to know about the demons,” Thomas said bluntly once he’d sat down. He popped a berry into his mouth, then poured some hot chocolate into his cup. “What do you recall of them?”
“Them?” Mr. Cigrande stared at Thomas as if he’d escaped from an asylum. “What them? I only saw one demon. And seeing one demon is enough for anyone.”
“Apologies,” Thomas said. “Describe the demon to me. Try and recall every detail, even the smallest.”
Mr. Cigrande held fast to his mug of hot chocolate, his expression wary. “He looked like a regular man. A young man. Handsome, like you, but not in the way Lucifer is usually described in scripture. His eyes, though. They was something. That’s how I knew he was a demon.”
Noah drew in a breath but remained silent as Thomas subtly shook his head. “What about his eyes let you know his true self?”
Mr. Cigrande stared into his drink, mouth drawn into a frown. Without his bell and anger, he appeared to be a man who had as many wrinkles as gray hairs. He was worn and frail, his face covered in white whiskers. Much less imposing than he seemed while hollering at passersby.
“When he looked at me?” he said, meeting each of our gazes. “It was like staring into the eyes of a dead man. It’s cold out, but those eyes…” He huddled into his coat. “They sent shivers down my back. They were like blades. Like he could see every thought in my head and knew exactly how to cut them outta me.”
“Hmm. I bet his eyes were as pale as the ocean,” Thomas said, doing that unnerving thing where he was now half in the mind of the so-called demon and half reading the impossible clues no one else bothered seeing.
Mr. Cigrande startled
back from the table. “How did you know?”
“Are light blue eyes the best way to spot a demon?” Thomas asked, not delving into the complicated science of his deductions.
“Not just a demon,” Mr. Cigrande said. “The devil himself. Only a creature of Hell could tempt those poor girls away.” He shook his head, the color in his face flushing brighter. “I watched him for a bit, you know. Once I knew what he was. I watched him real close.” He leaned across the table, glancing about the bustling tearoom. “He doesn’t act like no demon; that’s for sure. When he stole that last girl’s soul? He seemed as angelic as anything. Asking if she needed help, if she was new to the city. He preys on the wayward ones. The wanton ones who’ve left God and their families. They’re easy pickin’. That’s why I try and scare them away.”
“Do you believe good women who stay in their homes and memorize their scripture are safe from the devil?” Thomas asked. His eyes flicked to mine, silently asking for me to hold my tongue. I was more than happy to allow him the pleasure of having this conversation on his own. “The wicked are the only ones in danger?”
“Don’t be crazy,” the old man said. “Why would the wicked ones be in danger? They’s already wicked.” He folded and unfolded his napkin. “Women are safe at home. They can be watched after, cared for. They don’t know what sort of sins await them in the world. The devil don’t want the bad ones, mister. The devil wants to collect ’em before they turn wicked on their own. He needs ’em good. Otherwise, what’s there to corrupt?”
“And the demons? What do they want?”
“To take more souls to the devil. They want to please him so he doesn’t do his nasty tricks on them.”
“What sort of nasty tricks do you believe he’s doing?” I asked. “Aside from stealing them.”
“What else?” Mr. Cigrande shifted in his seat, facing me. “He brings them to his castle in Hell and they never return.”
Noah sent Mr. Cigrande home with promises to call on him the moment he discovered any news of his missing daughter. Thomas and I climbed into our carriage, and while we waited for our friend to join us, Thomas arranged the heating brick so I could rest my leg upon it.
Capturing the Devil Page 24
