by Kate Danley
She heard a great crash and a sound like the servant was falling down the flight of stairs. Moments after the crash, she could hear feet pounding down the stairway.
She grabbed the heart and she ran, opening up the rusted door of the service entrance, and out to freedom.
20
A hansom cab was just turning the corner as she ran out to the street. She hailed it desperately and did not even let it fully stop before she leapt in. She shouted at the driver. "Go! Swiftly! Go!"
She peered out of the window and saw Phineas Stokeman run out of the house in hot pursuit. He looked right and then looked left, but then caught Clara's eye before she was able to duck out of sight. He furiously searched for another cab to follow her, but the street was empty.
The horse's feet clomped on the cobble stone at a brisk pace. Clara tapped the roof of the cab and a small window opened. A tall, gaunt looking man with a shock of red hair beneath a black top hat, a red mustache, and friendly, but concerned, brown eyes peered down at her.
"Thank you, driver," Clara said.
"Sure thing, ma'am. Seems you're in a bit of a hurry," he said in a lilting brogue.
"Indeed," she replied, catching her breath. "It is a matter of the utmost importance." She gave him the address for Dr. Van Flemming and added, "If you can get me there with haste, I promise that you shall be well rewarded."
"Very good, misses," he said. "You can count on me." Clara felt the cab lurch as he quickened his horse's pace.
Now that she was out of danger, she relaxed her fingers and looked down at object she clutched in her hand. How strange that this small, insignificant lump once kept a queen alive, that even now it contained vestiges of her power. She took her handkerchief out of her pocket and wrapped the dried, petrified heart in it, before placing it in her pocket.
The cab finally pulled up in front of Dr. Van Flemming's residence. Clara exited and paid generously for her trip. Then she added more and said, "I need you to go to the house of Mr. Wesley Lowenherz." She pulled out a scrap of paper and a pencil and wrote it down for the cab driver. "Bring him here immediately. Do not leave until he is in your company. Tell him that Clara is in desperate need and requires his presence. Tell him it is a matter of life and death."
The cab driver shifted uncomfortably. "Are you sure you don't want me to get a constable, misses?"
Clara shook her head. "I'm afraid that this matter is far beyond the jurisdiction of the police."
"That seems like a dangerous matter for a woman such as yourself to have to face alone."
She placed her hand upon the arm of the kind cab driver. "I am afraid my course is quite set. The greatest aid you can render me in my hour of need is to fetch Mr. Lowenherz with all possible speed."
The cab driver tipped his hat. "Very well, misses." He gave the reins a smart flick and with an authoritative, "Git up!" he and his cab were careening down the street.
Clara hoped that it would be fast enough. She turned back to the house. The front door was ajar. Her spirit was filled with foreboding. There was no way that Phineas could have arrived before her, but something struck her as amiss. She hoped it was merely the residual effects of the day's excitement and her mind playing tricks on her.
She raced up the walk to the front door and knocked. "Hello?" she called as she entered.
"HELP!" came a strangled reply.
Clara dashed in. There was the sound of crashing furniture.
"Get away from me, you fiend!" Dr. Van Flemming bellowed and then there was the sound of something striking a wall and then crashing glass.
Clara looked around the hallway for something to defend herself. She grabbed an umbrella and opened the door to Dr. Van Flemming's study.
Pauline was blocking the door with her body. As she heard the door open, she turned, and flew to attack Clara.
If Clara had not faced this before, she would probably have been frozen in fear. Pauline's eyes were red, her canines were lengthened, her fingernails now points, just like Violet. But Clara had fought this monster before, and so she swung the umbrella with fierce determination, striking Pauline across the temple.
Pauline staggered to the side, more from surprise than any sort of injury.
"Come!" Clara called to Dr. Van Flemming, motioning for him to make a run to the door.
"I cannot leave my work!" he shouted. "I will not let this creature destroy my studies!"
Pauline hissed and raced, claws out, to rip Dr. Van Flemming to shreds. Dr. Van Flemming picked up his beautiful globe and hurled it at Pauline, striking her in the stomach and knocking her down.
"There is no time!" Clara shouted. "We must unite the heart with the mummy!"
Her words had the opposite effect than intended. Pauline gave a howl and raced towards Clara. She screamed animalistically, "You shall never trap me again!"
"We wish you only eternal rest!" shouted back Clara, trying to step to the side as Pauline ran at her and strike her again with the umbrella. But Pauline grabbed Clara's arm and threw her across the room. With a sharp pain, Clara's injured ankle gave way again and she fell to the ground. Pauline was at once upon her, trying to bite at Clara's skin. Clara pressed her forearm against Pauline's neck and managed to keep her gnashing teeth at bay.
Dr. Van Flemming was at once behind the struggling women and grabbed Pauline by the shoulders, flinging her away. He held out his hand to Clara. She gripped it tightly and rose to her feet.
The door suddenly opened and there was Wesley. "This way!" he cried.
Dr. Van Flemming and Clara raced out the door. Wesley pulled it shut. Immediately, there was a slam as Pauline threw her body against the door. Wesley grabbed the umbrella from Clara and thrust it through the door handles to the room. The doors began to bulge dangerously as Pauline tried to yank the door open from the inside.
"It won't hold for long," Wesley observed, the umbrella bending and cracking.
Clara pulled the heart out of her pocket. "I have the heart," she said. "We must reunite it with the mummy.”
Dr. Van Flemming nodded, pulling his keys out of his pocket and fumbling for the right one to the lock. The door was opened and they raced down the stairs.
The mummy's room was bathed in an unnatural light. All four doors to the room were open.
"I closed all of these," said Dr. Van Flemming. "Who has been down here?"
"No one," Clara remarked. She and Wesley looked at one another, remembering the last time they experienced this magic.
A low fog hung on the ground and the sarcophagus gave off an unearthly blue glow.
"Right. What do we do now?" Wesley asked Clara.
"Dr. Van Flemming? Any ideas?"
He hemmed and hawed. "I have never dealt with anything like this. I have never experienced anything like women attacking me and people thinking that mummies…"
"Yes! YES!" said Clara. "We understand! You don't think any of this is real. That is fine. How do we get this heart inside of that mummy and stop the curse?"
He was quite taken aback. "I suppose we should first open the sarcophagus…"
Clara pushed both he and Wesley towards it. "Do it!" she said.
They both ran over and leaned heavily upon the lid.
"It is too heavy," said Wesley. "The gold in the lid is impossible to move."
"Wait!" said Dr. Van Flemming. "I have a lever!" He ran out of the room.
"Come back!" shouted Clara. "It is not safe!"
But her words were too late. Dr. Van Flemming backed fearfully into the room. Walking through the door was Phineas Stokeman, leading Pauline like a master with a well-heeled dog. Her hair was wild, her eyes mad, her face cracked into a leering smile.
"I foolishly thought that we perhaps might not have an opportunity to spend more time in one another's company,” said Phineas. “How kind of you, all of you, to all come."
Wesley backed away, shielding Clara with his body. "What is it that you want?"
Phineas pointed his finger at Clara. "On
ly her. And her heart."
"I am afraid they are both spoken for," Wesley replied.
"Such the hero, aren't you?" Phineas laughed. "Always pretending to be something you are not. Did you think you actually fooled me into thinking you were a medium, Mr. Lowenherz? What an embarrassing display of smoke and mirrors you brought to my home the other night. But all was not a loss. You introduced me to Mrs. O'Hare, a most fascinating woman."
"So fascinating…" Pauline hissed, licking her lips hungrily.
"She is the 'real deal', as the children are wont to say. Able to see beyond the grave and ever so clever. I had quite underestimated our young widow."
"Leave us in peace," Clara said, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. "We have no argument with you."
"But my dear, you are one of the finest specimens of womanhood I have ever encountered. What a mind in that pretty little head of yours! Here I have been wasting my time trying to raise the dead, forcing them to do my bidding, when you had a direct connection and are able to invite them over to tea!"
"That is not true!" said Clara. "I do not have the gifts you say I have!"
"Oh, yes, my dear," he replied. "You do."
Dr. Van Flemming interrupted them, perhaps in sincerity, perhaps thinking he could recruit Pauline to the side of good, Clara would never know.
“Pauline!” he pleaded, reaching for her with open arms. “Remember who you are! Remember what we once had! You do not wish to be the slave for this madman!”
“Oh, I remember,” she hissed. In a single motion, Pauline left Phineas’ side and grabbed Dr. Van Flemming. She threw him against the wall. His skull cracked against the stones with a sickening thud.
"My, my, what spirit she has," said Phineas admiringly. "The spirit of a queen who will do anything to live forever! Who will possess the living body and devour the soul so that she might live! And now, Clara, you hold her heart. She doesn't like people holding her heart."
"I carry her heart only to give it back to her!" Clara insisted, showing the heart in her hand. She looked at Pauline. "I know the spirit is within you. I have seen her in the darkness. I am here to help her, not hurt her! She has been tricked by the charlatans of old! The exchange of death for life is not worth the price!"
"Isn't that what they all say?" said Phineas. "Unfortunately, now that she has had a taste of the world, she has decided she doesn't want to go back down into the ground, does she? My ancestors made sure that she kept her mind, and this queen shall decide for herself what cost is worth the price."
He turned and brushed his nose against Pauline's. He then grabbed her face roughly, all signs of his frailness gone. "But this vassal is an inadequate vessel for a queen. A harlot. An actress. A face that no one would take seriously. I shall devour her life force, and in exchange, give this queen a more fitting mind and body, one such as yours, Clara." Phineas shoved Pauline. "Open the sarcophagus so that our queen might rise again!"
Pauline, with an unnatural strength, pushed open the lid. The golden covering fell to the floor. The mummy sat up inside, her wrappings disintegrating with age. She turned her face to Clara. Clara could hear the queen's voice ringing in her ears.
Wesley leapt forward to attack, but Pauline was upon him. She screamed and tackled Wesley, knocking him to the ground. Wesley tried to restrain her, but Pauline's goal was his death. Pauline fought like a lion, leaping at Wesley whenever he managed escape. Though he cried for help, Clara could not rush to his aid. Against her will, she felt her other hand reach into her pocket and pull out the scarab. It burned against her palm. Her vision clouded.
"You are bound to this queen, Clara. You are one with her. You and she shall rule the world together! Two minds! One body! Step forward and welcome her in!"
Clara felt her feet shuffle towards the sarcophagus. The mummy's leathery brown arms freed themselves from their wrappings and reached out to her.
"Be bound forever to ME!" said Phineas, "For I am the one who united you, who brought you back from the dead to live again. Bring me the heart, Clara, and I shall forever reign as your master! BOW BEFORE ME AND I SHALL GRANT YOU ETERNAL LIFE!"
The queen turned her head, as if to look at him. A heart was necessary for gratitude, and that had been removed. All that remained was her cold mind. Pauline stopped her struggle with Wesley and turned to Phineas. Clara felt the crack in the spell.
As one, Clara and Pauline spoke, the queen's vacant jawbones moving in time. "WE ARE QUEEN! WE ARE RULED BY NO MAN!"
Clara could feel the queen begin to exert her power, to begin to whisper the command to kill Phineas. Clara knew she could not fight this force. It was too strong. She could not.
So, instead, she leaned into it and surrendered. She let her injured ankle give. She let herself fall forward against the open sarcophagus. She strategically straightened her arm to catch herself, and with the heart in her fist, she let the weight of her body punch through the queen's sternum, placing the heart where it belonged. The queen began to scream, "NO!"
Clara withdrew her empty hand. The compulsion was lifting. And with her other hand, she thrust the scarab upon the heart, binding the heart into its rightful place.
The queen and Phineas’ cries melted together. Dust swept through the room like a desert sandstorm, dust made by the disintegrating queen. Pauline screamed, arching her back as black wind poured out of her mouth and nose. The wind swirled around Phineas and the queen exploded.
The dust found its home in Phineas’ mouth and nose and eyes, filling every orifice like water drowning a swimmer. Choking, gasping, his face turned purple and blue, his eyes bulged, and then finally, he dropped dead to the ground.
The room fell into silence.
Pauline gave a little half sob. Her eyes had returned to normal, her claws to hands, her teeth and eyes to the way a human's teeth and eyes and face should look. "My god!" she cried, looking down at herself, and Wesley whom she had been trying to kill. "What have I done?"
Wesley rested for a moment upon the ground, breathing heavily after their fight. He looked over at Clara, cut and bruised, slumped against the side of the now empty sarcophagus. Wesley reached out to grip Pauline's hand in a half-hearted attempt at comfort. "Absolutely nothing. Except to stop a terrible man who is responsible for all the recent murders in town."
His eyes never left Clara's, though, and she knew he wanted nothing more than to be gripping her hand in comfort. He smiled at her adoringly and said, "Lovely dress."
And Clara began to laugh until tears streamed down her face.
21
Wesley and Clara hobbled out of the house just as a black police wagon pulled up. Leading the wagon was the hansom cab and driver who had helped Clara earlier.
He doffed his hat. "Forgive me for being so presumptuous, misses," he stammered. "It just seemed you needed help and I wanted to make sure that you had all the aid you needed."
One look at Clara's torn and bloodied clothes, the shiner that was beginning to appear on Wesley's cheek from his fight with Pauline, and the police began jumping out of the back and swarmed by them up the stairs to subdue whomever was inside.
"Thank you," said Clara, touched by this driver's thoughtfulness. "That was very wise."
Wesley held out his hand to the man. "Neither of us would have survived if not for your quick service, and the police are most welcome. Tell me, what is your name?"
"Most folks call me Red," the freckled cabbie said, his pale skin blushing almost as bright as his hair.
"We wouldn't have had an idea what was going on here if it wasn't for him," came a familiar female voice.
Clara looked over and beamed. "Marguerite!"
Their old companion was on her feet, walking with a cane, but out of the hospital and looking hale.
Marguerite pointed her cane at Clara. "Next time, let the proper authorities deal with matters like this will you? You could have gotten yourself killed."
"You have my word," Clara laughed, leaning heavily upon Wesley
. "I promise."
"And I shall hold her to it," said Wesley, smiling into her bright eyes.
"Mrs. O'Hare?" Marguerite said, looking up at the scientist's home. "Trouble seems to have a nasty habit of finding you."
"It seems," said Clara. "Though, I am hoping to buck this trend immediately."
"Red said you were in great need of assistance and it was a matter of life and death. Care to explain?"
"I believe that we have found the source of all the recent murders," Wesley informed her.
"Well done!" said Marguerite, pleased.
"You'll find the culprit inside, a Mr. Phineas Stokeman down in the basement. He was truly deranged and confessed to all of the killings before he passed away."
"Really?" said Marguerite, one eyebrow arched as she saw through their white lie. "Confessed to everything?"
A constable was escorting Pauline gently out of the house just in time for her to overhear this exchange.
"He did, ma'am," piped up Pauline. "I heard him myself. I'm a witness. He was trying to kill me, too."
Marguerite gave a who-am-I-to-argue shrug and turned to the officer with Pauline. "Well, we have three people who will swear to his confession. I think that will hold up in any court, don't you?"
He nodded in agreement.
"You will also find a scientist inside who is in need of medical attention," said Clara. "Mr. Stokeman attempted to kill him. It was quite violent and I would not be surprised if he is raving a bit when he wakes. He might even tell you stories of mummies and curses! Poor man…"
"Ah," said Marguerite understandingly. "There are so many tricks the mind can play. I shall make sure to let him know his delusions are unfounded."
A constable came running out of the house. "Ma'am, I think you should come and see this…" he said.
Marguerite gave a curt nod to Clara and Wesley. She said to Wesley, "Take Clara home. And keep her out of trouble, will you?"
"It would be my pleasure," he replied, looking down at Clara with love in his eyes.
"Thank you," said Pauline, interrupting them. "Both of you."
