Phoe shrieked as Pankenthorpe shook off the blow and came back at Sigerson. He swung wildly, but Sigerson was quick, dodging his fists easily. Unfortunately, he failed to see the scalpel still clutched in the professor’s hand. He slashed downward and Sigerson screamed. Phoe saw the blood spew as Pankenthorpe easily sliced Sigerson’s ear completely off. His hand immediately went to shield his head from another slash and Pankenthorpe kicked him full in the chest, sending him sprawling backward, gasping for air.
Phoe pulled against the shackles as the professor started toward her again. Sigerson’s blood dripped from the end of the raised blade. The professor was ready to finish what he’d started.
“Step away from her,” said a hissing whisper from across the room.
Phoe pulled herself up enough to see over Pankenthorpe’s shoulder. Vampiric eyes glowed in the shadows, looking like two silver beacons. “Cage,” she murmured, almost laughing with relief.
Pankenthorpe turned, holding the scalpel in front of him. The glow disappeared, but they could hear a low growl. Pankenthorpe whipped around wildly, looking for the source of the noise. It seemed to come from everywhere. “Come out,” he shouted.
Something out of the darkness shoved Pankenthorpe to the ground. Phoe heard the scalpel hit the floor with a soft tinkle. The professor, thrown off his guard, pulled up on the table to get to his feet. He kept his head low, and his eyes were everywhere. He pawed at the tray of instruments, looking for another weapon. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“He’ll kill you, Alfie,” Phoe warned. “Vampires have no mercy.”
“Shut up,” he growled. “I’m not afraid of any of you technological abominations.”
With a rush of cold, Cage appeared in a flash, this time punching the professor hard. He fell over the edge of the table, screaming as he clutched his cheek. Three long gashes bled down his face. Phoe winced, knowing the pain he must be feeling as the venom from the vampire’s claws seeped into the wound.
“Stings, doesn’t it?”
“Don’t worry, vampire,” Pankenthorpe called, ignoring Phoe’s taunt. “There will be plenty of blood left for you.” He turned back to Phoe, a scalpel raised. “So much blood.”
Phoe gasped, bracing for the impact. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cage pounce from the rafters, descending on the professor. He grabbed him by the back of the head, pulling him away from Phoe as if he were a child’s toy.
“I never share my food,” Cage growled, throwing the professor across the room. Pankenthorpe recovered and came at Cage with the scalpel. He slashed out and Cage dodged it easily. The professor slashed again and again, but this time Cage grabbed his arm, twisting it hard. Phoe heard the sickening pop as the shoulder popped out of its joint, and her stomach rolled over. Cage’s fist came down across Pankenthorpe’s nose three times in rapid succession until his face was a mess of blood.
Though she knew it was Cage, her savior looked nothing like him, save for the shreds of the suit that still clung to his form. He had grown in height and breadth. His head was still vaguely human, but his jawline was elongated. His eyes were narrow and slanted like a cat’s and they glowed silver. When he hissed, Phoe could see that rows of sharpened teeth had grown in, and the hand that clutched the professor was gnarled and ended in razor-like claws. He shook the professor until the scalpel dropped from his hand then threw him aside. Miraculously, the man was still breathing, but broken.
Cage snarled like a hungry animal then turned to Phoe. She could feel the blood where Pankenthorpe had cut her dripping down her neck. Cage’s eyes were fixed on it, and for a moment she was afraid. She’d never seen him this way before. Always, when Cage shifted, she had been able to see understanding and clarity glimmering in his eyes, but this was truly monstrous. She searched his face for any sign of recognition and saw none. She wasn’t quite sure if he was aware of himself in this form. Had she jumped from the proverbial frying pan and into the fire?
He lurched toward her. She winced as he grabbed her shackled wrist. His skin was so cold. One good jerk and the chain broke, spilling the brass chinks to the floor with a loud clatter. He broke the other and pulled her upright. His breath was ragged. She could smell the death emanating from his body.
“Cage,” she cried, reaching up and stroking her fingertips along his cheek. “Everything’s okay.” It was more of a question. He took her hand by the wrist and pulled her closer. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she could hear the blood whooshing through her veins. “It’s me. You know me, right?” He rubbed his cheek against hers then began sniffing lightly at her hair and throat. She closed her eyes as he lapped at the blood seeping from the thin wound at her jawline. Phoe could feel the slight tingle as the venom irritated the cut and made the blood run faster. “Cage, please,” she whimpered, her voice trembling.
Phoe cupped his cheek gently, forcing him to gaze into her eyes. “Please,” she whispered again. Over his shoulder, she caught a spark of silver off a blade, and looked up in time to see Pankenthorpe. He had raised the knife, poised to strike. “Cage,” she screamed.
Suddenly, a shot rang out. Cage covered her with his body. Pankenthorpe dropped the knife, looking down. His expression was a mixture of shock and relief as he dropped the knife and fell to the floor.
Sigerson emerged from the shadows and stood over the body, firing twice more for good measure. He looked up at where Phoe huddled behind Cage. “I do hope that I don’t have to kill you as well,” he said to Cage. “Do step away from the lady so I can be sure you haven’t gone all creature of the night.”
They watched as the man lurking inside of this beast struggled to break free. Cage had explained it once. When he first took the splice, it was like his true self had been locked away in a dark room and he was always shouting for someone to open the door. Then he met Phoe, and somehow, without even trying, she’d managed to give him the keys. His body shrank and contorted as he fought against the ugliness inside. Phoe could hear his bones crack and the strangled screams of agony as he doubled over.
When Cage sat up, Phoe could tell that the fearsome vampire had drained from his system. Shaking his head, he smiled wide at Sigerson, showing that the fangs were gone. Sigerson lowered the gun, and then he stared at it as if he were unsure that it had been him that pulled the trigger. “Thank God. I wasn’t sure I had another bullet.”
“A bullet probably wouldn’t have done it anyway,” Cage informed him, cracking his shoulder as it popped back into place. “Damn,” he grunted. “That might almost be worse than the dragon.”
Phoe threw her arms around his neck and wept against his shoulder. He smelled like her Cage. She prayed that she would never have to see that creature again. “God, I thought I’d lost you,” she whispered. “For a split second, I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to come back.”
He brushed a sweaty tendril away from her forehead and kissed it gently. “For a second, I wasn’t sure myself.” He pulled her into his arms, holding her tight.
“Yes, yes,” Sigerson complained, rolling his eyes. “We’re all lovey-dovey now, but I’m standing here having shot a man dead and I’m starting to freak out a little.”
Twenty-three
Phoe clung to Cage’s side as they made their way toward the doors in the hotel. The place was swarming with police officers and IU agents. Sigerson handed over the professor’s journal and the key to his trophy case at the Devil’s Doorbell. Phoe had given her statement, and all in all, everything had been tied up neatly.
“Why is it that wherever the two of you go, chaos ensues?”
They turned to see Maurice Wilder ducking under the crime scene tape and coming toward them. He looked disheveled, an unusual condition for someone like Wilder who loathed getting his hands dirty.
“Hello, Maurice,” Phoe greeted. He surprised her by pulling her into a bear hug that nearly cracked her spine.
“What are you doing here?” Cage sneered. “I didn’t ask for you.”
“No, but
I figured I’d better come check on my favorite agents. I know how the two of you can’t seem to cross the street without getting into trouble.”
“We didn’t cause a string of murders,” Phoe stated.
“Of course not,” Maurice said. “The world is far more interesting with you in it, dear lady.” He made a big show of bowing to kiss Phoe’s hand. “And don’t you look stunning in your Victorian finery?”
“Apart from the blood.”
Cage groaned. “Now that you’ve confirmed that we’re still alive, you can go.”
“Macijah, I’m hurt that you think me so unfeeling. But you’re not quite right. I didn’t come for you and the lovely Miss Addison. The IU intends to launch a full investigation into these murders.”
“A bit late, don’t you think? The perpetrator is lying on the floor back there with three bullets in his back.”
“True, but Thorpe shouldn’t have been allowed to get so far. The IU file on him was fairly extensive.”
“What do you mean, extensive?” Phoe asked.
“He means that the IU knew about the professor all along. They chose to let him go on to see what would happen.”
Phoe’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Let him go on? People have died. I almost died at his hand, and you were letting him go on?”
Wilder leaned in, gesturing that Phoe should lower her voice. “Shush. We didn’t know he was homicidal, only about his experimentations with biomech. There are certain people in this world who are, shall we say, unconventional. We watch those people to see what sort of things they can do and decide if those things can be useful to the government.”
Cage rolled his eyes. “He means that since Thorpe never ripped up anyone of importance that they were fine with monitoring his research.”
“That’s sick.” Phoe shook her head and made a sour face.
“That’s the government.” Wilder looked past them to where Tuggingham’s ham-handed thugs were carrying the professor’s body out on the street. “Oy. Who gave you clearance for that?” He moved Cage aside and ran off to argue with them.
“Glad to see that Maurice hasn’t changed much in our absence,” Cage quipped.
“He does like to show up in time to boss everyone around,” Phoe said with a snort.
“Oh my goodness. Mrs. St. John.” Phoe turned and Mrs. Brown crashed into her. She embraced Phoe, kissing her cheeks. “I’m so glad to see you’re all right. We all feared the worst when Mr. Sigerson ran in and shouted to call the police.”
“I told you we should have left before, Edith,” Mr. Brown grumbled. He stood behind her looking bored and deeply concerned that someone might see him here talking to a group of people covered in blood.
“Don’t mind him.” She waved behind her. “I never do.” She hugged Phoe again, kissing her cheeks, and Phoe felt the juicy lipstick stains Edith left behind.
When she finally let go, Cage tried again to lead Phoe toward the doors of the hotel. She leaned heavily on him. Exhaustion started to set in as the shock wore off. Her legs felt wobbly and she could barely keep her eyes open. She was looking forward to getting back to the pension and crawling into bed with Cage and maybe a couple of Miss Abecrombie’s leftover scones.
“You’re sure you’re all right? Maybe we should get that cut checked out at the hospital.” Cage tipped her head to one side and examined the tiny slash at the corner of her jawline. “It’s still bleeding pretty badly.”
“It’s the venom,” she told him. “It’ll stop soon. Right now, I want to go to bed.”
“St. John,” Sigerson jogged up behind them. Phoe was amazed at how quickly the man seemed to bounce back after losing an ear and, from the look of his jacket, nearly half of his blood. “Glad to see you’re back to your old self.” He clapped Cage on the back affectionately. “That was quite a trick you pulled back there.”
“Yeah.” Cage rubbed the back of his shoulder. “Thanks for saving my life.”
“I think we’re even, now.”
“Hardly,” Cage replied. He nodded to where Maurice was arguing with Horace Tuggingham. “Have the police given you any static about Thorpe?”
“I think Tuggingham wanted to, but once your boss and his agents went to the Devil’s Doorbell, he was pretty well convinced I’d done them a favor. One of the boys told me that the IU team found a stash of trophies under the floorboards in his room. Various mechanical parts, all of them flecked with dried blood and tissue. It’s only a matter of time before Violet matches it with the victims.”
“It’s sad, though,” Phoe said. “He didn’t start out a monster, you know. He was a desperate father trying to save his child. I can’t say I wouldn’t be driven insane myself.”
“We all have the capacity for evil, Mrs. St. John,” Sigerson said. “It’s a war waged within our souls, every minute of every day.”
Cage gave a derisive snort, but offered his hand to Sigerson. “You were meant for a different time, my friend. But I hope we meet again soon.”
“I’m sure we will,” Sigerson stated, shaking Cage’s hand. “Mr. Wilder offered me a job with his organization, and I’ll be returning to Earth promptly. He says he could use a man with my deductive skills.”
Phoe and Cage exchanged knowing glances. Sigerson could be an interesting addition to their little band of misfits, and God knows Wilder loved a new science experiment. “Then we’ll see you when we get back,” Cage said.
Sigerson nodded and tipped his hat before disappearing into the throng of officers still milling around in the foyer of the hotel.
“He’s quite a character,” Phoe noted. “I like him.”
“Me too. Of course, I’m sure that Wilder will ruin him soon enough.”
Before leaving, they stopped by the kiosk at the hotel exit. A harried-looking man stood behind it, staring over a mountain of discarded coats and shaking his head. “Pardon me, sir,” Phoe called out.
Cage tensed, clutching her hand tightly as the man turned around and offered a weak smile. “Can I help you?” he asked, his voice sounding thin.
“I believe you have my coat,” Phoe explained, pulling her ticket from the tiny bag fastened around her wrist.
“Bless you, sweet lady.” The man near groveled, taking her coat check ticket. “Once the police arrived, everyone started running out of the hotel, grabbing coats willy-nilly. God only knows which coats went with whom.” He went to the pile and began searching through the coats to find Phoe’s. “Oh no,” he cried after several minutes of looking. “I’m afraid someone made off with your coat.” He looked up at Cage as if to say, I told you so.
“It’s all right.” Phoe gave him a reassuring smile. “It isn’t so cold out.”
Cage stared over the attendant’s shoulder and spotted his dark wool overcoat lying on top of the pile. “That one’s mine.” He pointed.
The attendant opened his mouth, ready to argue, then thought better of it and handed over the coat. “Good evening, sir.”
Cage wrapped the coat around Phoe’s shoulders and began leading her out of the hotel. The atmosphere had turned cooler, and though it was fake, Phoe could have sworn it smelled like snow. She pulled the coat tighter around herself and buried her nose in the wooly depths.
“You never told me,” she started as they stood on the sidewalk, waiting for a hansom. “When you left me before in the study, you said you forgot your key. Did you call Miss Abecrombie?”
Before he could answer, Phoe shoved her hands down into the deep pockets of Cage’s overcoat. There was something there. She pulled out a small, velvet box and held it up to him. “What’s this?”
Cage took the box, smiling wide. “I almost forgot. And I know this probably isn’t the most appropriate time. But I’ve found over the course of our relationship, that there’s never really a good time for these things. I always manage to fuck it up.”
“Cage, what are you talking about?”
Cage opened the box, revealing the large, vintage diamond ring. He knelt down
before her, making a big show of it, just as the hansom cab pulled up to the curb. “Phoebe Addison, I know I’m an insufferable prick. I work too much, I’m cranky, and I turn into a hairy, smelly beast on a regular basis.” He kept talking, but his voice was drowned out by the whining siren of the police caravan that started up behind them.
“What?” she shouted, laughing.
The siren wailed on, but she caught the last bit. The only bit that mattered: “Marry me.”
“Are you out of your mind? What happened to all that about not needing a bit of paper or a priest’s blessing?”
“I was such a moron. And a coward. I know that now, and I don’t want to make that mistake again. The truth is, Phoe, when you fell over me on that Maglev, you saved my life. In that one little moment of chance, you changed everything. And now that I have you, I’m never letting you go again.”
Phoe looked down at him as he knelt on the sidewalk like an idiot, smiling hopefully. She took the ring from the box and held it up to the light, examining it. She couldn’t let him off the hook so easily. She wanted to make him sweat about it a little after all the grief he’d given her about getting married. But the ring was exquisite. And he was awfully handsome. Phoe had no doubt they’d make beautiful babies together.
“You didn’t pick this out,” she deduced, remembering the only other piece of jewelry he’d ever given to her was an antique bullet on a gold chain. “Sigerson picked this out, didn’t he?”
“Does it matter?”
“Not really.”
“Come on, Phoe. Save my life.”
Phoe shuffled her petticoats around, getting down on her knees to meet him face to face. Leaning forward, she brushed her cheek against his and whispered her acceptance softly in his ear. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight there on the cobblestone sidewalk.
In Absinthia Page 19