by Tess Oliver
Chapter 12
“Miss Camden sent some boiled rice pudding,” Dr. Bennett called from the lab as we stepped inside.
“Did she? How thoughtful of her.” I called back to him. “Miss Camden is a little lovelorn when it comes to Dr. Bennett,” I whispered to Strider.
“Then he doesn’t return the affection?”
I shrugged. “Maybe a little, but John Bennett has one true love and that is science. His books and theories are all he needs for happiness.”
“Books instead of girls? Poor deluded man. The bloke doesn’t know what he’s missing.”
I removed my shawl and hung it on the rack at the door, but Strider made no move to remove his coat. “Perhaps, if an expert like you were to write a book about lovemaking, he would read it and become inspired.”
“I don’t know which part of your idea held more sarcasm, the part about me being an expert on lovemaking or about me writing a book.”
“I believe I can claim an equal amount of mocking on both proclamations.”
He stepped face to face with me. The floral wallpaper of the entry seemed to be squeezing in on us, and the space grew smaller. The engaging thin lines around his mouth became more prominent. “I believe only one deserves derision. While I can write, I must declare that I would never be able to pen an entire book.” He leaned his face closer to mine, and his gaze drifted from my lips to my eyes and back to my lips. “But on the subject matter of the aforementioned book, I possess more than my share of expertise.” He leaned closer now, his own lips parting slightly.
I froze, trying ridiculously in my head to sort out my feelings, an unfortunate habit from growing up with a man of pure logic. The kiss would not be entirely unwanted, I knew, but surely, it would add more anxiety to an already bad situation. He leaned so close I could feel a feather light brush of his lips across mine. Then he lifted his face away, and I fell forward slightly from holding my body rigid with anticipation. Acute disappointment assured me I wanted it desperately. I was in deep trouble.
We moved to the sitting room. As I pushed open the door, Dutch flew out, snarling like a rabid animal and swiping at the air with his claws.
Strider pushed up flat against the wall as the cat took a few swats at the legs of his trousers before skittering off to its hiding place in the kitchen. He peeled himself off the wall. “That bloody animal is vicious.”
“Dutch doesn’t like anyone,” I lied.
The warm color of the marmalade room did nothing for the ambient temperature of the small space. Dr. Bennett rarely paid attention to the hearth, and the fire had died long ago. “I’ll start the coals,” I said.
Once heat trickled into the room, I left him there alone while I took the bag of supplies we’d purchased to the lab. Dr. Bennett was searching for something in the shelves. “Cami, did you see a bottle of carbolic acid? I was sure I had some. I will need to use it as a disinfectant.”
I joined in the hunt. There were dozens of dust covered bottles on the top shelf, most of which bore my father’s handwriting. I still found it difficult to look at his writing. Certain mementos brought more pain than others. His script, with its tight, concise lines brought me back to the days when I stood with him in his own lab washing slides and labeling concoctions.
“I found it.” Dr. Bennett lifted a small, blue bottle from the inside of a carton.
I sat on his stool. “I’m wondering if drawing blood from Nathaniel might be dangerous.”
“I’ll wear gloves.”
“Actually, I wasn’t thinking about that kind of danger. He is terribly strong when something has upset him. In the museum, he hurled two grown men across the room.” I thought about the incident with the shoe-black where it seemed even the slightest movement in the wrong direction would have sent the man with the shined boots to an early grave.
Dr. Bennett walked to the small cabinet near the door. “I’ve already thought of that, Camille.” He pulled out three, wide leather straps.” I found these when we went through your father’s things. They must have been from the hospital where he did research.”
“What on earth would he have needed with those?” Deep down I knew my father’s experiments had gotten out of control along with his obsession over transmutation. I stopped my imagination before it could start forming images.
“Strider will see those and think you’re going to torture him.”
Dr. Bennett laid the straps across the seat of the chair he’d carried into the lab. They were nothing more than strips of heavy animal hide, and yet, they brought forth dark visions of medieval dungeons and asylums. Dr. Bennett opened the bag from the apothecary.
“Be careful, John. The lancet sprung open while we walked. Although, I think it’s safely lodged inside an apple.”
Dr. Bennett cautiously lifted out the wounded fruit and glanced at me with a puzzled expression.
I smiled weakly. “Tis a dull story. I better check on our visitor.” I turned to leave.
“I’ll talk to the lad and explain what must be done and the precautions that must be taken,” Dr. Bennett said.
Strider was browsing through the collection of newspapers we kept stacked in the corner. We only saved the ones with significant headlines. He looked up as I entered, and his eyes told me something was wrong. “All of these front pages are about mysterious deaths and dog attacks.”
I stopped in the middle of the room not sure how to respond. The pallor of his face made it clear he had deduced what it all meant. “Nathaniel, I meant to tell you…”
“The last date was the morning after I was attacked in the cemetery. The fish cart man, he was the werewolf who bit me.”
I nodded and walked toward him, but he raised a hand to stop me. “And you and the doctor killed him?”
My hands were shaking. The warm air in the room suffocated me. “He would have killed others. You were one of the fortunate ones.”
An angry laughed escaped his lips. “Fortunate? Is that what you call it?”
Dr. Bennett appeared in the doorway. His pleasant smile slumped immediately to a frown as he spotted the newspapers surrounding Strider. “We don’t mean you harm, Mr. Strider. Our intentions are honest. We are trying to help you.”
I unlocked my knees and took two steps forward. His retreat was stopped by the wall behind him. “Please, Nathaniel, it’s our only chance.”
His eyes glossed with intensity. “Our only chance? You mean my only chance. If you cannot find a way to stop this, I’ll be the dead one. You two will continue with your queer life of microscopes, books, and hunts.”
Dr. Bennett stepped into the room. Strider’s gaze flew to the window as if he contemplated jumping.
I twisted around. “John, please let us have a moment alone.” Dr. Bennett hesitated. “Please, John.”
He left, but if I knew him at all, he remained nearby in the hall.
It seemed there was more hurt in Strider’s expression than fear. This time as I moved closer to him, he did not back away. The anguish in his eyes compelled me to touch him. I lifted my hand to his face. I prayed that he would not flinch and he didn’t. In fact, his response startled me as he pressed his cheek harder against my palm. “I haven’t lied to you. We are trying to help you.”
He shook his head, dislodging my hand before sliding past me to the pile of papers. They flew into the air and scattered over the rug and furniture. “You have lied. Nowhere in your promise did you mention death.”
It took all my will not to move closer to him again. “Hunting werewolves is a wretched occupation. Believe me, I would rather be anywhere than stuck in this cycle of horror. But that is why we so badly want to find a way to stop it.”
He faced me. “You’ll have to do so without me. I’ll not be poked and prodded like a pig going to market. No doubt my friends are wondering what happened to me. I think it best if I take my leave.”
He headed to the door.
“I never took you for a coward, Nathaniel Strider.”
&n
bsp; I knew the words would have effect and they did. He stopped and twisted back around. “I’m no coward.”
“Yes, you are.”
He kicked the table onto its side sending several of the strewn papers into the flaming hearth.
“Camille?” Dr. Bennett called from the hallway.
“We’re fine, John.” The truth was my own courage was beginning to wane. Strider opened and closed his fists, a sure sign that rage simmered just below the surface. But this would be my only chance. “I had a completely different opinion of you until just a few moments ago.”
“And I of you,” he blurted. His chest heaved with deep breaths, and his eyes seemed to darken in color.
“Yes, now you know. I am not merely some pushy girl who hides under boy’s clothing and has no social life. I hunt dangerous beasts. I’ll bet none of your sweethearts on Buck’s Row have ever faced down a snarling werewolf, or worse, come across the shredded remains of a victim.” My bluntness seemed to be taking its toll on him … and on me. My throat ached but I was desperate.
“Pray, say no more.” His hands relaxed, and the blood seemed to drain from his face and lips. Strider walked to the chair and dropped into it, placing his elbows on his thighs and his face in his palms. “You’re right. I’m a bloody coward.”
I sat across from him and took hold of one of his wrists. I brought the palm of his hand to my mouth and kissed it. Never had I done anything like it before but it felt right with him. I released his hand. “I lied. You’re no coward. A two-bit thief and a cad, perhaps, but not a coward.”
He looked up at me. His eyes had softened. “Trousers or not, you’re still pushy.”
“I promise I won’t let anything happen to you, Nathaniel.” The words sprung from my heart, and my head was all too aware of how ridiculous they sounded.
His lip turned up in a half smile. “Tiny sprite like yourself? And how do you intend to do that?”
I tapped the side of my temple. “I’m only tiny on the outside. My brain outweighs the rest of me.” I sat up straight. “I’ve just had a brilliant thought. Chloral hydrate.”
He lifted his brow. “You are the strangest lass.”
“It’s a sleep inducer. I saw it on the shelf in the lab. You could take some, then Dr. Bennett can draw a blood sample while you sleep.”
“How much of that would it take to make me sleep and never wake?” He scrubbed his face with his hands and leaned back. His long lashes fluttered down as he closed his eyes. Good food and rest had not completely erased the hunger and sleeplessness of street life. But then he’d come to us for those comforts only to discover the sinister price behind it.
His face relaxed. Somehow I’d managed to convince him to stay. At least for now.
His brown eyes opened, and he twisted one of the brass buttons on his coat. “My brother used to tell me stories about humans who grew fangs and walked on all fours when the moon was full. But I always thought they were made up stories to scare the wits out of a younger brother.”
“I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“He’s gone now. He was a sailor. I’d planned on becoming a man of the sea like ‘im. When I was ten, I waited three days at the dock for his ship to come home. His ship came home, but Jacob wasn’t on it. He’d been washed overboard by a rogue wave. The captain handed me his coat, patted me on the head, and that was the end of it. The only person left in the world who cared about me was gone.”
My white strand of hair fell onto my face, and I tucked it behind my ear. “Now you have two people who care about you.”
He struggled to suppress a smile, but the lines around his mouth gave it away.
Dr. Bennett peered around the corner. “John, it’s all right. I had an idea, though. Couldn’t you give Nathaniel some chloral hydrate to sleep while you draw blood?” In my mind, all I could envision was Dr. Bennett pulling out those hideous leather straps. They would surely send Strider fleeing from the house forever.
Dr. Bennett looked at the upturned table, disarray of books, and scattered papers then turned back to me. “Indeed. I’ll calculate a harmless dosage, and he can wash it down with a bit of whiskey.”
Strider’s face brightened with the mention of whiskey. He seemed, now more than ever, to be paying attention as if his life depended upon it.
“I’ll get everything ready,” Dr. Bennett said as he left the room.
Heat that had suffocated me earlier felt comforting now as it radiated through the room. We waited in near silence for Dr. Bennett. The clinking of glass and other sounds from the laboratory caused Strider to fidget in the chair. One sudden move or one wrong word and, surely, he would shoot from the house like a bullet from a pistol. He stared at his palm, the one I’d kissed. I had shocked myself with my actions. I don’t know how I had the courage to do it, but I desperately wanted him to know that I cared about him and that our motives were true and honest. Now I felt embarrassed.
“It is not something I normally do,” I stammered.
“What’s that?”
“I don’t normally kiss boys on the hand.” I drew circles on the arm of my chair with my finger and watched my invisible drawing to avoid looking at him. Warmth smoldered from my neck to my ears.
“Tis a practice you might take up more often.”
He always knew exactly what to say to produce a dark pink blush on my face. I fanned my cheeks to cool them.
Strider stood abruptly, and I jumped up too, replaying in my head what I’d done and said in the last few moments that might have made him change his mind. The look on my face must have told him I was worried.
He forced a weak smile, walked to the table, and set it back on its legs. I helped him pick up the fallen books. When everything was back in place, he straightened and raked back his long hair with his fingers. “I’ll be back, Camille. I promise.”
My heart thumped in my chest, and I was sure he had to hear it. Speechless, I watched him walk to the door. This change of mind happened so quickly, I had nothing left in my idea pool to convince him to stay. He had promised to return, but he had every right not to. We had not been open with him from the beginning. Behind the polite offering of vegetable stew, hot baths, and warm beds, there always lay the ominous notion of the eventual hunt.
I held the back of the chair to keep from following him and to keep myself from doing something foolish, like throw myself at his feet and beg him not to go.
Strider stopped in the hall and looked back over his shoulder at me. His expression was meant to reassure me of his return, but I wasn’t convinced.
Dr. Bennett came rushing into the sitting room. “I thought I heard the front door.”
I walked to the window and watched as Strider disappeared down the street. “He promised to return,” I said quietly. The sky had become crowded with gray clouds. Short bursts of wind blew the trees back and forth like a line of dancers. “There’s a storm coming.”
Dr. Bennett lit a cigar and sat in the same chair Strider had been in moments ago. He rarely smoked inside, convinced that I should not be inhaling the fumes. “Then, I suppose, all we can do is wait.”
I knew after ten minutes, I had to find myself an occupation or go mad with worry. Maggie, who came in only twice a week, had forgone the task of dusting, and a greasy layer coated everything in the sitting room. “This place is not fit for a pack of rats,” I said as I stood to retrieve a cleaning rag from the kitchen.
Dr. Bennett looked up from the letter he’d received this morning. “That’s good, is it not? Now we won’t have to worry about a pack of rats moving in.”
If my nerves had not been twisted tightly, I might have laughed. I headed to the kitchen and returned with the cloth.
Not really paying attention to my chore, I kept an ear tuned to the front door hoping for footsteps or some sign of his return. Dr. Bennett drew together his graying eyebrows as he read the post. He folded the letter and dropped it in his lap. “Remarkable.”
“’Tis not the fir
st time I’ve cleaned,” I protested.
“No, this letter.” He lifted it from his lap. “It is from a colleague of mine who is studying in Germany. It seems a scientist by the name of Miescher has been studying surgical wraps from infected wounds.”
“Please do not continue if the story gets more nauseating. My stomach is already bundled into a knot.”
“The rest is not gory. It seems this Meischer was able to separate the nuclei from the white blood cells he studied. And in the nuclei, he isolated a unique chemical substance made up mostly of the element phosphorus. He calls it nucein.”
“And what is the importance of this substance?”
He smiled. “Cami, science does not happen that quickly. He has isolated it. But its significance is still unknown. However, it’s an exciting discovery.”
The floorboards in the hallway creaked, and our attention shot to the doorway. My shoulders sank as Dutch strolled in, tail straight up behind as if the animal had convinced itself that the terrifying visitor had left because of its own snarling protests. My dust rag was full with fine black soot, and my task had grown wearisome. Dutch circled my legs, signaling that I’d forgotten the extremely important task of feeding him.
Two hours had passed since Strider left. I stepped out onto the front stoop and hugged myself tightly against the clammy cold. A heavy drizzle battered the smoke haze hovering above the street, dissolving it into rivulets of liquid ash. The glowing gas lamps added reflections of muted colors across the slick pavement. Workers and shoppers were bundled deep in their coats and hats as they scurried to the warmth of their homes. But there was no tall, black head amongst them.
Back inside, the kitchen stove was cold, and the room was dark, but I did not have the enthusiasm to start a kettle or light a lamp. Something crunched under the heel of my shoe as I climbed onto the stool. No doubt it was a splinter of porcelain from the broken cup. Loneliness crept into every bone in my body. It was an emotion I’d often fought to keep under control so it would not overwhelm me. Tonight it had caught me weak and defenseless, and I had no will to battle it. I placed my arm on the table and lowered my head to rest.