So Still The Night

by Kim Lenox

  Leeson entered, carrying two large black cases. Mina observed Mark’s gaze go to the cases with fierce, intense longing.

  Archer looked to Mark. “One more thing. I’m authorized to convey that for the next twenty-four hours, the Primordial Council rescinds its order against your possession and use of Amaranthine silver.” He smiled, but his eyes and his lips were hard. “You may hunt fully armed. If you find the Dark Bride before Selene or I do, Reclaim her. She’ll do anything to preserve Tantalus’s increasing hold on this city. He wants London for his throne.”

  “Why London?” asked Mina. Her head ached with the enormity of all she’d heard.

  Mark explained, “London has, by far, the greatest concentration of poverty, but also excess and vice. We believe the volume of misery, that deterioration of the mortal soul, has attracted him here. Once he arrives, he would have access to thousands upon thousands of recruits for his army of toadies.”

  Archer’s brow lifted. “Toadies?”

  Mark nodded. “I’ve never seen anything like them before. But they attend to the Dark Bride. They don’t put off a sense of evil. They’re just empty.”

  “We’ve observed the proliferation of such servants,” Archer revealed. “They are humans who’ve had their souls subdued while their moral defenses were in a weakened state. During a fit of temper, or a rage of jealousy. They are damn difficult to track.”

  Mark’s lips turned down. “But what if my deterioration advances? No matter how much I want it . . . I should not bear the power of Reclamation. Not when I, if fully consumed, might turn the power against you.”

  Archer edged toward him, so they stood nose to nose. A small smile pulled his lips. “Do you hear her voice now?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  “It’s not because she isn’t talking, and trying her damnedest to turn you against us.”

  Mark tilted his head. “What are you saying?”

  “That same focused power the Primordials employed to debilitate you—to protect you—is now being exacted across the city to mute her commands. But they’ve only got enough stored up, to utilize to this degree of intensity, through tomorrow. Hence, the aforementioned twenty-four-hour limitation.”

  Mark grinned. “Then let’s get started.”

  Mina hovered at the edges of the room for the next half hour. The three immortals strategized, drew weapons and prepared to depart. A certain excitement, even optimism, electrified the room.

  At last Mark came to her. “This isn’t good-bye.”

  “I know it’s not.” She smiled up at him. “I wish I could go with you, but I know that’s not possible.”

  “Stay with Leeson.” He bent to press a kiss to her lips.

  Her hands slid over his shoulders, and curled into his linen collar. She drew him closer for a second, more fervent kiss. In its aftermath, she whispered, “Come back to me, husband. I’ll be waiting here for you.”

  A full thirteen hours later, night darkened the earth. Mark continued his search, methodically examining districts along the Thames. Frustration dimmed his earlier optimism. He’d found nothing. No professor. No Eye. No Dark Bride. Not even a blasted toadie. The hours whipped past all too quickly. Thirteen hours. Eleven hours left.

  The Savoy rose up before him, her beauty still cloaked in canvas drapes and scaffolding. Cleopatra’s Needle shone luminous against the backdrop of the clouded sky. Four colossal stone sphinxes guarded the corners of the site. The still evening air carried the sound of carriage wheels clattering on pavement. Bells tolled from distant ships. But here the Embankment was deserted. His gaze slid up the granite obelisk. For the first time he realized how his mother must have felt as Octavian’s armies closed in on her.

  Hurry. Hurry William. Before they find you.

  Mark heard the mortal thoughts, as clear as day.

  His pulse quickened. With a lunge, he rounded the monument. A shadowy figure hunched in the even-darker shadow of one of the stone sphinxes. A relief, greater than he’d ever known, washed like sunshine through his veins.

  “Professor Limpett.”

  The man lunged up from his crouched position and stumbled away. He wielded a hammer and a chisel. His expression bore the intense strain of fear.

  One of them.

  “No, I’m not.” Mark held his stance and shook his head.

  “I remember you. Your face. We met in . . .”

  Thirty years ago, his thoughts echoed.

  “At Petra, yes.”

  “But you’re . . . you’re . . .”

  “I’m what you’ve been searching for.” Mark smiled. “And I’ve been searching for you.”

  The professor’s jaw fell.

  “I’m one of the immortals you’ve sought to prove. And the scrolls you possess, the Eye you seek . . . it’s imperative that we find them, and quickly.”

  “They want to hurt people.”

  “So let’s stop them.”

  The professor eyed him warily.

  A snarl came from the darkness. A shadow leapt through the air, toward the professor. With a twist of his hand, Mark issued forth his sword. His skin, his eyes, changed. Amaranthine silver flashed.

  Mark lunged and slashed. The toadie slumped, headless. The foul stench of its sudden deterioration clouded the air. The professor crouched on the pavement, gasping. He stared at the remains.

  “Must I convince you of what side I’m on?”

  “Oh, no,” responded the professor. “That’s quite sufficient for me. Have you another of those swords for me?”

  “The silver would burn your hands. The blade is formed of primeval silver, and fire.”

  “Wonderful,” the old man marveled.

  “I must inform you, I’ve married your daughter.”

  “You! I knew from the newspaper announcement that she had married, but your face was blurred.”

  “I’ll take you to her later.” Mark jerked his head toward the tools the professor still clenched in his hands. “Why are you here? Do you have the scrolls?”

  The professor nodded. “But scrolls be damned for the moment. Let’s get the Eye.”

  The Eye.

  Mark curled his fists. Concentrating, he conveyed the news to Archer. Cleopatra’s Needle. Come now. The Eye.

  Limpett pointed the hammer. “We’ve got to pry out those bored holes on either side of the Needle.”

  “Bored holes?”

  Gray eyebrows rose. “You’ll see them when you look. You pry one out.” He offered a chisel.

  Mark lifted his sword. “I’m covered.”

  “I’ll get the other.”

  With a press of his fingertips against the surface of the granite, Mark did indeed discover a circular hole in the base of the needle. He wedged the point of his sword against it. The bore popped out. On the other side, Lim pett struggled to make headway on his.

  “Stand back,” Mark ordered. When the professor moved, he dispatched that bore with the same efficiency.

  “Now what?”

  “Just watch.” The professor drew aside his coat. There, strapped to his sides, were four ivory scroll rods.

  Another growl came from the darkness, and then a low hiss. Two toadies bounded toward them, faces leering, arms outstretched. Mark blocked the professor, then swung the sword. Heads flew and bounced off the concrete before rolling into the grass.

  “Damn it, William. Hurry.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Leeson leapt up from the armchair. “Someone’s coming to the door.”

  Mina set aside the newspaper she hadn’t been reading. “Do you know who it is?”

  His eyes narrowed. “It’s your uncle—Lord Trafford and his daughters.”

  “Oh, my goodness.” She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “It’s been days since I’ve called upon them or corresponded.”

  “We’re not letting them in,” he said firmly. He crossed to the drawing room door and peered into the entry hall.

  A knock sounded on the door.

 
; Mina bit her lip. “I can’t just let them stand on the steps.”

  “Of course you can.”

  “All the lights are on. They know someone’s at home.”

  “I’ll extinguish the gas now.”

  “Mr. Leeson.”

  “Oh, all right.” He weakened visibly. “Just speak to them through the door.”

  “Which one of my relatives are you suspicious of?” Despite the tension of the day, Mina chuckled. “Trafford, or one of the girls?”

  “At present, all of London is suspect. Especially with all those new soul mutations—toadies—lurking about.” He drew his shoulders in and feigned a shiver. He grinned. “Just crack the door. Tell them you’re ill. Typhoid always works well to send them scurrying back to their carriages.”

  As if to enforce his decision, he slid behind the door. He turned the key and twisted the handle. He allowed her—yes—a crack.

  “Good evening,” she said. She’d never been good at feigning illness, even as a child.

  The door burst inward.

  “The house is lovely,” gushed Astrid, rushing past.

  “Grand,” agreed Evangeline, squinting into all corners. She pursued her sister. “You must give us a tour.”

  From behind the open door, Leeson let out a frustrated groan. The girls—two blurs in black bonnets—raced from room to room.

  Trafford stood sheepishly on the threshold, a calling card in hand. “I’m so sorry for the intrusion. We’re leaving for my northern estate in the morning, and we wished to bid you adieu. The gentleman at the Savoy gave us this address.”

  “It’s quite all right,” Mina answered. “But I’m feeling a bit under the weather and wouldn’t want to give the girls a nasty bug.”

  He nodded. “Let me just gather them. Without Lucinda here, they’ve become rather impulsive. Oh—” He held up a finger, as if remembering something.

  “Yes?”

  “There was another gentleman at the hotel making inquiries about you.” He turned to glance over his shoulder. “I told him you were my niece. I hope that’s all right. He says he was an acquaintance of your father’s. I think he may have followed us over.”

  Mina’s heart sank. Sure as fire, Mr. Matthews, wearing a black bowler, rushed up the walk.

  Trafford stepped through, onto the tile.

  “Miss Limpett.” A smiling Mr. Matthews clambered up the stairs.

  “Mr. Matthews.” She forced a smile.

  Again, from somewhere behind the door, Leeson gave out a little squawk.

  “I’m so pleased to finally find you here at home. I’ve been desperately attempting to pay my respects. I’m mortified to have missed your father’s funeral service, but was out of the country on museum business.”

  “Thank you, sir. Your sentiments are deeply appreciated.”

  He strode boldly past. She glanced to Leeson. His cheeks were red, his lips flat with displeasure. She swung the door closed.

  A scream came from upstairs, from one of the girls. Mina bit her lower lip. She could not help but recall the last time she’d heard the girls scream.

  “What was that?” Mr. Matthews queried, spinning on his heel.

  Trafford rushed out from the drawing room. “Did I just hear one of the girls?”

  “It’s all right.” Mina lifted a hand. “Perhaps it’s just a—a mouse.” Or a snake. “The house is old, and the renovation might have gotten them stirred up. I’ll bring the girls back down.”

  With a hand in her skirt, Mina climbed the stairs to the first floor. She found Astrid and Evangeline in the first bedroom, gripping each other by the hands. The room had yet to be furnished. There was only carpet, and an open door that led into a shadowed dressing room.

  “Is everyone well?”

  Evangeline giggled. “I’m so sorry, Willomina. Astrid frightened me, wicked girl. She said she saw a face in the window and grabbed hold of me, so I screamed.”

  Astrid stared at the night-darkened pane. “I did see a face. A white face. One that looked like a mask.”

  A chill scraped down Mina’s spine.

  Suddenly the gaslight that lit the room flared with a sudden hiss . . . and died.

  Mina blinked into the darkness. Moonlight streamed through the windowpanes, but weakly.

  “Willomina? The lights—,” said Astrid.

  “Over here,” she instructed as calmly as her pounding heart allowed. “Come with me.”

  A dark figure hurtled out of the darkness, nothing more than a shadow but for the white mask it wore as a face.

  Too late, she saw the flash of a long silver blade.

  Mark heard Mina’s scream inside his head. Panic tore through him so violently, he almost dropped his sword.

  The professor mumbled, “Blast. Those two didn’t work, not together anyway. You see, there are two holes, but I’ve got four scroll rods. It’s all about finding the right combination.”

  Archer. Hurry. Cleopatra’s Needle.

  Only a minute away, Archer replied. Delayed by toadies.

  “I’ve got to go,” said Mark.

  “Go?” William’s eyes widened in alarm. “What if there are more of those things about?”

  “It’s Mina.”

  He paled. “Then go. Yes, go. I’ll finish here and rejoin you at your residence. Yes, yes, I know the address. I have not always been the perfect father, but I love my daughter dearly and have kept myself informed of her situation and well-being.”

  “Another immortal will arrive momentarily. His name is Archer.”

  With a grim frown, the professor nodded and wedged a scroll rod into the narrow hole. “Give her a kiss from her papa. Tell her I’ll explain everything soon.”

  Mark transformed into shadow. Light flashed past in brilliant streams as he bounded, twisted and soared over cobblestones, houses and carriages. He pushed himself, strained his power beyond any prior extremes.

  Within three minutes, he’d arrived at the house. Fear twisted, deep in his guts. The windows were black and the door hung open. With an agonized growl, he materialized and delved inside.

  “Mina,” he bellowed.

  “They took her,” Leeson’s voice shouted from the drawing room. “Bloody bastards.”

  Mark found the immortal’s headless body at the center of a blood-spattered carpet.

  “Over here. Over here.”

  His head lay behind the settee. Mark crouched over him and turned his chin so they looked eye to eye. “Who took her?”

  “I’m not sure.” Leeson’s bloodstained lips moved. One eye wavered, seeking focus. The patch remained in place. “It was either Trafford or that Matthews fellow from the museum who cut me.”

  Mark seethed. The cult of immortality he’d originally suspected began to take shape. “Where? Where did they take her?”

  A voice answered, “There’s a note pinned to his chest.”

  Mark whirled. Archer bent over Leeson’s body.

  “Oh, dear.” Elena rushed past to claim Leeson’s head. “A decapitation. A difficult injury, but don’t worry, my dear little man. I’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

  “I told you to go to Cleopatra’s Needle,” Mark bellowed.

  “We did.” Archer’s eyes flashed. “We found nothing but a gaping hole in the base.”

  “What of the professor?”

  Archer shook his head. “He wasn’t there.”

  “Bloody hell,” Mark cursed. “What does the note say?”

  “It’s an invitation.” Archer stared levelly at him. “It’s for you.”

  Mark snatched the square card from the other immortal’s gloved hand. A familiar foul stench offended his nose.

  Frantic over Mina’s disappearance, he skimmed the words, which were typeset in glossy black.

  The Dark Bride

  requests your presence

  at the marriage of herself

  The Dark Bride

  to

  Jack the Ripper

  tonight

  at m
idnight

  Westminster Clock Tower

  Except disturbingly, a thick black X had been drawn across the words “Jack the Ripper.” In round, childish handwriting, Mark’s name had been substituted beneath. At the bottom, she’d added, P.S. Come alone.

  “That’s an hour from now.”

  “Then we’d better strategize on the way.”

  They paused only to help Elena with the positioning of Leeson’s body on the settee. They left him there, cursing and complaining at being left behind, his neck thickly bandaged.

  Mina awoke to darkness and a man’s shout. Blindly, she pressed her hands about. They’d locked her into some sort of closet, with only a crack of light visible beneath the door.

  Her lips were dry and tasted and smelled of chemical. Someone stepped on her.

  “Ouch, ouch. Stop.” She gripped a calf and steered the offending boot away.

  “Willomina?”

  Her heart leapt at the familiar voice. “Father?”

  He collapsed halfway atop her, and after a moment, they found one another’s arms. Oh, yes. She inhaled. Ink, paper and tobacco. She touched his face. Whiskers. Craggy nose. He did the same.

  “Have they hurt you?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “I’m so sorry. I sought only to protect you.”

  “I know that now, Father.”

  “I thought myself so clever, avoiding them this long. But once I uncovered the Eye, they closed in. There were so many of them. Too many for me to escape.”

  “You found the Eye?” She gripped his arm. “And now they’ve got it? Oh, no. No, no, no.”

  “They want it for evil, Mina. But don’t worry. He’ll find us.”

  “Who?”

  “Your immortal husband.”

  She laughed and sobbed at once. “You met Mark?”

  “Yes—again. I met him long ago, actually. Didn’t realize what he was then, of course. Can’t say I’m certain how the two of you will make a marriage work, but I couldn’t hope for a more interesting son-in-law.”

  “Oh, Father.” She laid her head against his chest. Tears stung her eyes. “I missed you. I was so worried about you—that they’d get you, and now look. They’ve got us both.”