Night Falls Darkly

by LENOX, KIM

  He strode across the yard to hold the ladder steady, all the while taking in the arousing sight of Elena’s bottom in the trousers as she descended. He did not back away, even when her feet touched upon the bottom rung. When she turned, he effectively held her in a cage formed of the ladder and the brace of his arms.

  Her pale hair shone like gold against the shoulders of the man’s coat. “I still despise you for what you did.”

  “As you should.” He lowered a top hat onto her head and tapped it down, into place.

  “For someone who insists that I settle down into a respectable life and marriage, you seem determined to ruin my reputation.”

  She was right. His logical mind told him he ought to let her go and allow her to live her own life—but he couldn’t force himself to leave things alone. At the same time, he acted with distorted purpose. He needed to get her back to Black House and safety before the predicted Tartarian wave passed over London, when Jack the Ripper would act again. Somehow he had known she wouldn’t be able to resist the promise of an adventure.

  “Come on.” He bent to retrieve her bag.

  They quickly rounded the side of the house and went out to the street.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked in a low, sardonic voice. She jabbed her curls under the hat. “Gambling? To a house of ill repute? Are you finally going to share all your dark secrets with me?”

  “Wait and see.”

  He lifted his hand to summon a hackney. One veered across the road and rolled to a stop in front of them. Inside, Elena lowered herself to the bench. Archer slid in beside her. They traveled in silence for the better part of a half hour.

  At his signal, they disembarked on a narrow thoroughfare lined with sidewalks and neat, middle-class houses. Although a handful of passersby bustled to and fro and a carriage clattered by, there was an air of quiet unknown to the rougher districts of the city.

  “Here we are,” he said, stopping on the sidewalk.

  “At long last,” she answered, unimpressed.

  The front face of the house inspired no grandiose expectations—only suspicion on Elena’s part. Iron lamps hung on either side of the door, empty of flame, and she could see no light through the windows. Why would Archer bring her, dressed as a man, to an abandoned house? He climbed the front steps, and knocked. The windowless wooden door creaked inward, and a gray-bearded face appeared.

  Archer announced in a low voice, “Lord Black and Mr. Flowers.”

  Elena supposed she was Mr. Flowers. She exhaled nervously and kept her hat low on her forehead, hoping the wide leg of her trousers continued to conceal the taffeta bow on the top arch of her shoe.

  The bearded man backed into a dark entry hall, bowing and pulling the door wide for their entrance. “Welcome, your lordship. We’ve been expecting you.”

  Archer set her bag down against the wall. Elena slipped her hands into the narrow pockets at the front of her coat and followed her towering companion down a short corridor. Conversation buzzed, formed of many male voices, but stopped instantly on their arrival. A room full of faces turned toward them. All wore respectable vests and suits. Piles of discarded top and bowler hats littered two side tables. Three huge brass candelabrum blazed, filling the room with light.

  One gentleman, wearing spectacles and a surgeon’s tunic, broke free of the group and came toward Elena and Lord Black. He wore an open expression of greeting.

  “Gentlemen of the society, please join me in welcoming our most recent financial donor, Lord Black. How pleased we are to have you and your associate, Mr. Flowers.”

  Elena touched the brim of her hat but kept it on her head, and her face tilted low.

  “Thank you, Dr. Alcott,” said Lord Black.

  The man smiled and circled round to address the gathering. “Now that our special guests have arrived, we may proceed.”

  The bearded gentleman who had shown them in from the door touched Elena’s elbow and, with a gentle nudge, urged her toward the center of the room.

  “You must both move closer, for the best view.”

  To her amazement, everyone parted to reveal that which had been laid out on a metal table at the center of the room. Beneath a gleaming white sheet lay the unmistakable outline of a corpse.

  Elena glanced toward Archer. He looked ahead, a smile turning the corner of his lips. Tears glazed her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away.

  Dr. Alcott said, “The human body is a fantastic and mysterious thing, and as physicians, physicians-in-training, and men of knowledge, we all know how rare it is to have an opportunity to dissect the human body, in its most complete form, at our leisure and for the simple luxury of education.”

  “Here! Here!” came the response around the room.

  “Sir James, who passed away only this morning, arranged that his body be donated to the society for this specific purpose. I hope the rest of you will consider making the same generous sacrifice when your own final decisions are made.”

  “God bless Sir James,” bellowed a gentleman in the back, who then snorted into a handkerchief.

  Dr. Alcott stationed himself beside the corpse. “Let us begin.”

  Several other men in tunics took places beside him, ready to assist. The surgeon pulled back the sheet and picked up a gleaming scalpel.

  Archer could not see Elena’s reaction below the wide brim of her hat, but from behind, where no one would see, she grasped the cuff of his sleeve and angled for a closer look.

  They did not speak as they descended the steps amongst the other attendees of the dissection. In silence, the group dissipated into the shadows of the night.

  Gas lamps lined the avenue, hissing softly as they passed. Her mind still couldn’t grasp what had just taken place. Her estranged guardian had dressed her in men’s clothing, brought her out into the dark London night and gifted her with something so dear to her heart, she could not help but feel they’d grown infinitely closer in the passing of a few short hours—hours in which they hadn’t even spoken; they had only stood beside each other, observing the dissection of a dead man. Bizarrely, she found the gesture achingly romantic.

  “Do you wish to return to the hospital?” he asked quietly.

  No, I don’t. I want to stay with you.

  She nodded. “Yes. The hospital.”

  “I’ll take you there.” He raised her bag in the direction of the avenue.

  “Thank you.”

  The fit of the trousers against her body felt foreign and sensual, even though beneath, she’d worn her wool, lace-edged drawers. The idea of him selecting the male garments for her was nearly as illicit as if he’d purchased some piece of diaphanous lingerie.

  The cluster of physicians who preceded them on the sidewalk secured the last available hackney parked at the curb. They piled in, and the vehicle clattered down the street.

  They stood for a moment, watching the avenue for another. Archer glanced at his watch. “It’s not yet midnight. Let’s take the train.”

  They walked a brief distance before coming to the arched-stonework entrance of the railway station, and descended the stairs. Oil lamps lit the walls, providing dim light for the cavernous, subterranean space. The scent of coal dust mixed with sulfur crowded Elena’s nose. Archer paid for their tickets, and together they crossed the platform to wait with a handful of other passengers.

  Eventually the engine hurtled out of the dark tunnel and screeched to a halt. Elena followed Archer onto the first-class car and sat a respectable distance from him on the leather seat. High, wood-paneled walls surrounded them. The only windows were narrow, and occupied a space along the stamped-tin ceiling. Oil lamps hung from brass chains, giving off a golden glow. The uniformed conductor claimed the tickets and passed through the door to move into the second-class car, leaving them alone.

  The train lurched into travel, and the car darkened further going into the tunnel. The bench they sat upon took up a gentle, rocking motion, which, in the company of her silent guardian, r
esulted in a distinctly seductive effect.

  She rested her head back against the leather and considered him. “Why did you take me there tonight?”

  For a long moment he stared at her hand, which lay on the bench between them. Finally, he lifted his gaze to hers. “Because despite what I did . . . I wanted you to know—” He faltered, looking away, and laughed low in his throat. “I’m decidedly awkward at subjects like this. Personal subjects.”

  Elena did not reply, did not try to make the moment easier for him. She waited for him to continue.

  He did. “You were wrong when you said I didn’t believe in you.”

  “Then why, Archer?” she asked softly. “Why did you do what you did?”

  Slowly his hand covered hers.

  “Because nothing else mattered but protecting you. I hated that you wanted to spend your life in Whitechapel. I still do. I thought I could bear your hatred, but I can’t.”

  “I don’t hate you.” She exhaled shallowly. “I could never hate you.”

  His fingers wove between hers.

  “You hurt me.”

  “I know.” He lifted her hand and closing his eyes, touched his lips against her folded fingers. “I’ll fix things. Everything. I realize that I was trying to smother everything in you that I admired. I also realize I’ve got to let you—”

  He exhaled.

  “Let me what?”

  “Fly, Elena. I’ve got to let you fly.”

  His words touched her heart, and at the same time, she realized this night might very well be good-bye. She leaned closer. His hand cupped her chin. His gaze moved from her eyes, to her lips.

  Elena trembled, knowing he would kiss her. He angled his head, dipping beneath the brim of her hat to press his warm mouth against hers. Elena clasped her hand against his jaw, wanting to hold him there forever. She spread her fingers round into the thick, cool hair of his nape. With all the passion inside her she returned his kiss.

  He growled into her mouth, “Why, Mr. Flowers.”

  The vibration of the train spread up through her back, and along her buttocks and the undersides of her thighs.

  “Touch me, Archer,” she begged.

  His hand thrust beneath her necktie, invading the slit between the buttons of her shirt to caress the bare upper swell of her breast above her chemise. Her nipples tightened to hard peaks. She couldn’t get close enough. She curled her fingers into his coat lapels, and twisted, rising up onto one knee to swing her leg over his hips so that she straddled him.

  “Darling . . . ,” Archer groaned, deep in his throat.

  Face to face, their lips melded, hot and open. Her hat fell to the seat, and her hair tumbled over the shoulders of her greatcoat. Beneath the fine linen of his shirt she felt the hardness of his chest, the heated flex of his stomach. He slid his hands over the tops of her thighs, beneath the tails of her coat to clasp her buttocks. He tilted his hips and seized her against him. Rigid and hot, he pushed against her, spreading her, giving her unimaginable pleasure even through the layers of her woolen trousers and linen underpants.

  Suddenly Archer twisted his face aside and dragged her to sit on the bench beside him. She sprawled, dazed with passion.

  “The conductor,” he rasped, quickly handing over her hat and straightening her tie. He chuckled, a low, hoarse sound, and crossed his legs, and his arms over his chest.

  She thrust the hat atop her head and stuffed her hair beneath. Had he heard a footstep? A door? She had heard nothing, but then again, she lost all sensibility in his arms.

  As Archer had warned, the porter stepped through from the second-class car and gripped the brass pole. “Aldgate! Last train.”

  The wheels screeched, and their bodies swayed at the rapid deceleration. Once the train had fully stopped, Elena stood on shaky legs and exited onto the platform. Archer shadowed her just behind, carrying her bag. As they ascended the dark stairwell, he caught her wrist, and laughing huskily, pushed her to the wall. He dropped a brief but fervent kiss to her lips. The illicit excitement of knowing they could be discovered at any moment sent an unexpected thrill of excitement through Elena. She arched against him, holding her hat in place. Between her thighs she felt slick and hot, and ached for something more.

  “Return with me to Black House tonight.”

  Feverish with desire, Elena nodded. “Yes. I want to.”

  He backed away from her, his eyes vivid and intense, even in the dark shadows. She knew exactly what she agreed to. She would spend the night in Archer’s bed, making love to him. He might be gone tomorrow, but the next few hours would be enough to last her a lifetime. It had to be.

  When they came out onto the sidewalk, she startled, seeing a familiar town coach parked at the curb. Mr. Leeson perched atop its bench, a cane-whip in his hand. He nodded to her, grinning.

  “Don’t be angry,” Archer murmured. “I had hoped to convince you somewhere along the way to return home—though not in the manner that occurred.”

  “I’m not angry. I want to go with you.” She exhaled excitedly. “Just one thing.”

  She grasped his sleeve.

  “We are just a few moments from the hospital. With the recent murders, they’ve strict rules about our comings and goings, and we the nursing staff must verify our whereabouts to the dormitory deputy each morning and night. I don’t wish her to send the police out when I don’t check in as expected.”

  Archer glowered, a sensual image of impatience, but nodded in agreement. Once inside the carriage, Elena set aside her top hat. Her valise sat on the floor. She bent over to retrieve her long mantle from inside.

  “I can’t have them see me dressed like this,” she chuckled, shaking it out.

  Suddenly, from behind, Archer banded his arm around her waist, drawing her back against his chest. “I don’t want you in more clothes; I want you in fewer. I’m loath to let you go for even a moment.”

  He bent his face to her neck, kissing her there, and teasing her skin with his tongue. Everything inside her went warm like melted wax. His hands pressed up along her rib cage to cup the undersides of her breasts. Elena writhed in pleasure.

  The carriage rolled to a stop. Archer released her to recline into the corner of the bench into a regal, long-legged sprawl. One glance out the window showed Elena the carriage had pulled alongside the rear entrance to the hospital, the one usually utilized by the staff.

  “Hurry.”

  She quickly drew on the mantle and fastened the buttons down the front. She scooted closer to the door, but hesitated, pressing her hands to her cheeks and rubbing her eyes.

  “What are you doing?” Archer asked.

  “Trying not to look so impassioned. Nurse James will certainly realize I’m in the midst of being seduced.”

  Archer grinned. “Should I go with you?”

  “No,” Elena insisted firmly, laughing. “That would only make things worse.”

  She turned the latch and disappeared into the blue darkness, closing the door behind her.

  Instantly the smile slipped from his lips.

  With the intrusion of night air came a powerful curl of trace, stinking and fetid.

  He jerked the door open. He could still hear her footsteps.

  Leeson crouched, preparing to leap from the bench. His daggers glimmered inside his vest. “I sense him too.”

  “Stay.” Archer held up a halting hand. “You may be called upon to take Elena away quickly.”

  Archer followed the path she’d taken up the stairs. He caught a glimpse of her dark mantle as she swept into the hospital.

  Inside the small entrance hall, two weary-faced nurses gossiped and giggled on a bench. Here Jack’s trace was stronger.

  He was here, in the hospital.

  Every muscle in Archer’s body drew taut in preparation for battle. His gaze focused on the hall where Elena had gone. He would find her and send her off with Leeson, before beginning the hunt.

  Suddenly, something distracted him. The attention of
several mortals focused upon him, their thoughts twisted about him. Behind him the door whooshed open.

  There he is.

  Lord, he’s a big gent.

  He closed his eyes in anticipation—

  A hand clamped down on his forearm.

  “Pardon me, sir,” a voice inquired. “Is that your town coach waiting at the curb outside?”

  “It is,” Archer answered, watching the hall and praying for Elena to reemerge.

  “Then you are Lord Black.”

  “I am.”

  The man stepped in front of him. He was a good half foot shorter than Archer, and his mustache swept low over his jowls to meet up with his side-burns. He drew aside his frock coat to reveal a brass badge pinned to his brace strap.

  “First-Class Inspector Abberline of the Metropolitan Police, sir, Home Office. I’m afraid, your lordship, you’ll have to come with us for questioning.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Three more officers closed in, two of them pressing close to grasp his arms above the elbows. The nurses, wide-eyed and whispering, scurried off down the hall.

  He could easily throw the men off, but he could not afford to draw attention to himself or his unnatural powers, not with so many witnesses. Shadow Guards, and any Amaranthine for that matter, were forbidden to reveal their extraordinary powers to a mortal audience. Such a display would only draw unwanted attention and lead to the potential discovery of the Inner Realm.

  “What is this about?” Archer asked.

  Abberline’s gaze revealed an appreciation for Archer’s relative cordiality. He spoke quietly, discreetly. “You’ve been implicated in a crime, your lordship.”

  Word had spread. Patients and hospital staff flowed into the room. They spoke in hushed tones, their eyes wide, amazed that they might be witnessing the apprehension of the Ripper.

  The Ripper was here, goddamit, somewhere.

  Archer swallowed hard and tried to calm his racing heart. He had never before felt this fear. Fear of losing someone. Fear of being alone again. God, Elena, where was she?

  The Ripper’s trace curled about him, almost taunting in its strength. The urge to quicken into a predator came fiercely upon him.