Her face was slashed repeatedly, the features hacked beyond recognition. A deep cut ran across her throat, likely the first of the cuts, since neighbors would have heard her screams. A small mercy that she’d been dead and not had to endure the pain—a mercy Lilly had not been afforded. Was this what Jack had planned for Lilly, his plan foiled when he and Pierce arrived? He’d not thought Jack capable of harming Lilly, yet he’d mutilated one woman after another. Or had he?
Mason concentrated on the area, but there was no sign of Jack’s energy.
***
The sun started to peek over the horizon when Mason and Pierce finally got back to his home. Corwin was in a chair at Lilly’s side, his face looking older than its years with worry and anger.
“How is she?” Mason ran his hand down her arm, relieved she’d yet to awake, though he still worried about what she’d remember when she finally came to.
“How do ye expect her to be?” Corwin’s voice was strained, barely in control.
So he really did love her. Mason had wondered if Corwin’s feelings were triggered purely by sentiment rather than genuine feeling, but Mason now realized it was not the case. He forced himself to push his jealousy aside, knowing it was not the time or the place.
Mason sat on the edge of the bed and took Lilly’s hand in his. “She’s healed at least. That’s something, at any rate. Shall I send word around when she wakes?”
It was a dismissal that did not escape Corwin. “I’m going nowhere—not until she tells me to go.”
Mason stood, his words spoken through clenched teeth. “I believe you’ve forgotten your place, aye? Lilly’s my wife, not your betrothed.” He was desperate for a fight, and in the mood he was in, Corwin would suit him just fine.
Corwin’s eyes narrowed, filled with spite. “If ye had any consideration for her, then ye’d not have put her in harm’s way to start with. Dragging her to witness vicious murders—is it any wonder she’s been brutalized?”
Mason fisted Corwin’s shirt and shook him. “She was in your care when this happened.”
“It’s no one’s fault.” The voice was fragile and weak.
Lilly. Relief overwhelmed Mason. Ignoring Corwin, he quickly reined in his anger and sat by her side, running a gentle hand down her cheek. “How are you, my love?”
“I’m a bit groggy headed, but otherwise I feel fine.” She pulled her brows together in thought. “It was Stefan.”
“Stefan? Not Jack?” It made no sense. Jack’s energy was there, on her person even. If Stefan was the one who grabbed her then why the hell was Jack there?
“I tried to get free… I used the attack you showed me, but he’d already covered my mouth with a wet cloth.” She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “That’s the last thing I remember.”
Corwin moved closer, “I’m sorry, a ghaoil. I shoudna have left ye. Can ye forgive me?”
Lilly shifted her gaze from Mason to Corwin. “There’s nothing to forgive. You were busy with Nelson and there was no way of knowing Stefan would be waiting.”
Mason ground his teeth. “That’s been the problem from the start, aye? The man has a habit of knowing exactly where you’ll be, and until he’s caught, you’re not to leave Ilymnia.” He then turned to Corwin, fed up with his presence. “Let Pierce know she’s awake before you head home.”
“Lilly…” Corwin pleaded with her.
She took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll come by when I’m able. And thank you for protecting me. I truly mean that.”
He nodded and then stood, leaning over to kiss her atop her head before heading for the door with a final scowl in Mason’s direction.
“I’ll have a bath drawn, and fetch you some tea and breakfast. It’ll do you some good.” Mason took her hand in his, thinking it felt too small and fragile. He’d failed to protect her, and she’d come to unthinkable harm as a result.
“Mason, what happened to me?” She did not look at him as she asked his question, but rather at their linked hands.
How could he answer her? How could he tell her she’d been brutalized and raped? The answer was simple. He could not.
“I don’t know. Best I can tell, the bastard likely used ether or chloroform to subdue you, and then kept feeding you opiates. If you did attack him at the start, then he’d likely not want to risk coming to harm again.” It was a small mercy that the opiates also left her oblivious to what really occurred. “What I don’t understand is why we found Jack’s essence there. It was the reason I suspected Jack.”
“Why would he take me? It doesn’t make sense.”
“There’s a lot not making sense.” Mason turned at the sound of the door opening. After such a long night, Pierce looked haggard and unlike his normal polished self.
“I’m glad to see you’re better, my dear.” Pierce gave her a genuine smile, but when he turned to take the seat Corwin had vacated, his eyes flicked towards Mason in question.
Mason shook his head no. “I was just getting ready to tell her.” He gave Lilly’s hand a squeeze. Though it was not what Pierce was asking him, it was a good cover. “There was another murder. Unlike anything I’ve seen before.”
“Again?” Anguish marred her beautiful face.
“Aye, love. I’m afraid so. But there’s more… there was no trace of Jack.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“Then certainly it must be someone copying the murders. The papers have done nothing but go over the gruesome details time and again.” Lilly shuddered at the thought of another woman dead.
“That brings us back to the dilemma of the matter. If it were a simple murder, then the woman would have been reaped before her death. She had not been, and Jack did not release her soul either, for his presence was not there, love.” Mason gave it more thought. “Yet he’s somehow involved in this mess, even if he’s not the one murdering the women. I just don’t know how or why.”
Pierce leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees, his eyes sparkling. “Jack has obviously had a hand in this affair and is clearly involved. We can’t ignore that.”
Mason sighed while running a rough hand through his dark waves. “Then what’s his role in all this? The reenactments show he’s been a participant in the mutilations of these women—of that we have no doubt. Yet we haven’t seen him actually cut a woman’s throat, although anyone other than a reaper committing the murder leads us back to the beginning—the women would have been reaped.”
“But who’s murdering the women, then? And why would Jack be involved? I can think of no reaper he’d protect.” She could not understand it. “He never showed any signs of madness, Mason. There has to be a reason.”
“I’m sure there is, love. And if he is sane, then whatever his reasons, they’d have to be important enough for him to conduct horrors that seemingly go against his nature and what you knew of him. Did he ever show signs of having a different personality—or even lapses in memory?”
“No, love. Never. Until these murders, he was always the most sane and stable man I’d known.”
Mason bit his bottom lip, his brow furrowed in deep thought. “Each time the victim’s been a prostitute. Is that because he harbors a hatred for these women, because they’re easy targets, or is there some other reason entirely?”
Pierce shook his head. “If Jack’s not murdering the women, then he’s likely not the one picking the victims.”
Mason gave her hand a squeeze. “Lilly, tell me about Jack. What did he value; what was important to him in this life?”
Lilly’s head was spinning with thoughts. “In this life? He valued his privacy and independence, but I cannot say there was much else.”
Mason leaned towards her, his eyes wide and bright. “But it wouldn’t have to be in this life alone, would it. We know how angry he got when we visited his wife, and the time he saved you in the alley—you said he attacked Stefan, no?”
Pierce got up to pace. “And what of last night? What if he was once again there
to save Lilly from Stefan?”
Mason turned to Pierce. “The files. Get them.”
Without another word, Pierce left the room and returned only moments later with his leather case. He unceremoniously dumped the contents on the bed where Mason would have easy access to the items. “You’ve figured it out, haven’t you?”
Mason riffled through the pile—the key, Jack’s pipe, the fob watch, the knife—were all cast aside as he went to the pictures. He looked at one after the other, settling finally on the one they’d seen at the cottage. It was the one taken most recently.
“Here, love. Look.” Mason pointed to Jack’s son.
She took the picture, recognizing Jack as he’d been in life, and also his wife. But it was his son, Emerson, who held her focus. How old was he in the picture? Ten? Maybe eleven? She felt as if she couldn’t breathe. The dark eyes, the dark hair. Yes, there was certainly a resemblance to Jack but there was more. Her heart pounded as she fought to keep her world from spinning out of control.
“It all makes sense, aye? Lilly… Stefan—he’s Jack’s son.”
She struggled to take a breath, to find the words. Mason cupped her cheek and held her close. “You’re all right, love. He’ll not find you again. I swear it.”
Taking strength from his touch, she found her voice. “It would explain why Jack would be involved in such brutality.”
“Aye, love. I just cannot believe I didn’t see it before now.” Mason ran a rough hand down his face, as if trying to scrub the blood back into it. “It explains a lot—though not everything. Stefan has the gift of sight, and if he was able to anticipate where you’d be, then he’d also have the ability to know when we’d be coming for Jack. He’d warn him, aye? No wonder we always just missed him.”
Pierce shook his head, his eyes distant. “We know Jack was gifted. These things tend to pass through families, no? It all makes sense.”
“Aye, and if he was gifted and Jack’s son, then maybe—somehow—he was able to murder these women without them being reaped.” Mason could think of no other explanation.
A ragged breath escaped Lilly’s lips. “Do you think it’s him then? Do you think Stefan’s the murderer?”
“Aye. I do.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Lilly, you’re not to leave the house until we get back—not when Jack and Stefan are on the loose.” Mason swallowed his fears. Now aware of what Stefan was capable of, Mason could not stop thinking of what the bastard could have done to her. Had Jack put a stop to it? Perhaps that was the reason he’d been there.
Mason thought of the latest victim—the sheer fury and violence of the attack. If Stefan had been prevented from continuing his sick games with Lilly, it made sense he’d take out his frustration on the next victim.
“I want to come with you. Poor Jack…” Lilly yanked back the covers, when Mason put a stop to it with a quick hand on her shoulder.
“Lilly, you cannot come, love.” He’d be damned if he’d put her in harm’s way again. He’d already failed to keep her safe, and he’d not make the same mistake twice.
Not wanting to get into an argument with her, he turned to Pierce, determined to get back to the matter at hand. “Do we have that list of Jack’s properties and those of his family? I need Stefan’s address.”
“Mason, please.” Lilly hopped out of bed, but her legs were unsteady.
He caught her in time, encircling her in his arms, his eyes on hers as he spoke. “Pierce, if we could have a moment.”
“I’ll go and check on any properties Stefan might own.”
He helped her back into bed and sat by her side. “Listen, love, you’re still weak from your ordeal, and I cannot be worrying about you when trying to catch a killer.” He brushed her cheek, her skin smooth and warm to the touch.
“I thought the opiates had worn off. I don’t understand.” She closed her eyes and leaned back.
She didn’t know the condition they’d found her in—could not know, especially with the latest revelations that Stefan was likely the murderer. Though she no longer bore the visual marks of her ordeal, her body was still healing and as a young reaper, it would be some time before she regained her strength. He could only hope that she’d not figure out her weakness wasn’t due to the opiates but rather the injuries she’d sustained and the healing process.
He tried to ease her worries and distract her. “You’ve yet to have that bath, love, and I’m sure you must be hungry. None of this is your concern now and it’ll all be over before you know it.”
She held onto him, her hands fisted around the cloth of his shirt. “Promise me you’ll stay safe. I could not bear you coming to harm.”
“I promise, love.”
***
As they headed into London, Mason glanced through the list Pierce handed him. There were three properties—a main residence owned by Stefan, and then two smaller properties leased in his name. “You sent word to the Elders and sent men to the other two addresses?”
“I did. And might I add, it was a stroke of brilliance to have Stefan assigned to you as a reap. Even if he knows we’re coming, we’ll still be able to track him. It’s only a matter of time before he’s caught.” Pierce beamed at him, his eyes wide with excitement.
“The murders were justification enough to change the date of his death.” Mason need not mention he wanted to strangle the bastard for what he did to Lilly—death was a mercy Stefan did not deserve. “Anything to put a stop to this mess.”
He could feel the tug of the reap and knew they’d be returning once more to the building where they found Lilly. Sliding the small wooden door to the side, he gave his driver the address. “Same as last night.” He pulled out his pistol and made sure it was loaded and ready, Pierce following suit. “We’re going in armed. The man is dangerous, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let this turn into a blasted chase.”
Mason sat back and said little more the rest of the journey, every muscle tense with anticipation. And then the pull of the reap started to fade.
“Damn it, I’m losing him.”
Chapter Forty
Jack knew where Emerson would be, just like he’d always known, their bond inseparable even with his death. Not bothering to knock, he unlocked the door and let himself in.
He was sitting there on the bed, Lilly’s blood still staining the covers.
“I blame myself.” Jack shook his head. The image of his son brutalizing Lilly was too much to bear, the tipping point in his hell. “I should have put a stop to it from the start.”
Emerson laughed. “You cannot blame yourself, father. You’ve always been the sentimental sort, and you could not possibly have known that my… gift would link me to your actions as a reaper.”
Jack knew it was his fault. All of it. Emerson was only ten when Jack became a reaper, but his psychic abilities kept them linked—not only to him but to those Jack touched as a reaper. Unbeknownst to Jack, his son witnessed the passing—brutal or otherwise—of every person Jack reaped. So many of them, day after day. Could anyone stay sane after witnessing so much death?
And it was that link to Jack—to a reaper—that allowed Emerson to murder those women without them first being reaped, allowed their life to be taken before their time. His son had managed to step into his world— a world of death and darkness, a world belonging to reapers.
“It has to stop, Emerson.”
He interrupted him. “I’ve told you, I prefer to go by my second name. It’s Stefan now—Stefan Harper. Emerson Torrington died when you did, father. He died when you left us all in the care of that bastard. Did you care that he was cruel to your children? To your wife?” Stefan’s brown eyes, so much like his own, held his gaze. “You walked amongst us, and yet you did nothing to put a stop to our hell.”
“You’re right. I should have found a way to intervene.” Jack shook his head, not sure how it had come to this. “And I blame myself for what you’ve become. I did my best to keep you from detection—f
rom the Elders and the police—but I can do it no more.”
Brutalizing those women—all to keep his son from being caught. He should not have done it. Better to have let Stefan get caught and suffer the consequences, than let it go on as it did. Jack’s pulse thundered away, despair and anger filling his head and heart. “You should not have touched Lilly.”
“Ah… sweet Lilly. I must say, I enjoyed her the most.” His eyes were distant, as if recalling precious memories. “Pity you put an end to it, father. I did not care for the interruption.”
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