“I’m afraid I never really had the urge to venture out into the world. I guess I preferred to remain isolated, for the most part. I’m comfortable with just being alone with myself. I didn’t see a reason to carelessly inflict myself into the world.”
“Inflict yourself? What do you mean?”
“Let me ask you something, Miss Reilly. Would you want to release a deadly, life-consuming virus into the world, one that would stop at nothing to eliminate all of life as we know it?”
“I don’t get your meaning.”
“Well, it’s like that with me. The more I am exposed to the world, the more people…well, to put it bluntly, die.”
“I...beg your pardon.” Lucy’s hand began trembling, forcing her to put the pencil down.
“For the better part of my life, I had been taught and fed the idea of a meaningless existence—to be human was to be a random set of movements. You see, Miss Reilly, when all of life’s meaning has been stripped away from one’s soul, all that is left is death, death as a mode of existence. And when all that is left is death, only in killing can I find an ounce of life, just before that life is abruptly snuffed out from this world. In this vacuum of meaningless death, the only time I’m exposed to a glimmer of life in its purest form is during those few seconds when I take a life away from another, and therefore, if I consistently yearn for life in a meaningless world of death, what is there left for me to do...but to kill and kill again?”
“What do you mean, when you kill?” Lucy asked, panicking.
“I am happy only when I’m closest to life, and that is when my victims are closest to death.”
“Victims?” Lucy now feared for her life. “What do you mean, Carlisle? Why are you saying these things?”
“I am merely answering your questions, Miss Reilly.”
“I...I...said to c-call me Lucy.”
“Yes, Lucy, and you can now call me Klaus.”
“Klaus?”
“That is my true name, Miss Reilly. Klaus Factory of Boston.”
“I don’t understand. If you’re not Carlisle, then who are you?”
“I’m the one who’s going to give you a choice.”
“A choice? Of what?”
“To die here, or to take your chances out in the back alley, where I will pursue you until I kill you. I left the back door unlocked. If you choose the back alley, you’ll have more time to say your prayers and set yourself right with God.”
Lucy began shaking. A tear ran down her cheek. “You’re joking, right?”
“I’m afraid I’m not. I’m not the type to joke around. Your sister should know something of that.”
“Oh God.” Lucy began to subtly wet herself, a puddle of her urine forming on the floor beside her. “Please don’t hurt me.”
“Oh my. You’ve gone and made a mess.”
“Please, Carlisle.” Her voice trembled. “Please don’t hurt me. Please just let me go. I won’t tell anyone about what you said to me.”
“I’m sorry, Lucy, but I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“Please.”
“Lucy, you and I both know what is going to happen next. I’m sorry, but I can’t let you just walk away.”
A moment passed as dread filled Lucy’s soul.
Klaus put his knife on the table. “Let’s begin.”
*
“WAKE UP!” Mendel said as he splashed Silas with a bucket of water.
Springing up to his knees, Silas woke up in a state of shock, gasping for air, his eyes bugging out of his skull. He fell to the floor.
“Get him up.”
A couple of officers grabbed Silas and secured both his arms to a set of iron chains that hung from the ceiling. Coming back to life, Silas realized he was in an obscure jail cell located somewhere in the Boston Police Department’s prison quarter.
“Back away,” Mendel said.
The two officers stepped back and gave their silver-haired leader his space.
Mendel approached Silas. “Who are you?” he said to him. “I’ve had this gnawing pressure in the back of my head since the day I first set my eyes on you. You’re something of an enigma. I’ve had plenty of conversations about you with my sister, trying to figure out exactly what you are.”
“I feel special knowing that I’ve occupied so much of your intimate thoughts.”
Mendel smiled. “Right. I think it’s time we learned just who you are.” He turned around and grabbed a pair of rusty brass knuckles, feeling quite excited about slipping his fingers into its dirty holes. “I’m going to ask you some simple questions, and you’d better answer.” He paused. “Who are you really? What did Belloc hire you for?”
“I don’t really know.”
“Of course you don’t. I was hoping you’d be smarter than that.” And without any warning, he punched Silas in the ribs as hard as he could, forcing him to scream out in pain. Mendel gave Silas some time to catch his breath before letting him speak again.
“I’m telling you the truth. I really don’t know who I am. I found myself in Boston without any memories of my former life.”
The officers behind Mendel snickered to themselves.
“Wow,” Mendel replied. “That’s incredibly insulting, to think that we’re so stupid. And it’s quite convenient, I may add. I guess your answer once again is I don’t know? I just want to make sure before I strike you across the jaw.”
Silas didn’t say anything.
“So?”
Silas looked up at him, not really having a say in the matter, and he nodded to him. “That’s my answer.”
“Good.” Mendel slowly wound back his arm and then struck him solidly across the jaw with the brass knuckles.
The force of the impact made Silas buckle, and a stream of blood shot out of his mouth. He could do nothing but groan, reacting to the overwhelming sensation of pain.
“Look at him go down,” one officer said, “and very early in the fight, no less.”
“Yes, it’s quite pathetic, don’t you think?” Mendel added. “You know, I’ve been tortured a few times in my life. My sister, Merle, has been tortured even more.” Mendel grabbed Silas’s hair and pulled him up to his face. “And she never buckled.”
“Well,” Silas said, barely able to talk. “Next time I see your sister, I’ll congratulate her.”
Mendel grinned. “I’m surprised you can talk. I must have not hit you as hard as I thought.”
“Well, it has been a while since you’ve done this,” one of the officers chimed in.
Mendel backed away. “Yes, indeed it has.” He took off his brass knuckles. He turned to his officers. “I’ll be back in a second.” He exited the jail cell.
Silas watched him go. While he waited, he looked around the cell, searching for anything that might aid him in escaping, but found nothing; the room was completely bare, with only a table stationed near one of the corners. Looks like I’ll be here for the long run.
Mendel made it back to the cell, with his sister following close behind. “Well, here she is. You said you wanted to congratulate her the next time you saw her. Did you not?” he prodded, to which Silas nodded. “Well, congratulate her.”
Merle crossed her arms, waiting for his answer.
Silas tilted his head up. “Cong…congratulations, Miss Merle. You are as strong as an ox, both in mind…and appearance.” He ended his compliment with a large grin.
Merle turned to her brother. “I’ll have a go at him.” She stepped up to Silas. “You know, I was beaten for over seven days the last time I was, um, unjustifiably interrogated.”
“Seven days?” Silas said, amazed. “I guess that would explain your face.”
“Don’t get smart,” Mendel snapped.
“It’s okay, brother. I have an answer for him.” She pulled out a knife and proceeded to cut off his shirt, stripping him down to his bare chest. “Oh, my.”
“Why, Miss Merle, I didn’t know you still had the urge,” Silas remarked.
M
erle winced at his comment. She backed up a few feet. “One of the things they did to me when I was captured back in the war was to use me as a punching bag. Those Confederate soldiers didn’t discriminate between men and women. Ever since then, I always wanted to try it myself.”
Without wasting any more time, she stepped up to Silas and began whaling at his midsection as if she were training for a boxing match, punching him like he was a heavy bag. With the blows came a slew of yells and screams, followed by deep groans, yet Silas did his best to take in all the pain.
But after almost a minute of the brutal beating, the pain began to overtake him, and it seemed that he was close to passing out. His mind turned inward, and a voice sparked inside his thoughts.
“Shi, listen to me. The physical world has a way of putting limits on everything that you do, always working against your truest desires. But it can also work for you. Take pain, for example. Yes, there are limits to what your body can endure, but your mind is limitless, eternal. To your mind, there are no limits, but only plateaus, and you must not remain in those self-inflicted cages. You must reach beyond them and operate at a higher level. You must see yourself outside of your pain in order to gain control of it. Once you’ve mastered this control, you can empty yourself of all the pain inside your body and refill it with a transcendent power, and only then will you become invincible.”
Silas opened his eyes.
“Ah, there he is. Are you ready for the second round?”
Silas nodded.
“Hmm.” Merle was surprised at his willingness to continue. Quickly, she stepped up to him and started delivering blows to his ribs and stomach.
But this time Silas remained calm, staring at his captor with an intense energy, taking the blows as if he wore a suit of armor.
Once Merle had exhausted herself, she backed away from him, confused by his reaction. “I might have to try something harder this time.”
“No,” said a voice coming from outside the cell. “You’ve done enough damage. He’s an officer, after all.” The owner of the voice revealed himself in the light of the dim lanterns. “Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting you to get captured so soon,” Mr. Decamps said. “I must admit you had me worried at first. I thought you were some type of foreign outlaw I had to figure out a way to deal with. But now I see that’s not the case. I thought maybe Inspector Belloc had drawn his ace card, the only one he had left up his sleeve, but no. It seems he has nothing left to use, now that you’re being booked for the crimes of—what was it again?”
“Killing your daughter,” Mendel replied.
“Oh, yes, killing my daughter. What a horrible crime, don’t you think?”
“You tell me,” Silas replied, disgusted with his indifference.
Mr. Decamps smirked. “Oh, and let’s not forget the brutal slaying of dear Dr. Sabatini. That was just an absolute shock.”
“If you say so. I don’t see how you’re going to be able to pin that on me.”
“By simply saying so. You see, that’s the power I have.”
“Well, that explains why you would kill your own daughter, to keep that power.”
“What do you know of power?” Mr. Decamps struck Silas’s face. “And even if that were true, who are you to say what I can or can’t do?”
“I am an officer of the law.”
“You are no officer of my law.”
Silas’s veins bulged on his neck.
“Careful there, Officer. Anger is not going to help you. It’ll just wear you out.”
“What do you plan to do with me?”
“Well, the same thing we did with your obnoxious boss, and that is to simply place you aside while this thing of ours blows over.”
“This thing?”
“The plan.”
“So you are part of it.”
“Everyone is part of the plan. Most people just aren’t smart enough to know it.”
“Were you the one that hired Mr. Factory?”
“Hired? No one hires a disease, Officer de San Michel. One just simply arranges for something to be let loose, and then you let nature take its course.”
“Well, it seems to me as if nature has derailed off course.”
Mr. Decamps scowled. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Did you ever stop to think how you’d be able to stop and contain what you and your elitist friends let loose upon this world?”
Mr. Decamps kept quiet.
“That’s what I figured.”
“What’s your point? Your world and mine exist entirely on two different planes, and this disease, or howsoever you choose to call Mr. Factory, is a part of yours, not mine.”
“For now.”
“That will never happen.”
“Nobody’s world is safe from evil, even when that evil comes from nothing but evil. There’s always a reckoning, a settling of accounts.”
“You obviously don’t know our world, Officer de San Michel.” Mr. Decamps turned to Mendel. “Keep him locked up until all is finished and the circle is complete.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mr. Decamps turned back to Silas. “Oh, and if you’re wondering, we are going to pay a visit to the girl and her baby.”
Silas’s rage took control of him, and he lunged at Mr. Decamps, yet his chains held him back. “How did you know about her baby?”
“Miss Chapman went to see a doctor a few days ago, a doctor that we’re well acquainted with.”
“Why do you need her?”
“She’s a threat.”
“You’re not going to hurt her, are you?”
“Oh, yes,” Merle said. “We’re certainly going to do that.”
“No, you bitch!” Silas lunged at Merle, but she managed to step aside and deck him on his left temple with her wooden billy club. The force of the blow made Silas lose consciousness. Blood seeped from the side of his head.
“Careful!” Mr. Decamps shouted. “We want him alive.” He turned to Mendel. “Tend to that wound immediately, and no more screwups. After you’re done here, meet me at my house.”
“Will do, Mr. Decamps.”
“Good. Make sure you clean up here as well.”
“At your service,” Merle said, with a tone to her voice.
Mr. Decamps left while his men tended to Silas’s injuries.
***
While Silas hung inside a cold and dreary prison cell, across the city, inside Horace and Posy’s quaint townhome, screaming could be heard coming from their master bedroom.
But these screams weren’t sounds of pain.
In the midst of a few dim lanterns, Posy and Horace were between the sheets, making love passionately, as if desperately trying to rekindle their relationship. Nearing climax, Horace placed himself on top, grabbing and squeezing Posy’s hands. He moaned excessively, straining his face with a long overdue feeling of ecstasy while Posy rubbed his chest, happy for the intimacy they were experiencing together. After Horace had his orgasm, he fell on top of her, exhausted and out of breath.
Intertwined amongst a few layers of damp sheets, they lay there in silence for a few minutes, letting their hearts slow down and their breathing reach a normal state. Finally, Horace propped himself up over Posy.
“That took a lot out of you,” Posy said, kissing his forearms.
“I almost forgot how great it felt.”
“Me too,” she said, caught in the moment, smiling as her body tingled all over. “Maybe we should do it more often.” Posy was in such a state of disbelief that she was beginning to think she could repair the relationship she had with Horace, or maybe she was just trying to forget about Silas and his long-lost love.
“Yes, about that.” Horace raised his head, staring into her eyes. “I don’t think we’ll be sleeping together ever again. To be quite honest, I didn’t really want to go through the trouble of sleeping with you this time around, but I just had this overwhelming urge to have you one last time before I left with no regrets.”
Slowly, her smile began to wane. “Excuse me?”
“Did you not hear what I said?”
“I did, but I can’t believe you said it. What do you mean, you’re leaving?”
“It’s not too terribly complex.” He rose and forcefully pulled out of her, while simultaneously slipping her engagement ring off her finger.
“Ouch! What are you doing?”
“It’s about time I traded you in for something better,” he replied as he got up from the bed and put his robe on.
“What did you say?” Posy sat up, using the bed sheets to cover her naked body.
Horace left the room.
“Don’t you walk away!” She waited in silence for an answer and then heard him speaking to someone out in the den.
“In the bedroom,” Horace said, his voice faintly trailing in.
Posy started to worry. Seconds later, a few officers entered her room. Clarkson was the last one to enter. A cold chill ran down Posy’s spine. “What are y’all doing here?”
“Y’all?” Clarkson replied. “I don’t know if I can put up with that filthy accent.”
“Do your best,” Horace said.
“What are you doing, Horace? Why are they here? Why did you let them in?”
“Because of their offer,” Horace replied. “I certainly wasn’t going to turn down a judgeship.”
“Their offer?”
“Don’t play dumb, Posy. The Society came to me and offered me what you couldn’t, which was everything I ever wanted. As soon as I handed you over to them, I would instantly be given a judgeship, including four times the salary that I earn now, plus a seat at their table. And—you’re going to love this—they promised me a new wife, one just as pretty as you, heck, even prettier. But, more importantly, one that is a bit more, how can I put this, subservient.”
“You bastard!” Posy cried out.
“No, the bastard will be the child that’s cooking in your oven, because I certainly won’t be a father to him.”
“Lucky for the child,” she quipped as a tear ran down her face.
Clarkson suddenly struck her across the jaw, the force of the punch slamming her on the bed and forcing the bed sheets to fly off her body. “Oh, now that is a sight.” Clarkson ogled at Posy’s naked body.
The Valentine Circle Page 30