She pressed her hand against her tummy, rubbing it and thinking about her baby. Damn it! As much as I want to help, I can’t risk my baby’s life any longer. She sighed. What would Silas do? She paused for a tense moment. He wouldn’t quit. Then again, what would Dalton do? He’d be smart about it. She let out a deep breath. Think, Posy! After mulling over her decision, she reluctantly turned around and headed back inside the hospital.
Once she reached the east wing, the minute she stepped inside the hallway, she knew something was wrong. She saw the nurse’s head slumped over her desk with a blank expression on her face. Most of the lanterns had been turned off, and she could sense death lingering about.
Fearing the worst, she ran up to the desk and took a closer look at the nurse. Belloc.
She ran as fast as she could towards his room, passing the dead officer on the floor. But once she entered, she found no one inside. What the hell?
Little did Posy know that, one floor down, her dear friend, Belloc, was running for his life. Well, for the most part, his orderly, Charles, was doing all the running, or as much running as one could do pushing a wheelchair down a dark hallway.
“Come on, Charles.” Belloc grabbed on to the wheelchair’s arms. “Can’t this thing go any faster?”
“I’m trying, Inspector,” Charles replied, moving his feet as fast as they could go. “I can only push this thing so fast without it toppling over. Plus, it’s not like I’m getting any help from the stiff wheels.”
“Don’t let him reach us.” Belloc looked back. “He’s gaining on us.”
“Well, it wouldn’t be that hard. Heck, he could walk and still reach us with me trying to push this monstrosity of a chair, and it’s not like your weight is helping, either.”
“What are you talking about my weight? Have you been talking to Posy?”
“She mentioned something about it.”
“There, turn the corner.” Belloc pointed towards the right as they reached the end of the hall. “Do you think there’s an elevator in this hospital?”
“Why on earth would we want to go on that thing?” Charles said, turning the corner.
“I just don’t feel like experiencing going down a set of stairs again with this clunky chair.”
“Hey, I did the best I could!” Charles steadfastly pushed Belloc down the western hall, occasionally passing a nurse or two, who seemed bewildered by his actions.
Behind them, about twenty yards away, was Mr. Factory Liberty Hotel, who chased after them using a brisk pace, calm and collected. “Good evening,” he said as he passed a nurse.
“Hey, who are you?” the nurse asked, approaching him. “You can’t be here.”
He took out his knife, but the nurse had enough sense not to get any closer, and when she saw the shiny object come out, she turned and sped way.
Mr. Factory knew that he had little time to reach Belloc before the whole hospital woke up, so he picked up his pace by jogging after them.
Up ahead, Charles and Belloc neared the end of the hallway, when Belloc turned to look behind them.
“Do you see anything?” Charles asked.
“I think he’s far behind us. No, wait. He’s still there. He’s running now. Damn it, Charles, get this thing going faster.”
“That’s not possible.” Charles tried his best to push harder and accidentally crashed into a couple of dinner carts that were parked near one of the rooms. The sound of the crash woke everyone up around them.
“Argh!” Belloc shouted. “Watch where you’re going, Charles!”
“Do you want to do this by yourself?”
“No.”
“Then zip your mouth shut and let me handle this.”
They turned another corner and Charles saw that they were approaching another set of stairs.
“Is that what I think it is?” Belloc asked.
“Yep, and you’re just going to have to hold on.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Belloc cried out, gripping his armrests tightly.
A few seconds later, they reached the stairs, but to their dismay, the door was locked.
“Oh, you have got to be joking,” Charles said.
“Locked? Why is it locked?”
“I don’t know.” Charles fumbled through his keys, trying to find the right one. “No one really uses these stairs.”
“We’re running out of time.”
“Here we go.” Charles tried the key. Didn’t work. “Damn it.” He knew that it would take him forever to get the door open and that he had to come up with something quick. “Okay, okay. We’re going to have to hide.”
“What? No, hiding is not good, not good at all. We have to keep moving.”
“It’ll be all right, Inspector. It’s easy. We’ll find a good spot to hide. Didn’t you ever play hide-and-seek when you were just a lad?”
“Did I play it? Of course I did, but when I played it, I didn’t get killed if I was found.”
“Not to worry, Inspector, we’ll find somewhere good to hide.” Charles took hold of the wheelchair and looked around for a good hiding spot. “He’s not going to find us, I promise.” Searching the surrounding perimeter, he found what seemed to be a public washroom. Dashing inside, he found it quite spacious for him to set Belloc near one of the corners of the room. Hearing Mr. Factory starting to walk down the hall, he immediately thought of something. He turned the sink on with the hot water turned all the way up. He then grabbed a bowl and placed it under the running water, filling it up to the brim. He took Belloc and wheeled him to where he was right in front of the door, just a couple of feet away.
“What are you doing?” Belloc asked, fearing for his life. “I thought the plan was to hide?”
“Well, I changed my mind. Here.” He gave Belloc the water. “Get ready to splash him with this, and be careful—it’s scalding hot. Immediately after you throw it, we’re going to barge straight through him.”
Charles made sure to keep the water running so as to signal to Mr. Factory that someone was using the washroom. Patiently, and full of nerves, they waited for Mr. Factory to make his way down the hall. The loud sounds of his leather-soled shoes tapped against the tile floor, making Belloc’s heart leap out of his chest with every footstep taken by the mysterious man in the fedora hat.
In no time, Mr. Factory reached the washroom door, and sensing that someone was inside, he grabbed hold of the doorknob, turning it slowly, making sure not to alert anyone of his presence. But little did he know that he had a surprise coming for him.
Once the doorknob turned and the door crept open, Belloc met face to face with his pursuer. Without hesitating, Belloc quickly let the bowl of hot water launch all over Mr. Factory, sending him into a pit of rage. Instantly, Charles grabbed hold of the wheelchair’s handles and pushed through Mr. Factory as hard as he could, knocking him down and onto the far wall of the dimly lit hallway.
“Contact, good sir!” Belloc said as he trampled over Mr. Factory on his way out of the washroom.
Charles made a swift turn to the right, and with all of his strength started to run as fast as he could, pushing Belloc in front of him.
“There it is!” Belloc pointed to the hospital’s one elevator. “Let’s go! Come on!”
“Have you ever used one of those things?”
“No. Don’t you know? You work here.”
“I normally take the stairs.”
“Are you serious?” Belloc asked, shaking his head. “Well, just get us to the elevator.”
Charles and Belloc made their way down the hall towards the elevator, stopping at its door.
“You need to grab the handle,” Belloc said.
“Which handle?”
“The only one available! Look down there.”
“Oh, right.” Charles bent over and grabbed the handle in order to open up the iron gate leading inside.
“Put me in. Hurry! Let’s go!”
“I’m going as fast as I can,” Charles complained as he grabbed hold o
f the wheelchair and then pushed Belloc inside the large elevator.
“Now close the gate. Close it. Use the same handle.”
“Okay.” Charles tugged at the handle and closed the gate.
Just then, they saw Mr. Factory turn the corner. Full of rage, Mr. Factory charged towards the elevator.
“Let’s go!” Belloc said.
Charles stood there, frozen.
“What are you doing?”
“What do you mean?” Charles said. “I’m waiting for the elevator to move.”
“It’s not going to move by itself. You have to pull the lever down.”
“Lever? What lever?”
“That one there.” Belloc pointed to a large lever positioned near a big panel on the right wall.
“Oh.” Charles reached for the lever and pulled it down. The elevator turned on and began to go through its start-up process. “What’s it doing?”
“I don’t know. It’s supposed to be moving.”
“Well, it’s not.”
“I guess it takes time for it to move.”
“Well, we don’t have time to waste.”
And right when he spoke those words, both of them were caught off guard by Mr. Factory slamming into the iron gates, thrusting his arm inside as he tried to stab Charles with his knife.
Screaming, Charles leapt backwards, keeping himself away from Mr. Factory’s reach.
“Come out of there you sons of bitches,” Mr. Factory Liberty Hotel screeched. “I’m going to carve you up slowly and skin you alive! I want to drain your blood. I want to drink it!” He kept reaching inside, but to no avail. Belloc and Charles were too far away for him to do any damage.
At last the elevator began to slowly descend, but right as it did, Belloc’s eyes flared with despair, for what he saw at that moment made his bones hurt with worry. As he descended, all he could see was Posy walking towards them near the far end of the hall, oblivious to his dilemma.
Noticing Belloc’s gaze, Mr. Factory turned his head to look at what he ogled at, spotting an innocent Posy walking down the hall, checking each room, desperately trying to find her dear friend, whom she believed to be in peril. Mr. Factory turned back to Belloc and gave him a sinister smile while he slowly licked his knife.
“Posy,” Belloc whispered as he descended. “No.”
***
Miles away, embedded deep within the sleeping city, a light turned on inside an unsuspecting taxidermy shop.
“Oh, don’t worry, dear,” Klaus Factory of Boston said. “No one knows we’re here, not even the owner of this place. He’s fast asleep inside his quaint bedroom; I paid him a visit earlier today.” He gestured to Frances. “Please, do come in.”
“Why am I here?” Frances asked. “Why did you take me? Why don’t you just kill me and get it over with?”
“Oh, no, Miss Dupuys. I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“What is it that you want from me?”
“Well, to put it bluntly, I want you to be my wife.”
Frances shuddered at the thought. “Your what?”
“I want you to spend the rest of your life with me.” Klaus motioned for her to go up the stairs towards the second floor.
As Frances made her way up, she couldn’t help but feel repulsed by the amount of stuffed animals on display.
“Come and sit down at the table near the end of the room while I get our things ready.”
“What things?”
“Just sit, please.”
Frances made her way down the room towards the table, keeping her elbows in and her hands close to her chest, as if disgusted by the sight of all the animated animal faces. Reaching the table, she sat down, quivering from the amount of nervousness flowing through her body. Scared, she observed the room, and as she searched, she heard a faint noise to her right, as if water dripped on the table next to her arm. But when she turned to look down, she saw that it was red and thick.
Blood. But from where?
She looked up and saw that Lucy Reilly’s head and upper body had been mounted on the wall next to her, indefinitely posed with her hands up and her face in pure horror, as if her last moment before her death were frozen in time. It was still fresh, and a stream of blood dripped down its side. Apparently, what Silas had failed to notice back at Lucy’s crime scene was that she had been cut straight in two and the top half taken as a keepsake by Mr. Factory.
Frances began to hyperventilate.
Right away, Klaus ran up to the table and took out a handkerchief to wipe the blood away. “You have to forgive me, Miss Dupuys. I just finished this work, and I made quite a mess of it. Normally I would thoroughly clean it before working on it, but I felt this one needed to be a bit more...authentic.”
Frances screamed.
Klaus grabbed her and put his hand over her mouth. “Now, I wouldn’t go doing that, Miss Dupuys. We certainly don’t want to wake up the whole neighborhood. It’s all right. Nothing is going to happen to you. Like I said, I have plans for us. Now, please, do calm down.”
Frances calmed her breathing.
“There, there. Yes, that’s much better.” He stepped away from Frances and continued packing his things in a couple of suitcases. “As I was saying, we’re going to be married soon.”
“My parents won’t let that happen.”
“Your parents won’t know. Unfortunately for them, they’ll just believe that you died along with your baby, never to be found. I’m sorry, Frances, but that was the deal.”
“What deal?”
“The deal I made with the Society.”
“You mean the deal you made with Mr. Decamps?”
“No, dear, the deal I made with Mrs. de Morangias. You see, whenever a situation like this happens, there are always two types of payments, and it’s never money. The first payment goes to one of the brothers, and it’s usually in the form of flesh. The second payment goes to the factory, which is delivered as a shipment to our island, and that shipment usually is comprised of a certain number of boys.”
“Are you talking about the kidnappings? But why?”
“To replenish the brotherhood, of course.”
“Brotherhood?”
“Oh, dear child, yes. There are many of us. We are everywhere, behind every shadow.”
Frances shivered with fright.
“Don’t be afraid. I won’t let anything happen to you. I would never let anything happen to my new love. We’re going to get married and raise that child of yours as our own. The only way I’ll be able to blend into society is for me to take a wife. That’s the only way I’ll be able to keep on doing what I do.”
“What you do?”
“Killing, child.”
Frances began to cry, trembling and rubbing her arms up and down.
“My dear Miss Dupuys, please. I can’t stand any more of your tears. Don’t worry, I’ll make a good home for the child, and of course, I’ll want more children.”
Frances gasped. The thought of having Klaus’s children terrified her.
Klaus walked up to her. “Oh, no, Frances. You don’t have to worry. You’ll never have my seed.” He unzipped his pants and showed her his damaged testicles. “From the war. You see, I’ll never be able to have children, though the important part does work.”
Frances kept quiet as he zipped his pants back up and walked away.
“You think that’s a good thing? That you won’t have my children?”
Frances stayed quiet.
Klaus just grinned. “But don’t worry, Frances. You’ll have plenty of children. Just not with me. I plan to breed you to good stock, and we’ll have many children, hopefully all boys. Then I can teach them everything I know.”
Klaus walked up to a window. “I think our ride is here.” He finished closing up the suitcases and then stepped up to Frances, caressing her face. “From now on you’ll be known as Mathilda Waltz, my wife and the love of my life.” He kissed her on her cheek as she squirmed in disgust. “Now, come on. Take
the luggage down to the carriage. I’ll be out in a moment.”
Frances reluctantly stood up and walked towards the luggage. She grabbed the suitcases and struggled to get them down the long set of stairs.
***
TAP, TAP, TAP, went the sound of Mr. Factory’s curved knife as he struck it against the metal railings attached to the bleached, white hospital walls. Posy stood paralyzed at the other end, recognizing the killer’s intentions immediately, knowing quite well that she was in danger.
“So you must be Miss Posy Chapman,” Mr. Factory Liberty Hotel said. “And here I thought I was going to have to go looking for you, yet here you are, looking for me. Splendid! Or was it that crippled old man you were looking for? Doesn’t really matter. You’re both going to die tonight. The order of deaths is quite irrelevant.”
He approached her while Posy searched deep within her thoughts, looking for a way to deal with her situation.
“I can see the wheels spinning in your head all the way from here. Don’t bother. You won’t escape me. No one ever does. I’m going to use my hand to reach all the way inside you and rip that baby’s head apart.”
His horrific comment made Posy snap back to life, and her eyes narrowed, and her body stiffened. She took Little Lass and slid it down her belt all the way behind her. She then revealed her Manstopper to Mr. Factory.
“Oh, my, what’s a little girl like you doing with that man’s gun?” Mr. Factory stopped just fifteen feet away from her. He swept his overcoat to the side and revealed his own revolver. “Go ahead. I’ll let you take it out.”
Posy reached for her gun, and when she took it out, she hesitated, and making a quick decision, she then grabbed the gun with her left hand, even though she was right-handed. She raised Manstopper up to Mr. Factory. “So you’re going to shoot me, then?”
“No, I’m going to shoot the gun out of your hand and then disembowel you before I take my time skinning you alive.”
“Go ahead and try it…”
And before Posy could say anything else, Mr. Factory reached for his gun, pulled it and fired a shot through Posy’s hand, tearing a hole in her palm and forcing Posy to drop her gun. It all happened in a flash. Posy grabbed at her wounded hand, falling to her knees.
The Valentine Circle Page 37