by Lora Edwards
“Can I touch it,” Teagan asked.
“Of course.” Ovidia brought her arm up and Teagan ran her finger down the blade, feeling a low thrum move through her body; it was like touching a low voltage wire.
“That is some weapon you got there.”
“All Valkyries have one. You haven’t seen the best part yet.”
Ovidia moved back and swung the sword in a large arc before moving it toward her side as if to holster it. The sword simply disappeared.
“What happened to it?” Teagan asked.
“It is still there. It is with me always; has been since the day I was born. When I was old enough to walk, my mother began my training. My sword and I grew up together, and it is a part of me.”
“What is with the big blue stone? Does everyone have one of those or is that just your own personal touch, like you have to bedazzle everything you own?”
Ovidia rolled her eyes. “I would never bedazzle anything; that is so tacky. To answer your other question, yes, all Valkyries have them. Each sword is different, tuned to the bearer and their specific talents.”
“You have talents? I mean other than a mean fashion sense and being able to wield a sword like a major badass,” Teagan teased.
“Yes, my talent is time travel. Not all supernaturals can do it. We are a somewhat rare breed. Each flavor, I guess you could say, of supernatural has a few that can, except for elves—they all can time travel. It is one of the ways they can come to the human world from Faery.”
“Hmmm, good to know. Well, I’ll let you get back to it. Bran spilled the beans about the Ripper diary so I am off to peruse that.”
Ovidia’s eyes darkened. “It is a bit disturbing Teag, and may be for you particularly. Just remember we are here to protect you, okay?”
“Ummm, okay. You act like he is my own personal stalker,” Teagan said as she walked out of the room.
“Something like that,” Ovidia mumbled when Teagan was out of earshot. She pumped up the music again and resumed her battle practice. If that thing thought it was coming for her best friend, he better thinks again.
Oblivious to Ovidia’s comment, Teagan went to her room to have Victoria help her out of the many layers of her Victorian dress. Once free of her morning gown, she slipped into her “strange modern clothes”, as Victoria liked to call them. Teagan called them leggings and a t-shirt, and they were much more conducive to doing research than corsets, petticoats, and long skirts.
“Do you require anything else my lady,” Victoria asked, her hand on the door knob.
“Victoria, we talked about this—just call me Teagan. I am not your lady.”
“Yes, Teagan. Remember you have the garden party tonight. I will be back in plenty of time to help you dress.”
Teagan waived her away, already opening the leather cover of the journal. “Yeah, yeah, more dresses, more dancing—I’ll be here.”
Victoria smiled again and softly shut the door.
Written in small, cramped handwriting were the thoughts of Jack the Ripper. Bran thought she was the key, but how would she know who he was?
I completed my first masterpiece today.
It was just as thrilling as I believed it would be, even more so than I could have ever imagined.
The feel of her blood as it gushed over my hand was pure ecstasy.
The feel of his flesh as I sank my blade in…I cannot wait to do it again. It was like a perfect opera. Everything went off without a hitch. The blood as it cascaded into my waiting mouth, evil always has the most delicious flavor. I know can continue his work, ridding the world of whores, who will miss them? They are all the same just like mother selling her body to the highest bidder..
But wait, that is not all. I met the most engaging woman at that horrid dinner party I had to attend. Witty and demure, she was the light of the party, a shining star in a velvet sky. So, enamored was I with her that I almost missed my cue…almost.
But Lady Luck was on my side, and now I watch and I wait and I plan for the next opera. I must be patient. It would not do to call too much attention…
I will dance, drink, and simper along with all those fools of the Ton, and if I am lucky, my shining star will appear again. I will charm her, and I will win her. Draconus can easily be taken out of the picture. I will be there to comfort the grieving widow and then she will be mine!
Teagan slammed the diary shut, looking wildly about the room as if she expected to see Jack standing there right in front of her. His shining star? Did that mean she was a target? Could she handle all this? Maybe she should just go back and pretend like none of this ever happened. No, not an option—she could not abandon the mission; she had to try to stop him. There had been a reason he stopped; the institute had stopped him. If she gave up now, how many more innocents would die?
A knock at the door between her and Bran’s rooms caused her to jump.
“Teagan, are you decent,” Bran asked through the closed door.
“Yes, you can come in.” Teagan sat there, staring at the wall, her heart still thumping.
“I wanted to come check in with you. The entries are very disturbing, but you have me, and Ovidia really can fight, not to mention you have skills all your own.”
“I saw Ovidia earlier, and she can wield a mean sword—the woman is a fashionista warrior.”
Bran strode over pulling her off the couch and turned her to face him “Look at me Teagan, I will make sure nothing happens to you, nothing.” Bran stared at her, his eyes intense and blazing.
Teagan felt mesmerized by his gaze, unable to move or speak.
His lips were suddenly on hers, frustration and passion poured into his kiss.
Her hands slid up his muscular chest, coming to rest on his broad shoulders. She sighed deep inside as she felt his lips greedily devouring her mouth. Far from resisting, Teagan reached up and grabbed his hair. She poured all her fear, uncertainty, and passion into the kiss. She felt his lips sear through her, an electric spark traveling from her lips all the way down to her toes.
Eventually, he pulled back and ran a thumb over her swollen red lips.
“Teagan, I…”
“Bran, don’t apologize,” she whispered.
Bran leaned in one more time and placed a soft kiss on her lips. “I must go, we need to get dressed for the party. Just know no matter what, I am close, and so is Ovidia. We will protect you.”
He smiled once more, his eyes still intense, and Teagan thought she may have seen a flick of flame in them, though that could have been her imagination.
She had no time to dwell on the kiss or Bran’s words. As soon as the door to his room closed, Victoria was back to lace and bind her into another one of the torture chambers this time period called a dress.
Chapter 14
Teagan looked out at the garden full of partygoers and recognized a few familiar faces from the dinner party the night before. This was a very insular society and she was sure the same people would continue to pop up at the parties, balls, and dinners they would attend; which would make it much easier to identify the Ripper. Teagan looked around, wondering if he was there and if he was watching her. She had not had a chance to read very far in the journal, just that first entry.
Had he even talked with her? She doubted it. She had spoken with many people before the dinner, during dinner, and a few afterward. There was the gentleman seated next to her at dinner, but he had not appeared to be overly interested in her. He’d plied her with compliments, but that was not unexpected in that era. Will he be here tonight? If so, she would have to dance with him to pry some more information out of him and ascertain if he could possibly be the Ripper.
Teagan watched as people moved in and out of the ballroom, dancing with each other, waltzing across the floor, the women’s dresses floating around them and making them look as if they were dancing on clouds.
“Such a pretty woman should not be alone,” said a voice to her right.
Teagan looked up into the face of the gentleman who
had been seated next to her at dinner the previous night. “Duke Draconus has just walked over to the punch bowl to fetch me a drink,” Teagan said in response. They both looked over to see Bran holding one of the crystal punch cups, deep in discussion with another man. She did see him glance over at her a few times and give the gentleman a frown.
“It appears he does not take well to other men flitting around his flower.” The man smiled, amused.
“He likes to keep an eye on me, this is my first trip abroad,” Teagan responded. “How have you been since last evening,” Teagan inquired of him. If he was going to make himself available, she might as well get some information from him.
“I have been looking at various local artists, and I am away to Paris in the next few weeks. I have a friend, a member of the aristocracy—he is around here somewhere, Duke Somerton—who is an extraordinary painter, and I am throwing him a party to show his work. You and Duke Draconus must come.”
“I will speak to my husband. We are patrons of the arts ourselves, and we would be delighted to see your friend’s work.”
“I would be flattered to have you attend, dear lady. Well, I am off to put my name on the dance cards of some of these eligible ladies. Among all these silly chits, there ought to be at least one that has wit and beauty. You cannot be the only one, Lady Draconus.” He bent down to take her gloved hand and placed a kiss on the back of it.
Before she could respond, he was off. Teagan watched as he danced with one eligible lady after another, using his considerable charm to make them blush and sigh.
Could he be the Ripper? He had shown an interest in her but would the killer be so bold? Or would he sulk in the shadows, watching her from afar?
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Teagan jumped and turned to frown at Bran, who handed her the cup of punch.
“You scared me. Now is really not the time to be sneaking up on a person,” she said indignantly.
“I apologize, I didn’t mean to frighten you. It seems as if your admirer has moved on to those more available,” Bran said as they both watched him twirl a young girl, probably out for her first season, around the floor.
“He invited us to an art show he is throwing for his friend, Duke Somerton.”
“I have heard tell of this Somerton. He is from France and appears to be something of a recluse, although he does come to a few parties and dinners. They say he is a fine painter.”
“Do we know if he is here,” Teagan asked, looking around the room.
“He was invited, but the gentleman I spoke with says he is not much for dancing and stays toward the fringe.”
He lurks in the shadows, Teagan thought uneasily.
Looking around to see if she could spot a lone man looking in her direction, Teagan saw no one. What if this man is the Ripper?
“Teagan, I know what you are thinking. We do not have any proof that the man is anything more than a painter, a recluse who is simply not fond of people or crowds.”
“I know you’re right, I just feel like I’m being watched. It’s a bit creepy. I don’t know if it’s in my head because of the journal entry or because there really is someone watching me.” She rubbed her shoulders, trying to smooth away the goose bumps that now dotted her arm.
“All sorts of people are looking at you. You are fresh blood, a newly married duchess and a bloody colonist.” He smiled down at her. “Not to mention, you look stunning in that dress. I know we are not really married and I do not have a right to be jealous, but when I saw you over here talking to that man, I wanted to rip you away from him and break his nose.”
“Bran, it is just your dragon side, the need to protect coming out. I spent some time reading my grandfather’s books while I was at the institute and I read that dragons are known for their fierce, protective instinct. Your feelings are just because you feel responsible for me,” Teagan said, looking down so Bran could not see her expression.
Bran placed a finger under her chin, lifting it until she looked into his eyes, hers bright with unshed tears. “Did you also read that dragons mate for life? That once they find the one person they are meant to be with, they love that person for life, no matter the feelings of the other. Even after the death of their mate, they never take another lover. They live and breathe for their mate. A dragon knows instinctively when they meet their soul mate. They feel it here.” Bran touched the place over his heart.
“People, are you just going to stand in the corner and moon over each other or are you going to help me talk to some of these people,” Ovidia said, standing in front of the two of them, her hands on her hips.
Jumping apart, they both turned their attention to Ovidia. Bran abruptly walked away, while Teagan blushed to her hairline.
“What was that all about?” Ovidia asked.
“Nothing Vid, nothing at all. Let’s go talk to some gossipy matrons, shall we?” Teagan linked arms with Ovidia and they walked off into the crowd.
Teagan felt a shaft of cold ripple up her back. She turned from Ovidia and as her gaze swept over the crowd, she spotted a man hidden in the shadows, staring in her direction. When he noticed she had returned his gaze, he melted back into the shadows of a pillar.
Teagan shivered and tightened her hold on Ovidia. Was that the artist, the reclusive Duke, Bran had been talking about? He definitely had the creep factor, but would a man like that be able to charm a woman into an alley? No charm was needed in Whitechapel, only coin, Teagan reminded herself. She turned back and looked again at the pillar where the man had hidden in the shadows; he was gone.
Teagan spent the rest of the party chatting with matrons and being introduced to a few new faces. She received invitations to tea from several of the women, and she accepted for herself and Ovidia, hoping they would be able to glean more information about the reclusive artists at one of these events.
By the time Bran, Teagan, and Ovidia climbed back into the carriage to return home, the dawn was starting to lighten the sky once again.
“How do these people keep these kinds of hours,” Teagan asked with her hand over her mouth to cover a large yawn.
“Teag, this is the season they cram their whole years’ worth of social interaction into a few months before retiring to their summer houses where the entertaining is a bit more laid back. So, they party hard and then they rest.”
Teagan nodded, valiantly trying to keep her eyes open. Unlike Vid and Bran, she did not regularly stay up late. Teagan could usually be found with a book and a cup of tea, going to bed at a reasonable hour—unless Ovidia dragged her out for a night on the town.
Teagan lost her battle to stay awake, the late night along with the sway of the carriage, caused her eyes to close.
Bran carried her up a long white staircase. She was wearing a beautiful full-length nightgown of cream silk trimmed in lace. He wore a billowing white shirt opened to the waist, his muscled chest rippling with every step he took.
“Teagan, you are my soul mate. I will love only you until the end of time.”
Teagan smiled up at him as she buried her fingers into his dark hair and brought his lips to hers for a passionate kiss.
“Teagan wake up! If you do not stop that I am going to drop you right here in the hallway.”
Why was he talking to her like that? He just told her she was his soul mate.
“Teagan wake up” Bran said, shaking her a bit.
Teagan slowly came out of the dream. As her eyes opened, she looked into Bran’s eyes, which were not blurred by passion but crystal clear and annoyed.
“What? Why are you carrying me,” Teagan asked, wiggling to get out of his arms.
“You fell asleep in the carriage and I was taking you to your room,” Bran replied gruffly. “Now that you are awake and at your door, I feel that you can accomplish getting through it on your own.” With those parting words, Bran abruptly set her on her feet. Turning on his heel, he yanked open the door to his room and closed it with a decisive click.
“What was that all
about?” Teagan murmured to herself. Was she really having silly romantic dreams about him? It was time to cut down on the Regency romances.
Teagan let herself into her room and pulled the bell for Victoria. She had yet to figure out a way to get herself out of the death traps they called clothing in that century.
Victoria slipped inside the room carrying a tray with a steaming chocolate pot and cup. “I am so sorry Victoria, I know it is late…well, at this point, very early.”
“It is nothing miss, just part of the job,” Victoria said as she smiled at Teagan. She helped her out of her gown and hung it up while Teagan slipped into her night clothes.
“Thank you again Victoria. Feel free to sleep as long as you want tomorrow morning. I believe I will have my morning meal in my room and just rest a bit.”
“As you wish my lady—I mean Teagan,” Victoria said as she hurried out the door before Teagan could change her mind.
Resting on the settee in the sitting room, Teagan slipped on a pair of soft fuzzy socks. Sitting back, she picked up the steaming cup of chocolate from the tray Victoria had brought in with her. That girl was so considerate—she deserved a raise.
Staring into the dark creamy brew, Teagan felt restless. Getting up, she began to pace the room. What was with the crazy dream about Bran earlier, the whole soul mates deal? Was he just giving her information or was he trying to tell her she was his soul mate? Surely not, Teagan thought to herself; his soul mate was probably some buxom blonde or sultry seductress. A man like Bran was not going to fall for a bookish introvert like herself.
Teagan finished her cup of chocolate, set it on the bedside table, and crawled into the large bed, falling asleep immediately.
Chapter 15
Teagan woke the next morning to the sun streaming in through her window. Stretching and climbing out of bed, she was surprised she had slept as late as she had. It was nice to not have to rush off somewhere and be all laced and frilled up.
Her stomach growled, reminding her it was probably closer to lunch than breakfast. When she pulled on the bell, a housemaid appeared after a soft knock at the door.