The Undead Heart (#1 in the Blood Thirst Series)

by Stephanie Jackson

  “Do you really think that would be easier for me than for you in those hundred plus years you were without me? Not meeting you may save my life, but what would be the point of saving it without you in it? Don’t you know how much I love you?”

  He pulled her to him and whispered against her lips, “Say it again.”

  “I love you,” she said and kissed him.

  He could smell her scent under the blood and knew he had been pulled out of hell and set back on solid ground.

  “You’re a mess,” he told her lightly.

  “And you, this was not your fault either,” she said, turning and talking to…nothing. “We both thought we were doing the right thing.”

  “What?” he asked, confused. “What’s going on?”

  “Take this memory,” she said, taking his hand.

  He took her hand and saw his brother, Bruce, standing next to him, here in this place, and he looked very upset about something.

  Looking at Beck, he gasped, “How is this possible?”

  “He’s a ghost, and he’s upset because he showed me the box, and he thought me telling you what I told you was the right thing to do.”

  “Vampyres don’t leave ghosts.”

  “I beg to differ. He’s been around off and on since I was a kid. Anybody can leave a ghost. Most souls move on, but some get stuck, and some stay around until things from their lives have been resolved. Besides, a vampyre is just what you are in life. When you die, your soul is released just like any other person’s.”

  He had seen Bruce from his place in the tree. Could that mean he was, at that moment, closer to death than life?

  He didn’t know, but it was nice to know that a vampyres soul remained intact, and not immediately sucked into hell at the moment of their death. None of that mattered now, though. Only that she was here, and that she loved him, mattered.

  They cleaned up in the shower once they returned home, washing away all traces of his tears. Afterwards, she spent a good hour questioning Potter. Did he love Jenny on first sight? Would he come with Beck in the past? Where was he between August and November of 1888? Everything she could think to ask him. Then, she and Richard spent their last night together, in this time, on their cliff. One last, perfect night.

  Chapter Seven

  Now, she was nervous. She’d left the house with Richard ten minutes ago after lots of hugs and kisses from her family. Today it had really hit her that if she messed this up, there may be no family to come back to.

  “I would still like you to consider my suggestion of hiding,” Richard told her.

  “Would you just shut up about that? I told you I would think about it.”

  He’d insisted on being the one to drive her to the old factory. She knew he wasn’t going to let up about them not meeting, and she was right. She told him she would think about it, but that was all she would do. She knew she was right not to tell him about the needle he’s missed. He would have destroyed it.

  As it was, it was extremely painful to sit in the bucket seat of the car, and Richard pestering her about what she should do wasn’t helping her mood. She was glad she never wanted children, because if that needle broke, it wouldn’t be an option anymore. By the time they got to the old factory, she was terrified.

  She still hadn’t decided how much to tell the Richard of the past. She was going to have them find Jeremy as soon after she left as they could, not only because she liked him so much, but so he wouldn’t run into the vampyre that had told him the story of Elderson.

  She knew just as sure as she was breathing, that if Richard knew that story, and how it ended in her death, he would try to hunt Elderson down and kill him. She couldn’t risk that. She had her own plan to take care of Elderson.

  Beck got out of the car, and Richard pulled the box of dresses out of the back seat for her. Just the relief of standing up put her in a better mood. They couldn’t stand here too long. There was a guard in the guard shack watching them, and a long goodbye would look strange. “Please, be careful, and if you decide that you have to find me, please tell me everything I need to know to keep you safe,” he said, pulling her close to him.

  “I will,” she lied easily. “I love you.”

  “Say it again.”

  “I love you, Little One.” She pulled away from him, grabbed the box, and walked away. After showing her I.D. to the guard, she walked towards the building. She used the time it took to get to the glass double doors to pull herself together. She had to appear to be unaware of what was going on. Not looking back, she opened the door and went in. She was in a small reception area, with a couple of chairs, and a desk with a very large woman overflowing out of the chair behind it.

  “Good morning,” the woman called out cheerfully.

  “Good morning. I’m Rebecca Stockdale. I have an appointment with Dr. Mike Rogers at 9:00 a.m.,” she said, glad that her voice came out cool and professional.

  The receptionist smiled. “Well, of course you do. I see it right here. If you’ll have a seat, I’ll let him know you’re here.”

  “I’ll stand. It was a long drive here,” she said, looking at the chair like it was a porcupine.

  The receptionist made a call, and less than a minute later, a tall, blond haired man wearing glasses came out. She could feel the excitement in the air around him.

  “Ms. Stockdale! I’m so glad you made it. I’m Mike Rogers. Would you come with me please?” he said, leading her down a long hallway to a small office.

  “Please, have a seat,” he said, and pointed at a hard plastic chair on the opposite side of his desk. She groaned to herself as she perched on the edge of the chair. “First things first, I need you to sign this before our conversation can continue.”

  He slid a piece of paper across the desk. It was a confidentiality agreement saying that if she ever told anyone what happened here that they would deny it and sue her for every dime she would ever have. She signed it and slid it back across the desk to him.

  “Excellent! Now, I have your psyche reports, medical, and school records here, and everything about them tells us that you are the perfect candidate for our current project. Tell me, Ms. Stockdale, what do you know about time travel?”

  “Call me Beck, please. I was under the impression that time travel was impossible,” she lied easily.

  “What would you say if I told you that not only is it possible, but that it’s what we do here?”

  “I would ask why you called me here today?” Beck questioned, although she already knew the answer.

  “Our project today is the Jack the Ripper case. We would like to send you back to 1888 to observe the five known Ripper murders, and ascertain the identity of the killer.”

  “Why me?”

  “Out of all the candidates we’ve looked at, you were the only one who never named a suspect that you believed was the killer. That indicates an open mind. We also didn’t want to send a man, for fear he might try to save the victims. You need to understand that you can’t change anything. The murders have to play out without your interference. Can you do that?

  She paused for a moment to make it seem as if she was actually thinking it over. “Yes, those women died a long time ago. I’m not willing to change that. If I save even one of them, the consequences to history as I know it could be severe.”

  “I’m glad you grasp our dilemma about sending people back in time. We have to be very selective about who we choose to work with. Your college psyche evaluations indicate that you would be psychologically able to watch these murders without it being detrimental to your mental health. Do you believe this to be correct?”

  She wondered what about her psyche evaluations indicated that she was capable of calmly observing five brutal murders.

  “Yes, like I said, they’re already dead. I would simply be watching historical events while they unfold.”

  “Wonderful! I like your views on this. We also saw that you’ve had training in self-defense. We don’t think you will need it
, but we would like you to be able to defend yourself if necessary. You won’t be able to take any weapons. If anything happens to you, you will be on your own. Can you deal with that?”

  “Yes, I have no problem with that,” she answered, knowing she wouldn’t really be ‘on her own’.

  “You would have to go today. Before we go any further, are you willing to do that?”

  “Yes, I can do that,” she answered. If she didn’t get out of this chair soon, she was going to scream.

  “Great! Come with me, and I’ll show you how this works.”

  She would have followed him to the moon to get out of that chair. He led her back into a section of the old plant that had a bunch of science fiction looking machinery hanging from the ceiling and a control panel table with two chairs. She really hoped he didn’t ask her to sit in one of them. There were two platforms in the floor about ten feet apart, but not much else.

  “All you will have to do is step up on this platform to go, and D.J. will bring you back on the other,” Dr. Rogers explained.

  It didn’t sound too bad, and she already knew that it worked, but she tried to look appropriately worried, and it worked.

  “No need to worry about this part. I assure you, it’s all in working order,” he continued, smiling at her. He flipped open his phone, pressed a button, and said, “D.J., come to the control panel, please,” then he flipped it shut. “D.J. is the control operator. He created all of this,” he said, indicating everything in the room.

  A very attractive man wearing a backward baseball cap walked up behind them. “What cha’ need boss?”

  “D.J., this is Beck, our next time traveler. Can you show her how this works?” Dr. Rogers asked.

  D.J. grinned at her. “Sure, have a seat.”

  Aww, man! She sat up as straight as she could on the edge of the chair. He went around a wall and came back with a white and black rabbit.

  “This is Pucker, our first traveler,” he said, and placed the rabbit on the platform.

  He came back to the control panel, typed something into the keyboard, and hit a button. A bright red light lit up the platform, and the rabbit was gone. Two seconds later, a bright purple light lit up the other platform, and the rabbit was back.

  “Pucker just spent ten minutes out on our grounds. As you can see, she’s perfectly fine.”

  “But, she was only gone a couple of seconds.”

  “A couple of seconds to us, but ten minutes of her life just passed. It will be the same for you. You’ll be gone longer than Pucker was, so it will take a little longer to get you back, but only a little longer. To you, you will have been gone 2 ½ months. To us, it will only be a couple of minutes.” She was intrigued. “How do you keep track of what you send so that you can bring it back?”

  “Microscopic transmitters in the bloodstream. Everything else gets sprayed with a transmitter solution. I need to spray the dress you’ll be wearing when you go back. We also have some slipper shoes from that time for you to wear that have already been treated. Buy some more shoes when you get there, put the treated dress and shoes away, and don’t get them wet. Make sure you’re wearing them when it’s time to come back, or you’ll find yourself on that platform naked. Come with me,” he said as he stood.

  He led her back through the plant, past the hallway to a big, metal door. Inside, it looked like a hospital room. Her dresses were stacked on the bed.

  “You’ll only be gone a few seconds in our time, but you have to stay here 24 hours after your return. It’s just a precaution, in case shock sets in. It happens every now and again. Don’t worry about it, though. You’ll be just fine. I haven’t killed anyone yet,” he smiled. “Give me your arm.”

  He got out a hypodermic needle full of what looked like egg yolks and walked back to her. “Don’t worry, it’s completely non-toxic. This is the transmitter solution. When you get back, we’ll put you through an MRI. The magnetic field will deactivate the transmitters.” He stuck the needle in the vein in her arm. “Give me whichever dress you’re going to wear, so I can treat it.”

  “One off the top is fine.” He took the dress and mused, “Don’t know how women wore these big, heavy dresses in the heat. You’ll be alright. You’re from the South. If I sent a woman from Maine, she’d probably die of heat stroke. I’ll be landing you on August 27, 1888, near the end of summer; still hot though. There’s a bag over there that fits in to that time period.

  “The slippers you need to put on are in it. The bag’s already been treated, and you can put your dresses in it. There’s also a hairbrush and a canister that has deodorant in it. No makeup, sorry. Everything in the bag will go. Put any personal possessions in that closet over there. I’ll be back in a few minutes with your dress.”

  The first thing she did when the door closed was pull down her pants, get the needle out, and throw it in the bag. She put her dresses on top of a bunch of torn-up cloth. D.J. was back quicker than she expected, carrying her with her dress and a plastic bag.

  “Here’s your dress. The spray dries fast, so you can go ahead and put it on. I have a bra thingy from the 1800’s. You’ll have to get your other underwear there. Umm, I have to tie you up in this, though. Shelia’s already left to get her second breakfast,” he said, blushing as he pulled the ‘bra thingy’ out of a plastic bag.

  “Don’t worry D.J. I’m not shy,” she said, taking off her shirt and bra. It took him a few minutes to get her tied up right. It would have gone faster if he was looking.

  “Don’t want to tie ya’ too tight. That’s what used to give women what they called the ‘vapors’, made them pass out.”

  “You have sent a person back before, right?” she queried, trying to get him to relax.

  “Yes, ma’am. They didn’t lose Kennedy’s brain. We have it in our possession,” he said, laughing.

  “You said something about a woman from Maine would die of heat stroke. What does happen if I die there?”

  He smiled again. “You’re not gonna die, but if your heart stops beating for three seconds, the transmitters will shoot you back here. So, if you feel like you absolutely have to die, please, don’t do it in public.”

  He finally got her tied into the ‘bra thingy’, and she stepped into the dress. She didn’t take her pants off until she had the dress done up. She would have taken them off before she put on the dress, but D.J. was so shy, he’d probably get the ‘vapors’.

  “What is the torn up cloth for?” she inquired while putting on the slippers.

  He turned even redder, if that was possible. “Umm, there were no maxi pads back then, so, umm…,” he trailed off.

  She tried not to laugh, but she couldn’t stop herself. “Okay, well thanks, I guess.”

  “Here’s a pocket watch. You have to remember to wind it. Make sure you are out of sight when you come back. Your hotel room would be best. Here’s money for that time. It’s not real, but they’ll never know it. There’s plenty there for you to get your hotel room, food, and whatever else you need.

  “Talk to as few people as you can. Don’t make any friends. Don’t write any notes on what you see. You’ll just have to remember it. We‘re really only going after identity here.

  “Me and Mike have a $50 bet going. I think it’s going to be Aaron Kosminski. He’s going for Prince Albert. I told him that Prince Albert wasn’t even close to Whitechapel for some of the murders, but he’s convinced it’s some kind of cover-up.” She liked D.J. a lot. He was easy to be around. “Who pays for all this, D.J.? The military?”

  “Oh, hell no. Just some old, nosy, rich codger, bless him.”

  She laughed with him. It was an old southern habit to say something horrible about somebody and then bless them, and there was no doubt that D.J. was a born and bred southern man.

  “Well, let’s get going then.” He grabbed the bag with all the things in it and led her to the control panel. “Now, you make sure you look around during the day and find places near where the murders happen, but where
you won’t be seen.” He handed her the bag, and gave her a tight one-armed hug, and then flipped his phone open, “Mike, we’re ready.”

  “D.J., did you ever wonder what happened in October of 1888?”

  “What do ya’ mean?”

  “Well, think about it. Jack the Ripper killed once at the end of August, three times in September, then not again until November 13th. Serial killers don’t just stop like that. I always wondered what happened to him for the six or so weeks in between.”

  What she really wanted to know was what had caught Elderson’s attention during those weeks.

  “I don’t know. That is strange, but you’ll let me know in a minute,” he smiled.

  “Are we all ready?” Dr. Rogers asked when he walked into the room. D.J. nodded. “Great! Did you tell her everything she needs to know?”

  “Yep, she’s all filled in, and has everything she needs,” D.J. answered, and then turned back to her. “Ok, I’m going to set you down in a small area outside the city. You’ll see a road in front of you, turn right and follow it into the city. It shouldn’t take more than a ten minute walk. When you get across the bridge, turn right again. That will lead you into the city. Get a hotel, shop, check out the Ripper, and be careful.”

  He took her over to the platform, went back across the room, and sat down at the control panel.

  “Now, I’m sending you back to August 27, 1888, at 3:00 p.m. Your return date is November 13, 1888, at noon. You ready?”

  “Yeah, I’ll see you in 2 ½ months” she said with a smile.

  “I’ll see you in 2 1/2 minutes,” he smiled back at her, and hit the button that would send her to the past, and into her future.

  ***

  She opened her eyes and saw she was right where D.J. had said she’d be. She her opened the bag, pulled out her wedding ring, put it on her finger and followed his directions into town. He was right about the dress and the heat, too. She felt like she was going to melt.