Marking Time (The Immortal Descendants)

by April White

  Ringo jumped up and ran to the trunk where he kept his blankets. He pulled out a book and brought it to the bed. “We could start with this.”

  “Where did you get that book?” Archer’s imperious tone startled me.

  But Ringo didn’t back down. “I took it from the study next to the bishop’s office. What’s it to you?”

  Archer grinned suddenly. “No wonder Theo thought he’d gone insane. He tore his office apart looking for that book.”

  I flipped open the first page and started reading out loud, following along with my finger and reading slowly enough that Ringo could see each word. Archer quietly got off the bed and waved to me before slipping out of the room. Ringo didn’t even seem to notice.

  Gathering Strength

  We settled into a routine of sorts. Ringo checked the newspaper office twice every day, but so far there hadn’t been any response to the ads I’d asked him to place. I was still recovering my strength, which took a whole lot longer than I thought it should. Even though the fever never came back, it was another day before I even had enough strength to walk again. Archer had set strict rules about how long I was allowed to be up every day, and I actually followed them. The wide-open floor space of Ringo’s loft was perfect for yoga-ish stretches and strengthening exercises, so I worked at that to keep my free-running skills intact, despite my limited endurance. Ringo laughed at me every time I stretched, until I challenged him to hold a plank pose and he face-planted on the wood floor.

  After that he did the stretches with me.

  Otherwise, when he wasn’t working, he was learning to read. I worked with him during the day, and usually by the time he was ready to throttle me in frustration, Archer would arrive with dinner.

  I found myself looking forward to his visits like an attention-starved dog. Despite always being ravenous and practically falling on the food when he got there, I also really looked forward to our conversations.

  With Ringo, discussions were about what was happening outside in the neighborhood, who he’d seen that day, what Gosford had been hauling, and how often he’d had to dodge any of his old comrades in crime.

  But with Archer, discussions touched on theology, history, sociology, and literature. It was a little like being in college with him because he used us as guinea pigs to test theories and discuss issues he’d had with the material he was working on. I know Ringo got as much from the discussions as I did, but he rarely joined in. When Archer arrived he usually left his seat next to me and retreated with his food to the shadows just outside the open curtains. I could see him listening intently as Archer and I discussed everything under the sun.

  It wasn’t one-sided though. I talked about growing up in America and the things I’d learned in school there. But so much history had happened between 1888 and my native time that I felt like my stay at St. Brigid’s was more easily relatable to them.

  So even though I’d barely spent any time at the school for Immortal Descendants, I told them everything that had happened. Ringo was fascinated by tales of our skills, and he thought the Shifters were about the coolest thing he’d ever heard of.

  I thought young Connor, the Wolf, and Ringo would have been great friends if they ever met.

  Archer was able to contribute to discussions about the Families. And even though we both knew we were breaking all sorts of rules by telling Ringo what we knew, we trusted him with the knowledge. I just kept hoping we weren’t putting him in danger.

  And then, when we were done with dinner and I was tired and talked-out, Archer and Ringo would retreat to the chair where they would read whatever books Archer brought with him.

  I often drifted off to sleep to the words of Voltaire or Charles Darwin or Lord Byron. One night I heard Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein being read aloud and the next morning Ringo was curled up on the floor next to my bed.

  At my urging, Archer had gone to Bedlam to check on Will Shaw. He hadn’t been able to see him though, because Will was still being kept in solitary confinement. The only good news about that was that no one could see him when he was in solitary. Not us, and not Bishop Wilder. He was due to go back to his regular room any day though, and I was determined to be well enough to visit him when he did.

  Because I’d been sick, I didn’t allow myself to dwell on the future. Or rather, what was waiting for me at home. But from the moment I’d woken up in the little white room above the King’s College chapel, Archer-the-Vampire had been lurking in my mind. When I’d left my own time I’d been running from Mongers and two very vicious Werewolves. And I was completely certain Archer had gone after me when he’d risen. That had been almost a week ago and for all I knew, he’d run into a deadly ambush and his body was now a big pile of dust on the floor of the Bedlam cellar. Part of me had wanted to rush right back home when I realized where I was. But I’d convinced myself that my mother needed me more than Archer did, and nothing I did now could change things anyway.

  So, instead of dwelling on the very uncomfortable thoughts of what waited for me in the future, or the very theoretical ideas of where my mother could be, or even the very mysterious information around Will Shaw, I focused my brain on the one thing I could control – my recovery.

  Archer was watching me climb ropes I’d had Ringo rig in the rafters of his attic flat. My upper body had actually gotten stronger since my fever, and I wondered if maybe I’d just gotten lighter. I was wearing my jeans, which were a little loose on me, but still much more suitable for rope-climbing than Archer’s trousers were.

  “You are amazing.”

  I pulled myself up to the rafter beam and stood for a moment, catching my breath. Archer was looking up at me in awe. I grinned.

  “It’s fun. You should try it.”

  “I don’t even know if I could.”

  “Come on, I dare you.” I was in a playful mood because I was so happy to have some strength back.

  Archer looked at me through narrowed eyes, then grinned. He unbuttoned the cuffs on his shirt, rolled up the sleeves, and started climbing. He was strong and graceful, and I admired the way he pulled his body upward with sheer arm strength. He could be a really good free-runner with some training, and I found myself imagining what it could be like to play around a nighttime city with him by my side.

  He reached the rafter and pulled himself up to sit next to me. I was happy to see he was a little out of breath too. “Nice view.”

  “Yeah, I like Ringo’s flat.”

  “I wasn’t talking about that.”

  I looked at Archer and found his eyes locked on mine. My heart began to hammer.

  Falling for Archer the Vampire had been like getting hit by a truck. I didn’t see it coming, but with the impact, there was nothing I could do but be swept away by him. It was as if his feelings for me were too powerful to resist, even if I’d wanted to. Which I didn’t.

  And now, here I was, falling for Archer. Just Archer. A nineteenth century college student who talked to me like a friend and intellectual equal, had nursed me through a fever, saved me from a murderer, and who treated me like a lady without acting like I was helpless.

  He shifted closer and his eyes hadn’t left mine. There was a tiny smile at the corners of his mouth, like he knew something I didn’t yet. Like maybe he was going to kiss me.

  I found myself anticipating that promise of a kiss with every cell in my body. He leaned closer and I could hear his own heart pound in his chest. I couldn’t tear my gaze away. I was captivated by the flecks of green in his deep blue eyes and wanted, more than anything, for his lips to find mine.

  “Saira? Are you here?” Ringo’s voice cut through the room like a knife and I closed my eyes in disappointment. I expected Archer to be halfway down the rope by the time I opened them again but he wasn’t. He was still staring at me, still close enough to kiss me, still smiling.

  “Soon I’ll know the taste of your lips.” His voice was a whisper and it was the most provocative thing I’d ever heard in my life.

 
; Archer stood on the rafter and called down to Ringo.

  “We’re here. Do you want to try your hand?”

  Ringo grinned at us and shrugged out of his coat. He grabbed ahold of the rope and shimmied up it faster than I’ve ever seen a human climb.

  “Fancy meeting you up here.” He was so proud of himself I laughed out loud. “I have good news. A young woman answered the ad about Mary Kelly. She’s available to meet tomorrow.”

  “What time? Because I’m teaching another class for the bishop during the day and then Saira and I are going to Bedlam.”

  “Mary wakes up at six.”

  “In the morning?”

  “No, pm. I gathered she’s a working girl.”

  “Working girl, as in…?” I already knew the answer, but I’d forgotten the reality of it. The Ripper’s victims were all prostitutes. Intellectually, I didn’t have a problem with it, but I would be lying to say the prospect of hanging out with a person who sells herself for sex was one I looked forward to.

  The guys looked embarrassed. “Let’s get down and talk about this over dinner. I brought some beef stew and fresh bread if anyone’s hungry.”

  I definitely wasn’t, but I’d been so focused on regaining my strength I knew I had to eat. We all slid down the rope and gathered three chairs around the small square table Ringo had found on the street and repaired with the help of some of Gosford’s tools.

  Archer spooned the stew into bowls and we sat down to eat. “Maybe Ringo should meet the girl on his own. He knows enough about the Ripper that he can decide what to tell her.”

  “I know enough about people to know when they’re lying. That’s what I know.” Ringo spoke matter-of-factly.

  “Then I can take you to Bethlem Hospital and we can see about visiting Will Shaw.”

  I could hear the part of that sentence he didn’t say. “You mean before Bishop Wilder gets to him?”

  Archer nodded solemnly. “I confess, I haven’t felt easy about Mr. Shaw’s prospects for several weeks, not since his hearing. If I’m completely honest with myself, I’m a bit surprised he’s still there.”

  “I heard you and the bishop talking about that hearing when I saw you in your office. What was that about?”

  Archer put down his spoon. “Every two years Will Shaw’s condition comes up for review with the hospital board. Because he’s considered a violent patient, the normal course of events is to consider permanent action.”

  “Permanent?”

  Archer hesitated. “They’ve been discussing doing a frontal lobectomy on him because of the danger he poses to guards when he changes.”

  I stared at him. “You mean a lobotomy?” I was horrified, but it fit something I’d heard the bishop say in the Bedlam cellar. Something about Will Shaw losing his mind. Could that have been why they were taking blood from him? But that didn’t make sense.

  “But why now? He’s been in there forever.”

  “This year, like each one before it, the hearing occurred on September 30th. However, this was the first year that someone hadn’t stood before the board and pleaded Will’s case. No one came.”

  I stared at Archer in growing horror. “What if it was my mother who had been coming to speak for Will Shaw? What if she couldn’t come on September 30th because of me? Because Jack the Ripper heard a Clocker call out for her mother!” I took a deep breath and dared them to stop me. “I have to get Will Shaw out of Bedlam.”

  Betrayer

  It was decided. Ringo would meet the ‘lady of the evening’ at six pm the next day while Archer and I went to Bedlam to try to see Will Shaw.

  Ringo left us alone together while he went up to the roof to wash the dishes. I was standing at a dormer window, looking out at the night when Archer came up behind me. “I brought you something to wear when we go out tomorrow. I hope it’s not too forward of me.”

  I turned in surprise to see Archer holding a dress. I took it from his outstretched hand. “Wow, it’s heavy.” What an idiotic thing to say and I looked him in the eye and smiled. “I mean, thank you.”

  “You should try it. I’m not much of a tailor, but I can make some adjustments if need be.”

  You will be, I thought. I didn’t say anything out loud though and took the dress behind my bed curtain. I quickly stripped out of my clothes and pulled the white under-dress on – the chemise, I think it was called. I’d seen the barmaid at the pub leave it open to the top of her cleavage. I didn’t have anything like cleavage to be showing off, so I didn’t untie it.

  Next came the corset. My mom told me about corsets once. Of course, I didn’t realize at the time she’d had first-hand experience with them. I pulled the corset over my head and struggled with the laces. Not a chance. This was why women had dressers. I figured that with the long chemise on I was more covered than when I wore my jeans, so I opened the curtain and found Archer waiting at the table.

  He almost knocked over his chair as he stood.

  “I can’t get the laces.”

  “Oh.” A flush crept up his neck as he came toward me. I turned away and moved my hair so he could help me. His fingers were tentative and fumbling at first, but the corset lacing was no joke, and to get the thing closed took some effort.

  Archer yanked hard to pull the corset closed and I gasped. “Sorry.”

  “No worries.” I didn’t know how 19th century women could ever get enough air in their lungs. No wonder they kept passing out all the time. “It’s hard to believe my mom wore these every day. But then again, I feel like I barely knew her.”

  Archer pulled another lace tighter. “Perhaps your friendship with your mother is just shifting to something more… adult.”

  That felt like a huge responsibility. If I forgave my mother for hiding the truth from me, then I had to totally own my part in our relationship. I couldn’t play the little girl anymore. I couldn’t hide behind her authority and rules and then get mad when they didn’t fit. I’d have to make my own choices and take charge of my own well-being. It’s one thing to say ‘I’m old enough to make my own rules’ and it’s a totally different thing to make the right ones. And live by them.

  I could see why the simpler choice might be to do what girls in the 19th century did – go from their parents’ house to their husband’s. It was that in-between part that could get so confusing and scary.

  He finished with my laces and I turned to face him. “Will you be my friend while I figure all of this out?”

  He smiled at me. “I am your friend, Saira. And I will always be.”

  Ringo returned with clean dishes and almost dropped them as he stared at me. I suddenly realized I was in the Victorian equivalent of my underwear, and I hurriedly stepped behind the bed curtain again. “Sorry, I’ll just be a minute.”

  I picked up the heavy brocade dress. It was made from beautiful midnight blue fabric that looked black until the light hit it. I pulled it on over the chemise and corset and buttoned it up the front. The dress was actually long enough and fit perfectly, which surprised me because I’d never seen another girl my size in this time. Of course I was corseted to within an inch of my life and could barely catch my breath, but I suddenly felt almost beautiful.

  I opened the curtain. The guys had pulled out the chess set Ringo had assembled from various games and were starting to play. But at the sight of me, both of them stood… and stared. I twirled for them with a smile. “I don’t know how you found it, but it’s actually long enough. I’m impressed.”

  Ringo looked like he was about to applaud. “You look fantastic, Saira! Like a Lady. Except you can’t ever leave this place wearing that dress. You’d be well and proper ruined to be seen with a bloke like me.”

  I laughed and went to him to give him a kiss on the cheek. He blushed furiously which made me laugh even harder. I turned to Archer. “Well? What do you think?”

  He looked in my eyes. “I think Ringo’s right. You can’t wear that.”

  I stepped backward, deflating like a popped ballo
on. “Why not?”

  He was silent for a long moment. “Because I’m not strong enough to keep my hands to myself. Because you take my breath away when you look so happy and full of joy, and the only hope I have of being honorable with you is when you’re dressed in trousers and I can remind myself you’re from another time.” His voice dropped to nearly a whisper. “Because I want nothing more right now than to take you in my arms and never let you go.”

  The longing on his face was naked and raw and I took another, involuntary step backward. In seconds the fashion show had gone from playful and fun to something so intense and honest it made my breath catch against the rigid boning of the too-tight corset. My face flamed as I turned and stumbled behind the curtain again, and my fingers fumbled with the buttons while I struggled to unfasten them.

  When I’d finally gotten the brocade gown off I called out. “Ringo, will you help me with the laces.” I turned my back and stood at the edge of the bed curtain with my head down so I didn’t have to make eye-contact with either of them.

  I felt fingers tugging at the ties and an instant sensation of freedom as the corset finally opened. Then a soft caress on the back of my neck made me spin in surprise. Archer stood there so close I could feel the heat of his skin. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  He closed the bed curtain behind him and went back to the chess game. I dropped to the bed, trembling, then finally pulled myself together again and got dressed in my own clothes.

  I brought the gown out with me and draped it over a chair. “It’s lovely. Maybe you could re-sell it back to the shop where you found it?”

  Archer’s eyes found mine and he shook his head. “It’s yours. It was made for you.”

  I must have looked as shocked as I felt because Ringo explained. “No one else looks like you, Saira. Ye’d always need custom clothes in this time.”

  I touched Archer’s hand to get his attention away from the chessboard. “Thank you. It’s a beautiful dress.”

  He finally met my eyes again. “You’re welcome.”