For the Earl's Pleasure (24 page)

“Perhaps. But I will return. I promise. Now you must promise me, Abigail. I know you will follow, but—” He looked to the window. “You must promise me that you will stay in the hack. That you will not follow me once we are free of the house.”

“Why?”

“You are in danger.”

“I know.”

“No, you—” He took a deep breath. “Promise, or I will simply stand here until I fade away.”

She stepped back. “No.”

“Yes. Promise me.”

She swallowed. “Very well.”

“Good. I will hold you to it, Abigail. Are you ready?”

He watched her straighten her shoulders. “I’m ready. I have been ready.”

Under what star had they been brought together? And was it a lucky or unlucky one?

“I as well.”

And in that he was answering more than just one query. Her lips parted, her eyes filmed, but she simply nodded and they walked through the door.

I
t was almost as if now that he had embarked upon the truth and accepted it, that he was able to follow where the tug led.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“The Lamppost Tavern.”

Abigail shot him a sharp look. “You had the letters in the wrong order.”

She had always been especially quick. “Yes.”

“You saw the whole sign?”

“Yes.”

She stayed silent for a moment as the carriage rocked across the stones. “In what condition were you?”

“Still alive.”

She nodded, biting her lip. “That is good.”

Something pressed against his chest—wanting to come out, but the last restraints of his stubbornness pulled it back. He just nodded in return, the tension settling upon the carriage.

“Valerian, I wanted you to know—”

“I do, Abigail.”

She nodded again and the tension, instead of dissipating, grew thicker.

They had taken great pains to avoid being followed. There had been two men watching Abigail’s house—whether they had been in with Roland, the duke, or some other entity, he didn’t know. But they had successfully negotiated around the watchers while well-timed distractions had taken place—a carriage overturned down the street, an argument between two drunkards on the corner.

He could only hope that there hadn’t been another lackey about—or a man like Evans—who watched while no one knew.

The carriage passed the tavern and he looked across from the sign. A brick building, completely innocuous-looking, stood to the side.

But there were bars on some of the windows. Not completely unusual, not enough to cause comment if one didn’t know, but now they stood out like a sign proclaiming “asylum” in bright letters.

The hack stopped a block down from the tavern, as instructed. He watched Abigail in her borrowed clothing, smoothing her trousers. Her shoulders were straight, but he could see the tension lacing them.

She calmly tipped her head.

He smiled faintly and touched his lips to hers. “See you on the other side, Smart.”

He concentrated on the pull. Concentrated on exiting the carriage, and walked through.

Abigail waited for Valerian to disappear into the brick building, then pushed open the door and nimbly exited the carriage without one ounce of remorse.

She handed the driver three times the fare. “Wait here and you will receive the same compensation upon the return trip.”

The driver eagerly accepted the money and tipped his hat.

She concentrated on the brick building as she walked. The bars. What she knew would be inside.

A few people passed on the street. Late-nighters returning from parties or early-morning workers dragging themselves to their jobs.

She walked up the steps and touched the door handle. It swung open an inch.

She swallowed. In any other circumstance she would run far, far away. But Valerian was inside. Both the living one and the not quite living one.

She was going inside no matter which one emerged after.

She pushed open the door. The entrance hall was dark, but a stairway lifted into the next floor and a faint light shone down.

She saw Valerian at the top of the stairs, his edges more dim than she’d seen, leaning against the wall and dipping through. He suddenly turned.

Swearing filled the hall and he limped back down the stairs, the lines of his body growing firmer as he drew nearer.

His hands wrapped around her arms.

“You promised to stay in the carriage.”

“You are flickering again, Valerian.”

His lips tightened. “I don’t care.”

Calm ran through her at his words. “You will die.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You will stay a spirit forever or go into the beyond.”

His grip tightened. “What if I want to stay a spirit? Stay with you? Will you leave then?”

The words wrapped around her, seductive in their intent. She tried to shake them away, but with each vine she peeled away, another would grip and coil.

She dipped her head. No, she knew what she had to do. “No.”

“Don’t do this, Abigail.”

“I must.”

“You are in danger.”

“So are you.”

“No, you—”

Voices from outside drew close to the door.

Valerian swore again. “Let me go first. And don’t do anything foolish!” He darted up the stairs.

Voices followed behind. Not hurried. Measured. They hadn’t been discovered, then.

And she couldn’t go back. Valerian seemed to know it too, if his pinched full lips were any indication. “I have to find my body so that I can kill you myself.” He closed his eyes, then waved her forward, his hand plastering her to the wall each time he heard a sound.

He led her through a maze of corridors and landings. Faint sounds followed and surrounded. Then the sounds sharpened. Moans, screams, pleas. She shut her eyes.

“Abigail—”

“No, continue.” He hesitated and she pushed against his side. “Go.”

They entered a long hall that contained beds on either side, a corridor stretching through the middle.

The moans hit her as she walked down the center row of the beds. The men’s wrists were strapped to the rails, and in some cases their ankles. Some had blindfolds, some had gags, while others stared unseeingly at the ceiling. One ungagged man looked up as she passed.

“Help, my child. Help me pass to the beyond.”

She swallowed. Dear Lord.

“Help me.”

Similar scenarios played out in her mind from the other asylums she’d been forced to visit. They clanged and converged together and she gripped her head. The spirits couldn’t be separated from the poor live souls.

“Help.”

With Valerian freed, he could shut this place down. Free everyone inside. She turned away, tears blurring her eyes as the man’s pleas continued. A hand touched her back—a fleeting touch. She blinked the tears away and moved forward.

“Where do you feel pulled?” she asked in a low voice, hoping that her voice wouldn’t break.

Valerian hesitated, then pointed to a hall at the end of the row. She nodded and walked that way, the horrific moans following her like a trail of snakes.

She could feel the cuffs about her wrists. Feel the terror of being pinned down, unable to fight. Feel the despair that no one would ever help.

She shook off the shivers. She needed to get through this. To find Valerian, escape, and send someone back here to close the place down.

She had just turned the corner into the hall when a door opened and a man stepped outside. He stopped and stared at her while she stared back. He smiled unpleasantly and his hand lifted to his head.

A purple bruise marred his forehead from where she had hit him with the plank. She shifted on the balls of her feet.

“Miss Smart, what a
pleasant
surprise,” his cultured voice said and memories of him speaking while she was pressed against the bricks froze her mind. “We have a bed waiting just for you. It has been waiting for weeks now. Years really. How fortunate for us that you’ve chosen to come of your own volition.”

Something lodged in her throat. Two men appeared behind him. Valerian shimmered.

“Grab her,” the man from the alley said.

The lackey who stepped forward to do so was obviously convinced that she would be taken easily. He strutted toward her. “Come here, little filly.”

She gripped behind her, her fingers closing around metal. The man reached toward her and she grabbed the bedpan and arced it up into his chin. His head jerked back and he crashed toward the floor. The other unknown man and the one from the alley rushed toward her at once. Valerian stepped in front. He planted his feet, expression tightening, and as the unknown man reached him, Valerian pushed forward with his hands. The man abruptly folded in two and dropped to the ground. Valerian staggered, but she couldn’t go to his side. The man from the alley stalked toward her, though his eyes tracked to the left and the right.

“Have a little help again, Miss Smart?”

“Yes.” She straightened. “Better to leave now while you can.”

“Oh, no. I will deal with your helper. Our bait.”

Bait? Oh, dear God.

She didn’t have time to process her horror before the man continued. “In the meantime, I have a little help too.” He whistled. Valerian charged him as soon as the note sounded, but it was too late. Footsteps echoed down the hall. The two of them went down, tackled to the floor. Valerian got in a punch before he clutched at his stomach.

“Abigail.”

And he disappeared.

Three other men ran inside. “Mr. Evans?” One of them said.

She stared at the spot where Valerian had just crouched. She fervently hoped he was waking somewhere in the building and not either gone for good or with his spirit trapped somewhere else.

The new men stepped toward her and she squared herself to fight. She was going to lose. She knew it. But she wanted to take at least one of them to the grave with her.

Evans regained his feet. “All alone, Miss Smart? That is too bad, now isn’t it?”

He took a menacing step forward, but another man stepped from the shadows, raising his hand. “Stop.”

The men immediately ceased, even Evans, though he looked furious.

The man from the shadows stepped into the shine of the lamp. Abigail’s throat closed as his features came into view.

“Good evening, Miss Smart.”

Valerian woke to unimaginable pain. He strained at the straps at his wrists. Abigail.

The ceiling came into view. The same ceiling that had lined the other room. The one where Abigail still remained, surrounded by men intent on harming her. He strained against the bonds again, but his muscles barely obeyed.

He heard a scream and pulled harder. He needed to get to her.

He imagined the brush on her table—one she had kept all these years, the look on her face in the height of passion, the girl that had once raced him up the tallest tree.

He twisted with everything in him and there was a clang as the bar disconnected from the bed. His restraint slid from the bar as it banged to the floor. He undid the other tie as quickly as he could—fingers numb and cold, barely feeling the pinch of the ties.

He pushed himself up and undid the ties to his ankles in the same way, relieved that he still maintained most of his clothes. The last tie shot free and he lost his precarious balance, tumbling to the ground.

He laid there for a second, stunned, before attempting to get up. His muscles wouldn’t obey. He tried to grab the rail that was still attached above him, but it was too high. He turned his head and saw a stool across the room. If he could just get to the stool, he could lever himself up.

Abigail. He had to.

He pushed himself onto his stomach, reached forward, and started crawling, arm over arm, the pins and needles growing more heated as he progressed.

Another scream.

He anxiously pushed with his legs and they weakly gave a shove against the tiles. He pulled and pushed like a demented snake until he reached the stool.

He dragged himself upward, his unused muscles straining. He sat for a second, winded, then pushed himself up. He couldn’t afford to rest. He shuffled toward the door, bumping into everything as he went, scattering cloths and pushing into tables.

The man who had been guarding him all this time must have been one of the ones that had been summoned.

He stumbled through the hall and into another doorway and saw a man working on a body. The shock of blond hair on the pillow stopped him cold.

The man leaning over the body moved slightly and Valerian could see Templing’s face. He looked completely awful. Barely alive—if he even was. The man raised a surgical knife and Valerian gripped a shovel standing at guard near the door—for cleaning up afterward, no doubt—stumbled forward, and swung it up and into the man’s head. The man fell on top of Templing and the knife skittered across the floor.

Valerian reached down, wincing, and touched Templing. He was cold, but there was a faint heart beat at his throat. Valerian unlatched his cuffs.

Another scream sounded and Valerian’s head whipped up. He would come back for his friend.

He leaned down and grabbed the surgical knife from the floor using the shovel as a crutch, then straightened as fully as he could—more of a hunched-over position than anything else and shuffled back. He was almost near the door when he saw it. Two pistols in a case to the side.

A twist of the knife in the lock broke both, but he didn’t care. He lifted the pistols, the weight like a dozen bricks in his hands. His eyesight would have to do if he needed to shoot someone down one of those long halls. As long as it wasn’t Abigail, he didn’t particularly care who he shot at the moment.

He loaded the pistols as quickly as he could with the supplies from the case and then restarted his trek.

Off to find Abigail. Off to end this madness.

Off to save the one good thing he had left.

“Sir Walter. How fortuitous that you come to be here. This building needs closing immediately. I believe that the reformers would have a fit should they see the state this jail-masquerading-as-a-hospital is in.”

Sir Walter smiled faintly. “Very good, Miss Smart, but I do not doubt your intelligence.”

She bit her lip. “Why?”

“Why what, Miss Smart? Do I not doubt your intelligence?” He strayed more firmly into the light, waving the other men back. They reluctantly did so. “I have studied you too long to doubt your intelligence. So perhaps instead you are asking, why am I here?”

“All of your talk of
gently
helping others.” She pointed toward the hall filled with beds that she had passed through, the moans and an occasional scream still echoing through the halls. “Congratulations. You have duped us all. What a disappointment.”

“Oh, no, Miss Smart.” He walked forward, holding his hands out in an appealing gesture. She backed up a step, the wall at her back. “I seek to help everyone. Only by true experimentation can we glean results.”

“So you are using those poor souls to do your experiments? To gain your exalted knowledge into the mind of man?”