Camille Page 18

  Strider leaned his face toward mine and kissed me lightly. I could sense that he was holding back what might have been a much more ravishing kiss. Energy radiated from every inch of him. “I suppose we’re connected for life now.” His mouth was so close, I could feel his breath on my face as he spoke.

  I moved closer this time and pressed the side of my face against his chest and listened to his frenzied heartbeat. “I think we’ve always been connected. Even before we knew each other. That is why my life has been so bizarre, Nathaniel Strider. It was fate. It brought you to me.”

  He kissed the top of my head. “Aye, only it brought you to me.”

  We stood like that for a long moment, in each other’s embrace, pretending that we would live happily ever after until the sound of a throat clearing in the doorway broke us from our imagined fairy tale ending.

  Dr. Bennett stepped into the room. His lips were pulled tightly, and he did not look at either of us as he made his way to the stack of notes on his work table. He rummaged through them and marched out with stiff shoulders.

  Strider stepped back. “He is angry at me for touching you.”

  “No, he is angry at me. We had some heated words a few moments ago in the kitchen.”

  Now Strider would not look at me either. “I’ve been thinking,” his gaze remained fixed on the floor, “perhaps I should leave for now. Until this whole thing is over.”

  “Over? If only it were all that simple.” I walked back to the shelves to continue the mission I’d begun when I’d first walked into the lab. The chloral hydrate bottle sat at the front edge of the rows of bottles. “Now, time is short,” I said confidently, “and you have an assignment.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “What are you up to, girl?”

  “Can you get us access to a family crypt in one of the cemeteries tomorrow night?”

  “Just name the graveyard, and I’ll get us in.”

  “The graveyard is no matter, Highgate, Brookwood, one of the others. But we must have entrance to a mausoleum. And not one made of bricks and mortar. It must be solid stone.”

  His eyes widened with interest. “Aye, those are the expensive ones. Lots of rich people buried inside. But there’s usually not much loot inside.”

  I wrapped the chloral hydrate in a cloth so Dr. Bennett would not see me carrying it out. “No matter. You will not be stealing from the corpses anyhow.” I walked up to him, rose up to my toes, and kissed his cheek. “You’ll be spending the night with them.”

  ****

  My mind flashed from fear to rage and back to fear again as I searched frantically for the pistol and bullets. The unsteady desk wobbled as I rummaged through the drawer contents one last time. A musty smell lingered in the air of the small office as I glanced around hoping he had left it lying amongst the piles of articles and books. It was gone. Dr. Bennett, apparently worried that things would go bad quickly, had taken the weapon. At first, I’d intended to confront him about his cowardice, but I refrained. The chloral hydrate was my only defense now, and I would use it.

  Footsteps sounded on the wood planks of the floor behind me. I twisted around and pushed the drawer shut with my bottom. It was Strider. He looked weary from lack of sleep. I’d heard him pacing the guest bedroom most of the night. His arm was still wrapped with the linen we’d used to keep him from scratching his skin raw.

  “How is your arm?” I asked stepping away from the desk and masking the worry in my expression.

  “Feels like I have an army of ants crawling through my veins.” He raised the arm, and I took hold of his hand. His skin was hot as if a fever raced through him. I touched his warm forehead, and he pressed it hard against the palm of my hand.

  “’Tis no fever,” he said quietly, “not in the usual sense anyhow.” I lowered my hand and my eyes. The intensity of his gaze was too much for me. By now he could sense that something magnificent, something horrific, something unimaginable was taking hold of him and nothing could stop it. “I’ve talked to my friend, Hale, at Brookwood Cemetery. Everything is set for tonight.” His hands reached for my waist but dropped as Dr. Bennett stepped into the room.

  “What are you two doing in here?” Although the question was directed at both of us, he looked straight at me.

  “I had not seen Dutch this morning, and I worried that he might have wandered into your book study. Nathaniel was helping me look for the cat.”

  “Naturally, what better person to help you look for the cat.” He walked to the far corner of the dark room and yanked a blue book from the center of a stack, disturbing only the coating of dust. He paused in the doorway and looked back at us in a manner that made it clear he wanted us out of his office. We obliged.

  A steady drizzle fell outside on what seemed to be an interminably long day. Dr. Bennett and I exchanged harsh and accusatory glances all day. He seemed to pop up wherever Strider and I tried to steal a moment alone.

  Strider was like a small boy in church waiting for a tedious sermon to end. He could not sit still for a moment. I was uneasy as well, but my mind was too heavy with plotting to give in to the restlessness. By the time the dreary shadows of late afternoon had vanished, I had a complete plan.

  I knocked lightly at the guest bedroom even though the door was not shut. No answer prompted me to peek inside. The room was dark except for the white of Strider’s shirt. His hands were on either side of the window as he looked down at the street below. His broad shoulders spanned the pane. I walked to him, pressed my cheek against his back, and wrapped my arms around his waist. He did not stir but continued to stare out the window.

  “How will this all end, Camille?” I clung to him, yet his voice sounded distant.

  My arms squeezed him harder. “I’ve found my prince. I shan’t accept anything but a fairy tale ending.”

  He dropped his hands from the sides of the window and twisted around to face me. He lifted me closer to him. “In fairy tales there is usually some type of magic to fix things.”

  “No need for any witch’s spell.” I lifted my hand and tapped my temple. “Just a little ingenuity.” I reached up and buttoned the top two buttons of his shirt and patted his chest. “Now, I need you to leave quietly while John is reading at the fire.”

  Hurt washed over his expression. “You want me to leave, then?” He released his hold on me.

  His coat was draped over the end of his bed. I walked over, picked it up, and handed it to him. “Wait for me on the bench in the park where you found me the other night. I’ll meet you there soon.”

  His shoulders relaxed as if he’d been holding his breath. “You’re coming with me tonight? Aren’t you frightened?”

  “Of what?” I amazed myself at how cavalier I could sound at a moment’s notice. In reality, my insides were churning like the sea in a heavy storm. I’d never done anything like this without Dr. Bennett by my side. But tonight I would be without him. Tonight I didn’t want him anywhere near the prey.

  Strider shrugged in to his seaman’s coat. He looked so handsome; I popped up to my toes and kissed him. It caught him by surprise. He stared at me for a long moment, and I felt my heartbeat move up to my throat.

  “Camille, I should go alone.”

  “Nathaniel Strider, you sit at that bench and wait for me, or I’ll never speak to you again.”

  He grabbed both my arms and pulled me to him. “But you didn’t say you’ll never kiss me again.”

  “A girl can’t be expected to give up everything she fancies.”

  His mouth covered mine, and I was glad he held on to my arms for, surely, I would have sunk to the floor in a heap.

  I pushed away from him. “You must hurry, Nathaniel. And be stone silent as you leave here.”

  He straightened his shoulders and saluted me.

  “Off with you. I have something to take care of here, then I’ll join you.” I poked my head into the hall. “Go.” I waved him past. Practiced thief that he was, he had no trouble exiting the front door without any disturb
ance. I watched him leave then pressed my eyes closed for a moment. Please just one fairy tale ending.

  A man of science was generally also a man of routine, and even on this night where the tension in the house was thick enough to slice with an ax, Dr. Bennett settled into his chair by the fire for his evening read. Even though I knew a pistol weighed heavy in his pocket, waiting to destroy the boy I loved, there was nothing sinister or different about his demeanor as he stared down through his eyeglasses at the book in his lap.

  The glass clinked against the plate of tea cakes as I lowered a tray to the table. “I thought you might enjoy a glass of port with the cakes Maggie left.”

  His blue eyes peered up over the rim of his glasses.

  “I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you earlier.” I’d practiced the apology several times in the kitchen to be sure it sounded earnest.

  He leaned forward and picked up the glass of wine. “It has been a long month, Camille, for all of us. Where’s Nathaniel?”

  It was a question I’d expected, and I was ready with my answer. “He fell asleep hours ago.”

  He sipped his wine, and silently, I prayed that the flavor of the port was strong enough to mask the bitter taste of the chloral hydrate. I offered him a cake just to be sure the aftertaste would not be noticed either. He waved it aside.

  He took another sip then looked at me. A fake smile froze on my face. I was unsure of what he was about to say. I knew this part of my plan would be the most difficult. “Camille, I want you to take a cab to Bethlem tonight. Stay with your sister.

  I opened my mouth to protest, but he put up his hand to stop me.

  “Do not fight me on this, Cami. I insist you go. I’ve arranged everything, and they’re expecting you. After the accident with the laudanum, the hospital employees are more than happy to oblige me with any request. You’ll be safe with Emily.” He took a longer sip of wine, and I wondered when the chemical would take hold of him.

  “And just like that, I’m to forget Nathaniel and let you murder him in his sleep.”

  My eyes followed the glass as he placed it on the table. He’d consumed only a third of it. I had no idea if it would be enough. He leaned back against the chair as if he were growing weary. “It will not be like that, Camille. I intend to let him have a running start.”

  “Very sporting of you, John.” At this moment, standing in the warm orange room where we’d had so many lighthearted conversations and deep intellectual debates, I hated the man. I knew deep down everything he did was to protect me, but his cold heartedness toward my feelings angered me.

  I clamped my jaw shut tightly as he picked up the glass again. His eyelids grew heavy as each moment passed. My plan was working. He would be fast asleep soon.

  “I’m going to dress for my trip to Bethlem,” I said with a feigned tone of resignation as if I was going along fully with his suggestion.

  His eyes popped open then shut again. I grabbed the glass before it fell from his grasp and returned it to the table. How badly I would have liked to finish it, so I could just sleep through the next twelve hours. But I had to go and save my prince, not from a silver bullet but from himself.

  Chapter 22

  The heavy mantle of rain clouds thinned as we climbed into a cab for the ride to the cemetery. Moisture in the atmosphere seemed to color the moon crimson, and the angry glow showered down on us from the clearing sky. The unnatural warmth radiating from my carriage mate should have terrified me, but I could not feel anything but comfort in being pressed against Strider’s side.

  Earlier rain had produced its share of crevices in the road, and the lightweight cab managed to strike all of them. I wrapped my arms around Strider’s to keep from being tossed out. But he did not touch me. His hands were clamped tightly between his knees as if he attempted to restrain himself. I peered up from under my hood and watched the side of his face. The muscle in his jaw twitched wildly as he stared straight ahead. I opened my mouth to say something reassuring but stopped. It would sound ridiculous coming from someone who had never experienced what he was now feeling. But then my curious nature took hold, and I realized I had the opportunity to talk intimately with a human who was going through the transformation. The question of what it felt like always plagued me just as it had apparently plagued my father.

  “How does it feel, Nathaniel?”

  Strider closed his eyes and turned his face up to the sky. Moonlight illuminated his extraordinary profile. He sat like that for a long moment before lowering his chin and opening his eyes. “Nothing can stop me. I could stand on the tracks facing a hurtling train and it would merely bounce off my chest and splinter into a million pieces.” He pulled his hands from between his legs and grabbed the edges of the seat. The muscle of his arm hardened beneath my grasp. His chest rose and fell with solid breaths. “And my thoughts, my thoughts have receded to a black corner in my mind as if I was six years old crouched behind my mother’s dressing mirror, the skin on my back still aflame with the sting of my father’s whip, planning my father’s demise.” He glanced up at the driver’s back. “I could tear that man limb from limb with one hand.” His fingers whitened as he gripped the seat edge harder, cracking the wood frame beneath the leather.

  Curiosity brought my father to his grave, and mine would surely be the end of me too, but I had to know. I had to know if there was any chance that love could be stronger than this thing taking hold of him. It was not for my father, but the attachment I felt for Strider was sharper.

  “And me? Do you want to tear me limb from limb as well?”

  The right wheel dropped into a deep rut and the cab lurched sideways, nearly pitching me out. Strider’s arms were around me instantly. The vehicle righted, and he released me as quickly as he had grabbed me. He stared out at the road again. “I feel that I want to, no, need to hold you against me hard and permanently, so hard that I would no doubt squeeze the life from you. And that thought is more agonizing than anything. I want you, every inch of you so badly, I would not be able to control myself.”

  I reached for his hand, but he pulled it away. He leaned forward. “Stop the cab!”

  “But we have several blocks to go.” I’d pushed him too far.

  The driver halted the horses and swiveled on the seat to look at us. “Take her the rest of the way.” Strider looked down at the floor of the cab. He wouldn’t look at me. I must get out of here, Camille. I’ll go the rest of the way on foot.”

  “But. . .”

  “I will meet you there. Please, Camille.”

  I slumped back against the seat and watched as he climbed out. He did not look back at me once. The driver flicked his whip, and the cab rolled forward. When we reached the cemetery entrance, the driver seemed pleased to be rid of me. With his grayish skin tone, deep set eyes and oversized nose, he resembled a stone raven as he stuck out a gloved hand for payment. I placed two pound notes on his palm, and his beady eyes widened.

  “Could you please stay and wait for me. I shan’t be but an hour.”

  His fist closed around the money and nodded. I jumped down from the carriage. Once I’d seen that Strider was safely ensconced in the tomb, I would head home and wait. If my plan was successful, only the inside of the marble mausoleum and the remains of the people buried there would see damage with his rampage. Then he could return to his human form, and I would have him released in the morning. Another pound note should suffice for that to be done without a word to authorities. That was my plan, and I was convinced I’d seen to every detail, except I had not foreseen Strider’s grim mood.

  I started up the path when my plan took another unexpected turn. The wheels on the cab creaked. The driver had turned the vehicle, and it now clamored back the way it came. “And with the bloody pound notes,” I muttered as I watched the cab get smaller and then disappear.

  Hours of steady drizzle had left the path leading up to the cemetery gate soft as butter. My boots left an imprint with every step. But mine were the only track marks
leading to the entrance. I convinced myself not to worry. After all, he had gone on foot and even though the cab moved like a lame horse over the uneven, soaked ground, it could have easily outpaced someone on foot. Even someone with the strength of a wild animal.

  Strider’s mood had blackened quickly during the trip, and his words haunted me. As I stood there smothered in the silent atmosphere that only an abandoned cemetery can provide, my own thoughts darkened. Why was I never allowed happiness? Only I could manage to find true love with a sinister twist attached to it. For other girls, it’s a glimpse across the room under glittering candle light, a chaste dance across the floor, and a polite but intimate hand up into the family carriage. I wrapped my arms around myself to guard against the cold and the fright and a laugh escaped me. What a mundane existence those other girls lived. I really didn’t envy their prudent lifestyle as peaceful and harmless as it sounded. Truly passionate love was impossible under those constraints, and I would not have traded the unfettered flirting and kisses for anything. Except maybe a happy ending right now, tonight, beneath the solid moon.

  I glanced around at my surroundings but didn’t dare wander from the path. The site was surrounded by thick foliage as if the entire cemetery were encased in a tomb of trees. My heart sped its pace not from fear of what was out there, but from fear that I’d lost him. He’d trusted me this far, but his restlessness in the cab was palpable.

  Remnants of the storm clouds drifted in front of the moon dousing the light it provided. Coldness surrounded me, but it was dread that chilled the blood in my veins. He was out there somewhere, my love, the boy who owned my heart, and in hours he would murder anything in his path. And the one person in that path, alone and unprotected, was me. Yet that thought was not as horrifying as the thought of never seeing or being kissed by Nathaniel Strider again.