The Twisted Tragedy of Miss Natalie Stewart (19 page)

As we clattered up Lexington, we finally drew back to catch our breath. Then came questions. “So, other than flirting with you,” Jonathon began, “what did Nat say?”

As I relayed the details, Jonathon looked around for something to punch and instead pounded his fist against his knee. “Murdered. My parents were murdered.”

All I could do was take his hand in the long, tense silence. There was nothing I could say to bring them back or undo the horror done to him. “When all of this is said and done, Jonathon, they’ll not have died in vain. I’ll do anything I can to make sure that’s true.”

“See. Now
that’s
my brave girl.” He kissed my forehead.

“I told Nathaniel about Samuel. Since you might not be in a position, with your double identity, to help him, maybe Nathaniel could.”

“Good.”

“One more thing. Nathaniel was approached by someone, a chemist, about a drug that could eliminate melancholy. Seems he was interested in targeting Nathaniel’s Association.”

“More Society business? Another of the three departments, pharmacology? That might be the next phase of experiments. But I still don’t know what Preston’s really doing. I couldn’t outright ask since I’m sure the demon knew well enough.”

“That’s where Rachel comes in. Preston is her employer. He has been asking her to do strange things, the most recent of which was to tie spirits of the dead to segmented body parts. Something, I might add, I foresaw in a dream.”

“Dear God. Then what? What’s being done with the parts?”

“You’re going to have to ask Preston. He’s likely returned. Ask to see the work, per your instructions from the Society.”

“Well, then, that’s the first task for both of us.”

“Me too?” I gulped.

“He’s already met Miss Rose. You may hear or pick up on something I cannot. Besides, I feel I’m at my best when you’re at my side.”

I smiled. This was the core of true love: when someone brought out the best, bravest, and strongest parts of you and stood with their best self beside you.

We stole another kiss for as long as we could before the carriage slowed. I pinned up a few locks of hair that had come undone and we smoothed our clothing.

“Hello,
dear
boy!” Mrs. Northe exclaimed, embracing him at the door. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Northe. It is good to be back again with you both.”

There was genuine warmth between them, and I prayed that my father might welcome him with similarly open arms, but that seemed unlikely. Mrs. Northe doted on Jonathon like a prodigal son for a while, striking that enigmatic balance between mother and friend, making you think she was the most valuable woman in the world to you. And she was. But being so in debt made me nervous.

“Is Rachel all right?” I asked.

“Still resting. More peacefully this time. Perhaps the spirits are preoccupied.”

We relayed our thoughts about what Preston may have in store. Mrs. Northe listened carefully but said nothing. Jonathon didn’t waste a whit of time.

“We must be off to Dr. Preston, as directed.”

I nodded. “Yes, Jonathon, it’s true, that must be done…and…”

“And?”

“And you must meet my father,” I said.

“Ah, yes. Of course. Come on then, Miss Rose, we’ve an investigation to begin.”

And with that, brave Lord Denbury was out the door, seemingly suddenly more nervous about meeting my father than confronting a mad doctor. It wasn’t as if Father was intimidating, but I suppose fathers of girls men loved always had that sort of power, the power of one simple word in answer to the question:
May
I
court
your
daughter?

What if he said no?

Chapter 17

We walked up the many blocks to the German Hospital on Seventy-Seventh Street. It had begun to rain. We didn’t have umbrellas, so we just got damp. Fitting, the rain, because it was gloomy and hazy. Not warm but not cool, a distinct discomfort in the moist air.

The building itself was imposing and multistoried. Tall, narrow windows lined the building, and its looming turreted rooftop, squared with wrought-iron fencing at the top, made me feel like I was looking at the House of Usher before it fell apart, ripped asunder in madness and death brought to life. A perfect home for a resurrectionist…

The exterior of the rear wing where Preston admitted patients looked entirely vacant. There were no lamps lit, no curtains or windows open. Everything was shut and shaded. As we approached, we saw a sign lettered “Closed for renovation” in unsteady script.

“Whatever it is, it’s downstairs. Near the morgue.”

“How do you know?”

“Dreams.”

Jonathon tried the door. It was locked. He stepped back, but a sound drew our focus again to the lock. The curtain of the door was open, revealing an empty hallway beyond. No one was at the door, yet the lock audibly unlocked.

We walked in. The wing was empty. Save for one man.

A man in a bright suit sat in a bay window across from rows of empty beds. He looked like a large, garish puppet. He was pale and so was his hair. One long leg was propped up on the window seat, another lolling down. He was dressed like a seventeenth-century courtier, though mismatched with modern shoes and pants instead of breeches.

“What d’ye want?” came a cockney accent booming across the empty wing. I remembered what Nathaniel said about the men who’d approached him. I think this man was one of them. I pulled on the left side of my collar, a signal, but I felt assured Jonathon was already well on his guard.

“And you are?” Denbury asked calmly.

“Roth. And
you
are?”

“Denbury. Does the name ring a bell?”

Roth scrunched up his pale face in thought. “One of the demon’s pretty boys, aren’t ye?”

Jonathon bristled, but in a way that befit the role. “If by that, you mean I
am
the demon that is
collecting
pretty things, then yes.”

“Like that dolly-mop there?” Roth sniffed at me.

“Yes. Miss Rose is a part of my collection. She can’t speak or hear. But she’s nice to look at.”

“That’s convenient,” Roth said, his tone carrying a distinct undercurrent I didn’t like.

“That’s what I thought,” Jonathon purred.

Indeed. That’s almost exactly what the demon had said when it met me. That no one would know if I resisted him. It took everything inside me not to cross that room and slap Roth in the face. Or claw out his eyes. I turned an indifferent face to Jonathon but I’m sure he knew how uncomfortable I was, that he was playing his part a little
too
well.

“Why are ye here?” Roth growled.

“I have instructions from the London office. The Majesty said to check in on Preston.”

“On the work? It isn’t done. Had to clear the wing to work in peace. But there’s not enough of ’em yet to make her go.” Roth detached himself from the window and strolled up to us. “Takes a lot of death to make a life, it seems.”

I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by that. While I told myself I didn’t want to know, a part of me really did. My curious dark side was unwilling to leave well enough alone.

Roth stood before us, the shadow of the hospital shades drawn in such a way that only the lower part of his face was lit, the rest of his large head in shadow. I had to look up to take him in with that cruel mouth and an ugly scar down the corner of his lip that gave him a permanent frown. His eyes reflected strangely in the darkness. Like a dog. My already chilled blood now froze. This was a possessed body.

I pulled at the left side of my collar again in what I hoped appeared to be a nervous gesture. I noticed Jonathon did not look Roth straight in the eye but did glance at me.

“Regardless of the progress of the work, I have to tell the Majesty something, so you’d best show me to Preston. Don’t deny me. The Society doesn’t like it when their hierarchy is undermined,” Jonathon threatened.

“Oh, gettin’ all high and mighty, are we, brother? What makes you more important than me?”

“
Breeding
,” Jonathon said, wielding class like a hammer, careful to distinguish his upper-class accent over Roth’s cockney tones.

Roth snorted. “I know the Society’s all for preserving the aristocracy, but really, brother, it won’t matter when it all begins to unravel.
We’ll
win in the end.”

“And when we do, Mr. Roth, there will still be hierarchy. Take care. I am not your brother.”

Roth clicked his tongue. There was a terrible, tense silence. “Dr. Preston is right this way, Lord Denbury,
sir
,” Roth said with exaggerated deference. His eyes flashed at me.

I wasn’t sure at first if it was wise of Jonathon to play class in the way that he did, one that might engender resentment, but really it was brilliant. Establishing him as a more valued and important player to the Society was its own safety measure.

Preston’s office door was open, and the doctor sat in a rumpled yellow suit with a strange contraption attached to a dead mouse. Looking up, he scowled. “It’s you.”

“Oh, please, don’t stand on ceremony, Dr. Preston,” Jonathon chided, grabbing my hand and leading me into the office.

Preston glanced at me. “What’s she doing here?”

“She’s my pet. My favorite accessory. For now.”

“Yes, you and your transient pleasures,” Preston said with disdain. “You know, demons could learn a thing or two from humans about loyalty and love.”

Jonathon snorted. “Oh, teach me, Doctor,
do
.”

“You had the mind of a doctor once,” Preston said, his voice still quiet, as he stared at the mouse. He pressed a button attached to a wire and a tiny, dead paw twitched. “That body of yours was a prodigy.”

“Yes, and I still retain some of his knowledge. Useful. Especially knowing what parts of the body will bleed out the fastest from a puncture wound.”

I forced myself to look away, scared I’d look up and see the demon in Jonathon again. Preston glanced up, then back to his notes. I wandered to the bookshelves, hoping curiosity, as supposedly deaf and mute, wouldn’t be seen as threatening.

“Are you here to threaten me?” Preston asked.

“Not at all, just checking in on your work, per the Majesty’s instructions.”

“It isn’t finished.”

“So that lackey outside tells me. May I see the progress?”

Preston looked up at Jonathon with beady, bloodshot eyes. “No, you may not.”

“So what, then, would you have me tell the Majesty?”

“That it is ninety percent complete, with residual spiritual matter pending.”

I examined the bookshelves, surprised to see Preston had compiled a great deal of fiction alongside medical texts, alchemy, occult matters, and botany. I wasn’t sure what plants had to do with dead bodies, but there was always room to be surprised these days. As for the fiction, perhaps Preston was looking for inspiration.

On a shelf I noticed a small, glass-topped box that held a pendant inside. Thin and delicate, it was a six-pointed star inlaid with pearl. It looked familiar, though I couldn’t place why. But a sudden instinct said it was important, and I slid the small box up the cuff of my sleeve.

“I could exhibit the work within the next few weeks,” Preston assured Jonathon. “It depends on the state of the medium. She’s become…less reliable. I may have to replace her.”

Rachel, surely.

“My suggestion is to keep your staff as is,” Jonathon replied. “We don’t recruit indiscriminately. It behooves the Society to keep those informed about your work to a limited number.”

“I can’t be pushed toward productivity and constrained at the same time,” Preston said, exasperated. “Please leave. I have work to do.”

“Noted. You’ll see me again.”

“I’m sure,” Preston muttered. “Can you see yourself out?”

Jonathon nodded and led me out by grabbing my arm.

“We’re going to have a look downstairs,” Jonathon stated. I tensed. I didn’t want to go down there if it was just the two of us.

Roth stepped in the way of the staircase that led below.

“No,” he replied simply but firmly. “In time.”

“Soon, or else,” Jonathon replied and turned on his heel. Roth said nothing further. He just watched us as we exited, Jonathon leading me as if I were his hostage.

Once we’d taken a few winding blocks and were far enough away, Jonathon shuddered all over and loosed a cry of disgust, as if he could shed the bitter taste of his darker half like an insect shaken off his fine clothes. “Good God, I hope I won’t have to do this much longer.”

“What’s frightening, Jonathon, is you’re very good at it. You even had me convinced you were him again.” I closed my eyes, trying not to think of the attack, trying not to succumb to the panic the memory triggered.

Jonathon stopped me and took hold of my arms. I froze. “Please. Natalie. Don’t be frightened of me. Not here, not now—”