And then I found her.
It wasn’t only Marcus who’d fled through the central tunnel last night, but hours later Sunaria had, too. Delacroix had entombed her in a coffin and then sealed off the exit with a wall of mud.
I let go of Benjamin and bolted down the middle tunnel.
* * * *
They flung me into the chair.
I assumed the stake sticking out of my side was the cause of my inability to move. Pain radiated down my right leg. I’d almost reached the end of the tunnel, but they’d gotten to me first. The torture chamber reeked of blood and fear—my own.
I realized that was how they forced Sunaria to remain in the coffin, using a similar stake. I cringed at the thought, and wondered if she, like me, couldn’t even talk.
Delacroix loomed over me.
Feeling pure terror like I’d never known, taking small breaths, grateful for that at least, I thought of Sunaria being so close. My inability to rescue her was harrowing.
Delacroix’s fingers lingered at the end of the spike and he muttered something, but made no sense. My gaze followed his over to a cabinet and I gulped my dread.
Get me out of this fucking chair!
He lifted out a large jar. A decapitated head—a grotesque sight—bobbed inside, the likeness to Delacroix uncanny. The same mop of black hair, pasty, mottled skin, eyelids closed, and a drooping mouth in a sorrowful expression. Delacroix peered into the jar.
The idea that Sunaria suffered provoked an inner force within me and stopped me from passing out. Delacroix placed the jar down on top of the cabinet and reached in. His maniacal gaze reflected affection. With all my strength, I strained to move my right hand, but a weak twitch of my middle finger was all I could muster.
Delacroix carried the wet, grisly head back to me.
You’re insane.
He held it close and droplets of fluid plopped onto my trouser leg. Cold soaked through to my thigh. The walls closed in and my surroundings swirled.
“I was right,” he mumbled. “You’re the perfect build.”
Chapter 38
FEAR LIKE I’D NEVER known gripped me.
Despite being paralyzed, my entire body trembled, so much so, that the chair squeaked beneath me. Delacroix pressed the jagged blades of the saw against my throat. I begged him with my eyes.
Time slowed.
Blinding pain as the blade punctured and then sawed, and bright, red blood squirted and spilled and warmth burst down my neck and chest as he cut deeper. Blood gurgled in my throat and my stomach readied to spew. I hoped madness would possess me and take my mind with it.
Dear God, save me, but more importantly, save her.
Outside, sudden chaos, strange sounds carried, alluding to an unearthly brawl. Delacroix rested the saw on the side table and left.
Silence.
I struggled to breathe as the gaping gash restored. The scarlet flow slowed and receded and the agonizing spasms dissipated. In the corner lay my discarded jacket. Jacob’s locket was in one of those pockets.
Delacroix returned, dragging Marcus in with him. Marcus’ spectacles poked out of his tattered shirt pocket.
Get me out of here!
“This is a nightmare,” Marcus whispered.
“One that I control,” Delacroix seemed to say.
Marcus scrambled to his feet and did a double take at the jar. Delacroix picked up the saw.
“He isn’t tied down?” Marcus uttered, and then his wide stare shifted to the stake protruding from my side.
“Do you want to see your sister again?” Delacroix handed Marcus the saw.
A rasp escaped my lips.
Marcus swallowed a sob. “I want to know why.”
I was caught between survival and the need for it to be over. In a trance-like gaze, Marcus traced the serrated edges along my neck. Delacroix loomed close behind him, clutching the head. His hands appeared to shake with excitement.
“You manipulated me.” Marcus held my gaze.
I couldn’t let your sister die, I conveyed.
“Manipulated us.” Marcus swung round and sliced through Delacroix’s throat.
Delacroix staggered back, aghast. Blood gushed from the gash, and the head he held landed with a thud. Marcus spun round to face me and reached for the stake in my side, grasped the wooden handle, and yanked it out.
Delacroix vanished, leaving a bloody trail. Marcus kicked the head across the room.
I flew out of the chair and we headed into the corridor.
“I owe you my life.” I resisted the urge to touch him.
“You owe me more than that.”
I pointed to his spectacles. “You won’t need those anymore.”
“I noticed.”
“We’ll talk.”
“I’ve got to get to Rachel,” he said. “The River Thames Inn was it?”
I nodded.
“I’m coming back for him.” Marcus sped along the corridor.
“Don’t take him on alone,” I called after him. “Avoid the sun!” I cringed at my damp shirt, stained with residue from the glop, mixed in with my blood. I ran in the opposite direction, down the central tunnel.
Someone had carved their way through before me. I climbed into the muddy hole following in their tracks, and soon reached the other side. Benjamin sat beside a black coffin, its lid off. He rocked Sunaria in his arms, talking to her. She looked paralyzed.
“Let her go.” I spoke the words slowly.
Benjamin clutched her close to him. “He wants me to bring her to him.”
“You and I both know that’s not going to happen,” I said.
“I drank from him. I saw things.”
“Saw what?”
“His power.”
“He gave you up to me.” I stepped closer.
“I did whatever he asked because I’m scared of him.”
“It’s me you should be scared of.”
Sunaria slid out of his arms and I caught her. Grasping the end of the stake in her side, I eased it out. I’d never seen her so vulnerable. Her dress was filthy, evidence that she hadn’t surrendered without a fight.
“I’ve got you now,” I whispered.
I grabbed Benjamin’s arm and, controlling his squirming, clutched the scruff of his jacket and held him over her. Even with Sunaria’s face nuzzled into his neck, I could see her color returning.
I peered down the tunnel and wondered where it led, considering that it may very well be like the others and lead nowhere, though the faint sound of water hinted that it may lead to freedom.
When Sunaria pulled back, having had enough, I shoved Benjamin out of the way. A fine, scarlet line trickled from her mouth onto her chin.
I wiped away the bloody smear. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again.” I kissed her, my tongue searching her mouth, tasting the tangy remnants of the blood.
Benjamin staggered off and dived through the clay hole.
Sunaria rubbed her dissipating wound. “That bastard stabbed me with silver.” She stared at the state of my clothes. “What happened to you?”
“Later.” I led her after Benjamin.
She pulled her hand out of mine. “Where are we going?”
I wrapped my arm around her waist and we trekked down the passageway. Sunaria covered her nose, the smell having reached us. I pushed open the door to the torture chamber and locked gazes with Benjamin. He held the head.
I glared at him, my patience fast fading. “Give it to me.”
Sunaria looked disgusted.
“He’ll let me live if I return it.” He stepped back. “What are you going to do with it?”
“End it.”
Benjamin wavered.
“We’ve all been through enough,” I said, calmly.
Benjamin looked at Sunaria and then back at me. “And you’ll let me go?”
“Sure. Take off your shirt.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.” I unbuttoned my shirt, removed it, and threw it.
Once Benjamin’s shirt was off, I grabbed it from him and put it on. It was a snug fit, but clean at least. I reached for my jacket and withdrew the locket from the right pocket. “Delacroix had this.” I showed it to her.
Sunaria looked puzzled. “He found it on me.”
“What?”
“I found it in a jewelry store. Delacroix stole it from me before I could find you.”
“He recognized me from the portrait.” I cringed. “And Benjamin, you filled in the holes.”
Benjamin sidled along the wall.
“He doesn’t have Jacob.” Sunaria’s expression flickered with anger. “He just wants you to think that.”
“But we don’t know that for sure.” I tucked the locket into my trouser pocket and grabbed the head out of Benjamin’s hands. It was truly nasty. I wrapped it in my jacket and grasped Benjamin’s arm. With the head under my left arm, cringing with the feel of it, I dragged a bare-chested Benjamin out and back down the central corridor. With a shove, Benjamin climbed through the clay opening and I followed him out the other side. I offered the head to Sunaria for her to hold and she gave me one of her stares. I carefully placed it down.
I pulled Benjamin over to the casket and forced him in. I reached for the lid with my other hand, grasped the edge, and dragged it over. I rammed it into position and sealed it in place.
Benjamin banged on the lid. “You can’t leave me in here.”
The locks flicked easily into their catches.
“Why?” he cried. “Why did you lie?”
“Because, Ben, I’m all out of nice.”
Chapter 39
INSIDE ST. PAUL’S CATHEDRAL, a few parishioners were saying their late night prayers.
The gnarly, wet head had soaked through my jacket. I pulled Sunaria past the nave and down into the lower chambers. “This is where I first met Benjamin and Rachel.”
The night of lies.
“When I found the locket,” Sunaria explained, “I questioned the storekeeper. He didn’t remember Jacob.”
“He needs help remembering.”
“Perhaps Jacob’s living near the store?” She hesitated when she saw the crucifix hanging above the door to the chamber.
I lingered just inside, recalling how Benjamin had reeled me in.
Sunaria waited in the doorway. “Why the hell are we here?”
I strolled over to the farthest coffin and prized open the lid. A corpse lay within, freshly wrapped. There was just enough room for the head. I laid it inside and closed the lid.
“I never want to see that thing again,” Sunaria said.
“I knew you never liked that jacket.”
She gave me a wry look.
Easily disguised as two late night parishioners, if scruffy ones, we walked up and out, back down the aisle. I stopped when we reached the ornate stone font.
She looked irritated. “Now you’re really pushing your luck.”
I leaned over the edge of the fountain. “You once told me that holy water can harm us.”
“That’s what I was told.”
“Where’s your curiosity?”
“Can we go now?”
“When was the last time you saw your reflection?”
“An obvious question.”
“You never told me my hair has a tendency to stick up.”
“I’ll be outside.”
“Humor me.”
Sunaria gave a sigh, and stepped closer to the font. She gasped her surprise, and stared into the still water.
“See how beautiful you are?” I asked.
“How is it possible? I don’t recognize myself.”
I shrugged. “Your misguided belief prevented you from seeing yourself.”
“How does it work?”
“I wish I knew.”
“We can’t see ourselves in mirrors, but we can in this?”
I gave an incredulous stare. “You’re telling me this is the strangest thing you’ve ever seen?”
“I can’t work out who’s better looking.” She arched an eyebrow.
“That’d be me.” I grinned.
As she stared at herself in wonderment, I realized that there may be other things that she believed to be true that weren’t. Like a cure.
Sunaria was still reeling when we strolled out under the archway of oak trees, their yellow leaves half bare. With London’s nightscape as our backdrop, we moved as mysterious shadowy phantoms speeding over the roof tops.
* * * *
Midnight, and all seemed quiet in the courtyard of the River Thames Inn.
Buried in the heart of London, near St. Paul’s Cathedral, this modest hotel was a perfect place to hide out for a night.
The skies opened and it poured, soaking our clothes.
“Rain.” I tried to suppress my annoyance. “That’s unusual.”
“What the hell are we doing here?” she said.
“A little detour.”
She gazed at the upper windows. “Benjamin overheard you, and he told Delacroix.”
My fingers ran over my throat. My hand lingered.
“You turned the girl?” Sunaria snapped.