Doctor Charles Grazier (The House of Jack the Ripper Book 6) Page 10

  “Nick,” she continues, “what do -”

  Suddenly he steps closer, and Alex lets out a pained gasp. It takes a moment before I realize that Nick's right arm is twitching, and a moment later I see blood dribbling down onto the floor between Alex's legs. Then, when Nick steps back, I see that he's holding a knife.

  “No!” I yell, getting to my feet. “Alex! Run!”

  Nick stabs her again and again, driving the blade into her belly and chest so many times that I start hearing a loud squelching sound. Alex looks up at me, her eyes filled with horror, but a moment later she tries to push Nick away. Her knees buckle, however, and Nick simply shoves her back toward the open doorway. She looks at me again, and I think she tries to say something, but then she topples backward and falls from view, and I hear the sickening sound of her body crashing down the steps until it slams into the concrete at the bottom.

  “That's one out of the way,” Nick says with a smile, before turning and looking up toward me. In his hand, he's holding some kind of bloodied lump that he tore from Alex's body. He watches me for a moment, before making his way across the hallway and starting to come up the stairs, with the bloodied knife still in his hand. “Just two more to go.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Doctor Charles Grazier

  Thursday October 4th, 1888

  “Where is she?” Jack sneers, grabbing my lapels and slamming me against the wall at the bottom of the main staircase. “What have you done to her?”

  All I can do is stare at him, as I try to determine whether or not he is really here. I can feel him pressing me into the wall, yet I also know that I have imagined so many things over the past few days. I no longer trust myself to determine what is real and what is not, and I fear very much that perhaps Jack's sudden return is just the latest in a long list of imagined occurrences. Perhaps he is one final obstacle that I must overcome before I burn this house down.

  “I thought you were gone for good,” I gasp, barely able to breathe as he tightens his grip. “Then again, perhaps you were never real in the first place.”

  “Never real?” he asks, leaning closer. “Are you serious?”

  “Perhaps you are an illusion,” I continue, “and -”

  Before I can finish, he punches me hard in the gut. When he lets go of me, I slump down to the floor, wincing with pain as I struggle to get my breath back. Rolling onto my side, I let out a pained groan.

  “Did that feel real?” he asks.

  I try to get to my feet, but the pain is too strong.

  “You sent me to run errands,” he continues, towering over me, “but I very nearly never came back. I took myself back to the slums of the city, I tried to bury myself in my old life, yet I could not forget everything that I left behind here. Every time I thought of Delilah, I realized that I had left her in your care, and finally I came to realize that I could not in good conscience abandon her so. I know that you have not simply sent her away, so I demand that you tell me the truth. For your sake, I hope that you have not hurt her.”

  Reaching down, he grabs me by the collar and hauls me half up until our faces are almost touching.

  “WHERE IS SHE?”

  Before I can respond, my spectacles fall away and I immediately see the shock in Jack's eyes.

  “What has happened to you?” he asks, his voice filled with a growing sense of horror. “You look...”

  His voice trails off, and finally he lets go of me and takes a step back.

  “What has happened to you?” he asks again. “Never have I seen a man crumble so greatly. I have been gone for two days, Doctor Grazier, and in that time you appear to have fallen apart.”

  “I have been busy,” I reply, adjusting my collar. “You cannot possibly understand the depths of my work. Then again, perhaps you were designed that way. After all, it is highly likely that you are merely an imagining.”

  “Where is Delilah?”

  Shaking my head, I start limping through to my office.

  “Tell me,” he continues, walking after me. “Is she resting in bed? She is here, is she not?”

  There is no point speaking to this illusion, so I merely make my way over to my desk and begin to take a look at my notebooks. My hands are shaking violently, for some reason that I cannot quite determine, but I still feel that I should be able to focus my thoughts and recover my sanity. I am Doctor Charles Grazier, distinguished member of no less than five London societies. I am respected by my peers and regarded as one of the finest surgeons of my generation and I refuse to let my mind fall apart in this manner. Not again. At the end, I shall be myself again.

  “All that matters is my work,” I say out loud as I continue to sort through the notebooks, although I am shocked by the fragile sound of my voice. “I must dedicate myself to -”

  “Where is Delilah?”

  I flinch at the sound of his voice, but I immediately remind myself that he is not real, and that I will only strengthen the illusion if I respond to him in any way. I am tempted to glance at him, of course, but I manage to fight the urge and to instead focus on the notebooks.

  “I once thought that you were a great man,” he continues. “I thought that you merely needed help, in order that you would return to your work. But then the doubts came and settled in my mind, and I began to understand that you were suffering from some kind of mania. I very nearly did not return to this house at all, Doctor Grazier, and I would not have done so if I had not begun to worry about Delilah. I watched her home, waiting to see if she would return. She did not, so I can only assume that she remains here. Let me take her, Doctor Grazier. I know that you would not have harmed a woman while she carries a child, I know that harming a child was the one line you refused to cross, so let me take her and then we shall never return. Nor shall we speak of this to others. We'll simply leave you be.”

  “Now where was that page?” I mutter to myself, leafing through the notebook. In truth, I am not looking for anything in particular; rather, I am simply attempting to focus my mind.

  “I shall find her,” Jack says with a sigh, turning and walking out of the room.

  “She is gone,” I reply, before I am able to stop myself.

  His boots squeak as he stops in his tracks.

  I turn slightly, almost looking at him. My eyes are sore and damaged, and I perceive only the faintest shadow of a man standing in the doorway, before I look down at the notebooks and try to focus on my old work. Barely able to see properly, I lean closer in an attempt to decipher my own handwriting, but my eyesight is beginning to fail me. Is this how I am to die? Not only mad, but blind too?

  “Gone where?” Jack asks, and now there is fear in his voice.

  “I used to collect women from the streets and bring them here,” I reply, unable to hold back any longer. Perhaps it will do me some good to talk to this illusion. “Now I take women from my home and leave them on the streets. Delilah Culpepper was -”

  “Did you harm her?” he asks, interrupting me.

  “She was very useful.”

  “I swear,” he continues, “that if you have hurt her in any manner, I shall make you pay.”

  “Catherine needed her,” I reply, “and so the woman served her purpose. If I did not know better, I -”

  Before I can finish, my right leg suddenly gives way. I fall down onto my knee, letting out a gasp of pain as I land, and it takes a moment for me to steady myself against the table. I cannot comprehend how or why, but it is as if my body is beginning to fail me. Letting out a faint murmur, I take a few seconds to regather my strength, and then I haul myself back to my feet. I feel desperately unsteady, as if I might fall again at any moment, and it is perhaps for the best that I am entirely alone here.

  Yes, I am alone.

  There is no Jack.

  Perhaps there never was. It has all been about me, all along, and Jack was merely a pitiful fragment of my own mind. He was my mind's way of coping with its own troubles, and -

  Suddenly I hear him stor
ming out of the room, and the floorboards shudder slightly beneath my feet. A moment later I hear the basement door swing open, and I turn just in time to see him heading down into the darkness.

  “Wait!” I blurt out, before remembering that he is not real, before realizing that perhaps he is after all, before reminding myself that I am a strong man, before realizing that...

  I am blind.

  Staring down at the desk, I realize with a sudden sense of shock that I can see absolutely nothing. I can hear footsteps in the basement, and a moment later I hear a voice howling somewhere in the house, calling out the name Delilah over and over again. I suppose that Jack has found what is left of Delilah's body, although this is not possible since Jack is not real. Besides, I dumped most of the woman's carcass far from here.

  Or did I?

  Was even that an illusion? I no longer know what is real and what is not, and I feel that this uncertainty is tipping me closer to the edge of absolute madness.

  And I am blind.

  I rub my eyes against the back of my hand, but this does not help.

  I can see absolutely nothing, and after a moment I touch my eyes with my fingertips and feel that there is a great deal of damage. I knew that dust had begun to collect on my eyeballs, but now I feel other debris too, along with thick and heavy scratches.

  How am I to work, if I cannot see?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Maddie

  Today

  “No!” I scream, pulling back and slamming the bedroom door shut, before hurrying over and grabbing the end of the dresser. Pulling the whole thing across the room, I place it in front of the door, but I know it won't be enough.

  I take a step back, filled with panic, and then I turn to Matt.

  “We have to -”

  Suddenly I see that he's gone. There's a large patch of blood on the floor, in the exact spot where I found him earlier, but there's no sign of him at all. I look around the room, then I peer under the bed, but he's nowhere to be seen. For a moment, none of this seems possible, and I start to wonder whether I'm completely losing my mind.

  “Maddie!”

  Suddenly Nick bangs on the door from the other side, and I spin around just in time to see him trying the handle. Lunging at the dresser, I push it hard against the door to make sure that Nick has no chance of getting through. I can feel him trying, but a moment later he stops.

  “What are you going to do now?” he asks, sounding amused by my struggles. “You're cornered, little girl. There's nowhere left to run.”

  “You killed her!” I sob. “You murdered her in cold blood!”

  “She knew what was coming,” he replies. “The moment she decided to betray me, she knew what'd happen. It's a shame, 'cause I liked her, but I guess these things happen.”

  “You're a monster!” I yell.

  “I'll take that as a compliment,” he continues, and I can tell that he's laughing now. “I knew I couldn't rely on Alex. She was a nice girl, but she was so changeable. Seriously, I could barely keep track of her from one moment to the next. She was always changing her mind about things. One second she was whacking you around the face and knocking you out, Maddie, and the next she was trying to help you escape. If you ask me, it was all rooted in her low self-esteem and -”

  “Help!” I scream, keeping my body pressed against the dresser as I turn and look toward the window. “Somebody help me!”

  “You can shout all you want,” Nick replies, “but no-one's going to come. Haven't you noticed something about this house, Maddie? It has a real knack for keeping its secrets to itself. I guess maybe it's just had a lot of practice. There's a real energy about the place, a really weird vibe that's hard to pin down.”

  “Help me!” I shout, sobbing now as I try to think of some way out. “Please, somebody...”

  “You just keep on making bad decisions,” Nick continues, and I can feel him trying to door again. “I thought you were smart, Maddie, but now it's starting to look like you're just another idiot. That's gotta hurt, right? I mean, the average person would probably not have gotten herself into this mess. And let's be honest, you could have been out of here by now. It takes a special kind of stupid to end up in the mess you're in right now.”

  “Help me!” I cry out, although my voice is cracking as tears stream down my face. “Matt! Run! Matt, get out of here!”

  I slump down to the floor, while still pressing my body against the dresser. I have to get out of here, I have to save Matt even if I don't manage to get myself out of here.

  “Matt?” Nick says after a moment. “Well, that's interesting. Your buddy Matt was supposed to be there in the room with you, Maddie. But if you're calling out and telling him to run, I get the feeling he's maybe not where he oughta be. Thanks for letting me know.”

  “No!” I yell, turning and looking at the door handle as I hear Nick stepping away. “Don't hurt him! Don't you dare hurt him!”

  I wait, but Nick's footsteps have already reached the other bedroom door.

  “Hello?” I hear him call out. “Anybody in here? I know you didn't make it downstairs, Matty-boy, so that means you're still up here somewhere. Are you awake? Did you drag your broken body somewhere to hide, hoping your little girlfriend'd save the day? Unfortunately, it doesn't matter where you're hiding, 'cause I'll find you. You see, your friend opened her big mouth and let me know that you're not where I left you. You can thank her for that as you die. She really is a stupid little bitch, isn't she?”

  “Matt, run!” I shout, but deep down I know that there's no way he has the strength to get out of here. He must be hiding somewhere in one of the upstairs rooms, with only the knife for defense. “I'm sorry,” I sob, realizing that it's my fault yet again. “I'm sorry, Matt. I let you down.”

  I have to help him.

  I can still hear Nick calling out, taunting him, but I can't just sit here and wait. If I don't do anything, Nick'll find him and kill him, and then he'll come for me. If I stay here on the floor, shivering and terrified, I'll die anyway. Matt and I will both die.

  If I'm going to get killed, I might as well go down fighting.

  Getting to my feet, I start dragging the dresser out of the way. I know Nick can probably hear what I'm doing, but right now all I can think about is that I have to at least try to save Matt. My hands are shaking, but I get the dresser out of the way and then I pull the door open. Who knows? Maybe I'll get lucky.

  Stepping out onto the landing, I see open doors but no sign of Nick.

  “Where are you?” I whisper, but my voice is too low to be heard. “Where are you?” I call out again, and this time I know Nick must be able to hear me. “Come on, you coward! Show yourself!”

  I wait, but all I hear is silence. I swear, it's almost as if Nick vanished into thin air.

  “I know you're here,” I continue, taking a step forward, poised to defend myself if he comes rushing at me from one of the rooms. I don't have a plan, but plans haven't helped me very much so far. “Is this some kind of game?”

  Stopping, I look around again, and then I see the top of the stairs. I could run and get help, but then I'd be leaving Matt behind to face certain death. I know Matt would tell me to get out of here, but deep down I also know that there's no way I can do that. We're way beyond the point where fetching help is an option. Besides, I'm sure Nick expects me to try running, and he'll come after me. For the first time in my life, I'm going to do the right thing. The element of surprise might even help me. I've got to fight.

  First, though, I need a weapon.

  Backing against the wall, I look around for something that I might be able to use. Spotting nothing, however, I finally hurry over to the banister. I pull on one of the rotten rails, and sure enough I find that it's a little loose. Kicking the bottom, I manage to break the wood, and after a moment I pull the rail out and hold it up. Sure enough, the broken end looks pretty sharp. Not as sharp as a knife, of course, but I might still be able to use it to defend myself. If I'm goin
g down, I'm taking Nick with me.

  “I'm coming, Matt,” I whisper, as I turn and look at the open doors. “I'll find you.”

  I know he's in one of those rooms, but I don't understand why Nick is being so quiet. I guess he's waiting for me to make my move, and I'm sure he thinks he'll be able to drop me easily enough. Alex fought back against him, and she paid the ultimate price. I'm not exactly much of a fighter, but I figure I at least have a shot. In fact, I have more than a shot. As I adjust my grip on the broken railing, I tell myself that as soon as I see Nick I'll drive the splintered end into his gut and do the same thing to him that he did to Alex. I never thought I could hurt another human being, but right now I'm absolutely certain that I can fight back against this bastard.

  Finally, cautiously, I start making my way toward one of the open doors. The only sound I hear is my own footsteps, and I know Nick has to be close, but I'm ready. When he comes for me, I'll -

  Suddenly I spot movement to my left. I turn and lash out with the railing, but I lose my grip and simply hit the side of the nearest door as the wood falls from my hand. At the same time, Nick lunges at me and flashes his knife in my direction, and I let out a cry as I feel a sharp pain slicing deep through my belly.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Doctor Charles Grazier

  Thursday October 4th, 1888

  “Where is the child?”

  I can hear the sound of a cart being driven along the street outside.

  “Where is the child?”

  In the distance, somebody shouts.

  “Where is the child?”

  “Where is what child?” I ask finally, sitting at my desk and trying to focus on the confession that I'm writing. I've been trying to ignore the voice, but now I am unable to help myself. I cannot see, of course, but I suppose that perhaps my sight will return if I wait. “If you mean Catherine, I -”

  “Where is Delilah's child?” Jack continues, his voice tense with some emotion or another. Anger, maybe, or fear.