A Rip in Time (Out of Time #7) (33 page)

They ran down the long hallway and made the sharp turn to the right. Together, they burst through the double doors and into some sort of surgical amphitheater. In the center of the room, Blackwood stood over a patient on a gurney. Elizabeth.

Simon strode forward as the men in the gallery clamored over the interruption. The doctor stared at him, angry at the intrusion, until he realized who it was. And then a very satisfying wave of fear overtook him.
 

Simon took a long step forward and the doctor edged back away from the table.

Simon looked down at Elizabeth, a mask covering her face, her eyes closed. What had they done to her? He wanted to beat the life out of Blackwood, but he
needed
to know she was alive.
 

Orderlies stepped forward, but Victor intervened and kept them busy.

He leaned down over the table, his heart firmly planted his throat. He desperately scanned her quickly for any signs of injury. “Elizabeth.”

He took the metal mask off of her face and threw it aside. Her face was pale and dirty and her eyes were closed. His heart stopped beating. Gently, he cupped her cheek. “Elizabeth.”

Slowly, she opened her eyes and blinked up at him. He held his breath until she smiled and said his name. It hung in the air like an answered prayer.

“Oh, thank God,” Simon said as he dipped his forehead down to hers for a moment. She was alive. “Thank you God. Are you all right?”

She nodded, unsure. “I think so.”

Her voice was soft and slurred and he looked down at her with worry.

“Drugged,” she said.
 

He nodded, relieved again, and then set to untying her. She was safe, he told himself as he undid the straps that bound her. Safe, for now. Unless they could stop Vale from killing Graham, he realized, he still might lose her.

“What’s going on here?” a man from the gallery demanded.

“These men are insane,” the doctor said.

“A lot of that going around,” George said as he arrived, two constables in tow.
 

He came over to Elizabeth, disbelief and relief mixing on his face. “Elizabeth?”

She managed a shaky smile and Simon helped her sit up.

Roxbury jerked his head toward the doctor and the two constables moved to his side.
 

“We have to go,” Victor said as he lifted his eyes toward the clock above the doors. It was already well after midnight.

Simon looked down at Elizabeth. She was regaining her strength slowly, but they couldn’t afford to delay and he wasn’t going to leave her here one more moment.

Simon lifted Elizabeth off the table and cradled her in his arms. His ribs screamed in protest, but he didn’t care as he looked down at her.

“I’m all right,” she said.

The Hell she was. The Hell either of them were, but their night was not yet through.

Elizabeth safe in his arms, Simon and Victor hurried back down the corridor toward the entrance and Simon prayed they’d make it to Whitechapel in time.

B
Y
THE
TIME
THEY
reached the outskirts of Whitechapel it was nearly one in the morning and a thick fog had rolled in. It would be close, too close, Simon thought with a wincing breath. This was the night of the double-event where Ripper…Graham…killed two women—Elizabeth and Catherine. The coincidence of the victim’s names sent a shiver down his spine.
 

He pushed away the feeling of dread that had sunken to the pit of his stomach as it mixed with the general nausea he’d felt since waking up on the shore. As far as they knew Lizzy Stride was first, killed sometime close to 1 a.m., with Catherine Eddowes following shortly after. They had too much ground to cover and not enough time to do it in.

They’d agreed to split up the murder scenes with Victor heading straight for the second one and Simon Elizabeth to the first. Before the carriage had even come to a full stop, Victor leapt out of it, heading west toward Mitre Square and Catherine Eddowes. Simon didn’t like splitting up, but as much as he hated to admit it, Simon knew he would slow Victor down. He cast a glance at Elizabeth. Slow them both down.

Elizabeth had recovered quickly from whatever Vale had given her. If the doctor had given her the anesthesia…If he’d been too late….

“I’m all right,” she said, reading his thoughts.

She wasn’t, but she was regaining her strength while he was losing his.
 

Simon paid the cabbie and climbed down to the cobblestone street. Elizabeth, in a hodgepodge of clothes borrowed from the hospital, looked like she’d been through Hell. And she had. And so would they both again before this was all over.

She started to run and Simon struggled to keep up. He just couldn’t catch his breath.
 

“Simon?” Elizabeth said, stopping ahead and then coming back to him. “You should wait here.”

The thought of sending her off alone to face Ripper and Vale was unthinkable, and he shook his head. “I’m all right.”

Elizabeth clearly wanted to, but didn’t argue with him and they pressed on. Simon did well for a few blocks, even managing to run. But he knew before they’d even reached Stride’s murder scene in Dutfield’s yard that they were too late. People had already begun to gather. A dozen people crowded into the yard and two constables hurried past them.

“This way,” Simon said, tugging on Elizabeth’s arm and turning back west toward the place Eddowes was found.

He’d considered going there first, but with Vale hunting Graham now, they couldn’t expect her to stick to the script. Even though Travers had told them that both Eddowes and Stride were murdered, as history needed, Simon didn’t trust Vale not to change her plans. But she hadn’t, and they’d wasted precious time. All he could do was pray that Victor got to Graham in time.

They hurried back toward Aldgate and Mitre Square. His chest began to burn in a new and deeply troubling way. Simon’s shortness of breath became almost no breath at all and he had to stop and lean against a building. He tried to pull in air, but his lungs wouldn’t take it. They were only two blocks away now.

“Simon?”

He shook his head, about to tell her he couldn’t go on, when he saw a man crumpled on the ground. He stumbled over to him.

“Victor!”

He was lying face down on the sidewalk. Elizabeth ran to him and knelt down next to him. Slowly, painfully, Simon joined her.

Elizabeth looked up at Simon, worry pulling on her face, before pressing her fingers to Victor’s neck in search of a pulse.
 

There was a long pause before she let out a breath. “He’s alive.”

Simon knelt down and could see the blood matted in his hair on the back of his head. He must have been ambushed on the way.
 

“Vale,” Simon said. She was ahead of them. She was always ahead of them. According to the woman at the desk, she’d left hospital long before the operation was scheduled to begin. That gave her plenty of time to lay a trap for Victor and take care of Graham.

“We have to go,” Simon said, forcing himself to stand.

They’d barely made it to the end of the block when the world tilted.

Simon stumbled to a stop and put his hand against a building to keep from falling.

“Simon,” Elizabeth said softly as she came back to him.
 

She didn’t have to say it. He knew what she was going to say, what she was going to do. She looked in the direction they’d been headed and then back to him.

He shook his head, knowing she was right. He tried to walk, but his head was spinning. He must have a concussion he thought with odd clarity as though he were outside of himself.

“We’re running out of time,” she said.
 

And he was slowing them down. And if they were too late…
 

She touched his cheek, forcing him to look at her. “I love you. I’ll be back. I promise.”

Simon stared at her, his heart breaking. He’d failed her. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “I’ll be back,” she said again and started off, only to turn back and kiss him. He wanted to hold her there, to keep her with him, but she pulled away and ran down the dark street, disappearing into the fog.

~~~

Elizabeth ran toward Mitre Square, alone. She turned up Mitre Street and saw the entrance to the square, just twenty feet away now. Her heart pounded in her chest as she reached the gateway. She ran into the square, but it was empty. She couldn’t make sense of it for a moment, until she saw her, Catherine Eddowes, lying on her back in a puddle of blood.

Elizabeth stumbled over to her and what she saw made her stomach lurch. He hadn’t just cut her throat, he’d butchered her. Her face was disfigured, parts of it missing. Her bonnet lay behind her head, soaked in the blood from her slit throat. Entrails had been torn out of her and placed, staged, over her shoulder.
 

Elizabeth turned to the side and retched. A kind of fear and loathing she’d never felt welled up inside her. This was inhuman. Even though she had faced demons and vampires, the worst and most cruel things she’d seen were always the work of men.

Forcing herself to look away, she stumbled on. Images of Catherine’s face haunted her every step. But the thought of Simon pushed her on. She couldn’t lose him.

It seemed like miles, but it was only a short distance to Graham’s little hovel in the tenement building. Heedless of what she might find, she ran toward it and threw open the front door.
 

She ran up the stairs, adrenaline clearing her head with each step and pulled the door to his room open. It clanged against the wall.

She stood in the doorway, gasping for breath, stunned at what she saw. Graham was lying on the bed, Vale standing over him, a knife plunged into his stomach.
 

Blood dripped off the knife as Vale pulled it out.
 

Elizabeth’s heart stopped. Was she too late? Simon…

The thought of him snapped her out of it. She still remembered him. Their lives together were still part of her. She wasn’t too late. Not yet. Vale lifted the knife again.

“No,” Elizabeth cried and threw herself into the room.
 

Vale jerked her head to the side, her eyes were wild, frenzied. Beneath her, Graham groaned in pain and gasped for breath.
 

As Elizabeth closed the distance between them, Vale turned back to Graham and with a cry raised the knife for another strike.
 

Panic and fear propelled Elizabeth across the room and into Vale. The two of them crashed into the wall at the head of the bed. Vale screamed, something unintelligible, and swung the knife wildly.

Instinctively, Elizabeth held up her arm to shield herself and the knife sliced into her forearm. It burned and she cried out. Vale lunged for her, but Elizabeth managed to step away just in time and Vale stumbled forward.

Elizabeth started to rush her again, but felt a wave of dizziness. No, not now, she thought fighting it until in that same second she didn’t know she needed to.

She lurched forward, disoriented, disconnected. Where was she? She looked up to get her bearings, stopping short at what she saw.

A dark-haired woman turned to glare at her. And, God above, she had a bloody knife in her hand. Elizabeth staggered to a stop and the woman grinned. She started toward Elizabeth and in that instant, the world righted itself. Vale. Elizabeth’s memory was back.
 

She had to get that knife away from her, and now. With renewed energy, Elizabeth tackled her to the floor this time. The knife fell from Vale’s hand and skittered across the floor.

Vale tried to reach for it, but Elizabeth gripped her arm and pulled it back. As she did, she lost her leverage and Vale flipped them both over. Her eyes wild and frenzied, she dug her fingers into Elizabeth’s neck and squeezed.

Beneath Vale now, Elizabeth struggled to pry her hands off her neck. Vale’s eyes were filled with hate and something that could only go by one name—evil. Elizabeth arched and bucked, determined not to give in. Finally, she managed to pry one of Vale’s hands away and grabbed her by the hair, yanking her to the floor beside her.

Immediately, Vale rolled over, reaching out with one hand toward where the knife had slid. Elizabeth gasped for breath and Vale moved too quickly to stop her. In the next moment, Elizabeth found herself flat on her back, as Graham had been, Vale loomed over her again, knife raised above her head. She didn’t hesitate and plunged the blade downward.
 

Purely by reflex, Elizabeth caught Vale’s arm just before she could sink the knife into her chest, but Vale had leverage and Elizabeth’s arms began to weaken. The knife moved inch by inch closer to her heart, until finally she could feel the tip through the thin material of her dress.
 

Elizabeth pushed against her with every last ounce of strength she had, but Vale was too strong. Her eyes bore into Elizabeth’s, willing her to die. The hatred and desperation were so thick, they practically dripped off of her. Elizabeth steeled herself, searching for that last bit of strength. But then, something changed. Vale swayed to the side and her near animalistic rage twisted into confusion.
 

Hope sprang in Elizabeth’s chest. She knew that look, and for the first time, welcomed it. It was happening to Vale! Time was changing for her.

For a brief second, Vale let up, and Elizabeth did not let the opportunity pass. Summoning all her strength, she pushed Vale off her, sending her tumbling to the side and into Graham’s armoire of horrors. The doors swung open.

Elizabeth scrambled to her feet and grabbed the only weapon she could. The lapse didn’t last long and Vale looked up at her, her memory back, her anger renewed. With a cry that came from somewhere deep inside her, Elizabeth swung the empty glass jar and it collided with the side of Vale’s head with a loud, sickening thud. Her eyes still open, she slumped to the floor.

Elizabeth kicked the knife out of Vale’s hand and then held the jar ready for another strike. She stood above her ready, panting for breath, but Vale didn’t move.