Page 37 of Dark Embrace
She hesitated then went to the door, pressing her palms against the frame. She could not say how she knew it, but she did—she knew he waited, listening until she turned the key inthelock.
Her hand trembled, and she held it out flat, watching the fluttering movement, feeling the reflection of that quaking in her soul. With a sigh, she rested her forehead against the wood and imagined that on the far side of the door, Killian leaned in and didthesame.
A moment later, she heard the creak of the chair as he sat, and it was only then that she recalled there was no light on the landing, and Killian had taken nocandle.
She wondered how he would read the story ofThe Vampyreinthedark.
Muted sounds carriedfrom below when Sarah awakened the following morning. The house was stirring. Shards of light stole through the crack where the ancient, frayed curtains met. Recalling all that had passed the previous night, the fear of being hunted, the thrill of being kissed, she gathered her resolve and crossed to the door. Throwing it open, she found Killian gone from the hallway, andThe Vampyreresting on thechair.
He must have left at the first sign of dawn as he had promised. She was both disappointed and relieved by that. Relieved, too, because the confit box and ribbon were gone. Either the sisters had discovered the items or Killian had taken them away, a small but welcomekindness.
She washed and dressed with haste, for the hour was later than she preferred. Soon, she walked briskly along Portugal Street toward the hospital, her thoughts consumed by recollections of all that had passed between her and Killian, her emotions in a terrible state of confusion. Questions scurried about in her mind like the mice in the hallways of King’s College. She had run the gamut last night from abject terror as the unknown man chased her through the alleys, to absolute bliss as Killian kissed her, his mouth hot and hungry onherown.
His kiss had aroused both her body and her mind, weaving her in a spell of delicious wonder. His abrupt withdrawal had left her adrift, uncertain what to think, whattofeel.
One thing she did know was that, oddly, last night she had slept better than any night since her father’s drowning, and she was grateful to Killian for that. After the terror she had endured during her panic-scored flight to Coptic Street, it was only the knowledge that he guarded her that had allowed her to sink into sweet slumber, and once there, she had dreamedofhim.
There was danger in allowing herself to succumb to the lure of his protection, for who would watch over her tonight and in the nights to come? Only herself, as it had been only herself for so many months now. She was proud of that, of her ability to find solutions and care for herself in a city that was far from kind to a woman alone. Still, the luxury of allowing herself to be protected for a single night had been a sweet andwonderfulbalm.
And adistraction.
In the end, she had never learned why Killian had waited for her outside Mrs. Cowden’s house, the question of that forgotten in the muddle of other concerns and the heady lure ofhiskiss.
She was left wondering about that this morning as she made her way along the street, about his reasons for seeking her out lastnight.
Better to think of that than to ponder their late-night confessions where each had owned the paucity of their lives, the emptiness, the loneliness. She knew why she was alone. In part, it was the life she had led with her father, one which had offered few opportunities to cultivate friendships. In part, it was the lack of relatives. And in part, it was by choice for while she did not doubt she could find a man to marry her, she had no wish to marry a man who would limit her life to the four walls of their home, to washing his laundry and cooking his meals. No, she was better off alone and working at King’s College, which at least offered her opportunities to learn, to expand her knowledge, to care for others whoneededher.
But better off or not, she was not merely alone. She was lonely, aching for someone to talk to, to laugh with, to cry with,tolove.
Still, it was better to live a life of poverty and loneliness than to sacrifice the personshewas.
Reaching the hospital, she hurried inside, out of the biting wind. After hanging her cloak away, she went to the sick ward and found Elinor there ahead of her, setting out bowls onthetray.
The other woman set aside her task and hurried over to grab Sarah’s arm and draw her to one side. “Have you heard?” the widow asked in a low voice, her eyes wide and round. Her words suggested she had a new tidbit of gossip to share, but her expression and tone belied that. Elinor was disturbed, afraid, and the words she shared were a cry of distress. “There’s been another death. This one worse than the others. The victim’s throat was torn open, and still not a drop of blood to be found.” She tightened her grip on Sarah’s arm. “Explain that by bugs and fever and excoriation, if you can, SarahLowell.”
Reeling with the horror of Elinor’s words, Sarah stood frozen in mute dismay. A greasy knot of dread congealed in her gut. Finally, she managed to croak, “Where?”
“Surgical ward. Mr. Simon found him anhourago.”
An hour ago. Before dawn. “What was Mr. Simon doing here so early? He usually comes inpastnine.”
“He said he had concern for the patient he trephined yesterday. Wanted to see how he had weathered thenight.”
Sarah held very still, sensing the answer before she even asked the question. “And how had he weathered thenight?”
“He’s the one who is dead.” Her reply scratched at Sarah’s composure and sent a whisper of icy foreboding curling through her veins. Elinor darted a quick look around the ward and dropped her voice even further. “Yesterday, Mr. Simon and Mr. Thayne had words over that patient. Mr. Thayne said that the man had been insensate for over a week since he fell from the roof of the Bull and Mouth Inn, that he was unresponsive to stimulus of any kind, even pain. Mr. Thayne said he wasn’t likely to get any better if Mr. Simon drilled a hole in his skull. But Mr. Simon said there was no way to know for certain and so he went ahead and did itanyway.”
“And today the manisdead.”
“Not just dead.” Elinor pressed her lips into a tight line. “Murdered. There can be no doubt of it now, no simple explanations, or even convoluted ones, to brush asideconcerns.”
Sarah stared at her, then looked around the ward. The patients were restless and wary, watching them, straining to hear their words. “Everyone knows?” sheasked.
Elinornodded.
“Imustsee—”
Elinor nodded again. “Goon.”