Page 17 of Taken by the Ripper (Time for Monsters #9)

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here were two murders today.

The moment Clara picked up a copy of The Star , her stomach sank when she recognized Jack the Ripper’s killing pattern within the article.

The bodies were found in two different places within Whitechapel last night with similar wounds as the other victims, and one of them had been cut from breast to navel.

“Jack,” she whispered, hand held to her mouth in disbelief as she stood in the infirmary with a bloody apron after an appendicitis surgery. “Please tell me you didn’t do this.”

She’d been with Jack last night. For a couple hours. Had he done this before or after they were intimate?

She shook her head and set the news article aside, nausea climbing up her esophagus for the first time in…well, a long time. Death and gore rarely affected her. But this? Knowing who was behind these murders? She needed an explanation.

Not now. Not tomorrow. She’d needed an explanation last night. Why hadn’t Jack said something?

Why hadn’t she asked?

Panic pounded through her veins. Dizziness spun her surroundings. And despite her bloodied apron, she sank onto a chair and focused on breathing deeply through her nose and releasing the breath from her mouth.

Mazie had been out last night. One of the women in the article could have ended up being her. Her sister was lucky. But next time? She might not be.

A rush of determination encompassed her as she leaped to her feet, tossed her bloodied apron aside, and rushed toward the front door just as Mazie stepped outside into the drizzling rain carrying an umbrella and a new pair of gloves.

At least she thought they were new, as she had not seen them before.

Clara stepped into Mazie’s path, and her sister released an annoyed huff. “You can’t keep doing this! I know you’ve been sneaking out.”

“That’s none of your business!”

“It most certainly is my business!” She threw her hands up in exasperation.

“There are things out there that are dangerous. You put me in a dither night after night when I can’t help but worry for your safety.

” She ran a hand down her face, but it didn’t erase the terrible worry plaguing her heart.

“Where are you going every night? Are you entertaining men?”

Again, her gaze darted toward the gloves her sister wore. Unfortunately, Clara didn’t give her sister enough pin money to afford such gloves. It was difficult enough to feed the three of them as it was.

Thunder rumbled across the skies overhead, and Mazie scowled as she adjusted her grip on her umbrella. “You told me to get a job, so I did. I work nights at The Ten Bells pub.”

“But at night?”

Another huff. “Of course, you would disapprove. This is why I didn’t want to speak of it.” Her sister spun on her heel, and the pitter patter of rain hitting her umbrella filled the silence of her momentary shock before the drizzle transitioned into heavy sheets of moisture falling from the sky.

Mazie seemed to want so desperately to fly out of the coop, but didn’t she realize this was dangerous?

Had she been too hard on her, regardless?

Realizing she still wore a single bloody rubber glove from her surgery, she slipped it off her hand, wadded it into a ball, and threw it into a waste bin inside the infirmary.

She spent a long time scrubbing her hands with soap infused with rosemary until her skin turned red and her heart became numb with hurt and confusion.

Thoughts of her sisters became prominent in her mind, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she was handling the situation incorrectly.

In her youth, all she had ever wanted was to follow in her father’s footsteps.

She had worked hard to follow her dreams, and then both her parents had died, leaving her in charge of her sisters.

Despite the strain on her shoulders, was she not allowing Mazie and Norma the same freedom and choices her parents had given her? Was her hold on them too tight?

She flicked the water off her hands before drying them on a cloth, but then she turned.

And froze.

A canister of coffee beans lay on the table across the room, and she wasn’t sure whether to leap for joy or hide in the darkest corner of the estate from both mortification and despair. She could not court two men, even if one of them was a monster. Her mate , as he liked to call her.

She needed to let Claude down gently.

Why did the thought turn her stomach over with disappointment?

Slowly, she approached the canister and inspected it. The coffee beans within rattled as she turned it one way, and then the other. No note accompanied the gift, though she knew without a doubt who it was from.

The heady smell of the beans was enough to make her mouth salivate with the desire to consume it.

It was hardly fair that she needed to return it. Some gifts didn’t come without strings, and she was sure this was one of them.

What a terrible shame. She liked Claude. She liked Jack as well. But she’d already made her choice. There was nothing more to be done.

Still, she held the canister tightly to her chest, not wanting to give it up yet as she made her way to the corridor leading to the drawing room.

But she didn’t take even five steps before a voice stopped her in her tracks.

The deep timber of his French accent sent delightful shivers down her spine.

“Knowing you, the canister will be gone within the week.”

Unable to help herself, Clara laughed, shaking her head as she turned toward Claude. “I can make it last longer than a week. For you on the other hand, this is only a day’s worth…”

Her words trailed off when she found Claude leaning against the wall with one foot propped up behind him and his arms crossed over his chest. But it was the dark, tired shadows beneath his eyes that gave her pause.

It was almost as if he hadn’t slept the entire week of his absence, and not even coffee could fix it this time around.

“Claude!” she gasped as she took his hand and led him across the room, pushing him into a chair. He started to protest, but she shushed him with a finger to his lips.

She slipped a thermometer into his mouth, checked his pupil dilation using the light from a candle, and felt either side of his neck to check for abnormalities. Nothing seemed amiss. Even his temperature came back normal.

Perhaps only one thing could cause this.

“Go home and sleep,” she said in the sternest tone she could manage. “Doctor’s orders.”

“I thought you needed a doctorate to be considered a doctor.”

She glared at him and leaned closer, but her warning stare only caused him to chuckle and return her glare with amusement in his eyes.

“I cannot sleep on the job,” he explained.

“Clearly, you are not sleeping at night, either, due to your obsession with this case. Your superiors can spare you for a few hours during the day.”

“Obsession?” he scoffed. “This killer took two new victims only last night. I cannot afford to lose a single minute to unnecessary frivolities when people are dying.”

He attempted to stand up, but she forcefully shoved him back into the chair and grabbed his stubbled chin to compel him to look into her eyes. “This is not your fault, Claude. You are not to blame for this.”

“Aren’t I? The way the officers look at me… I can feel their judgment through their stares. If I had only been quicker… I could have prevented this.”

She shook her head, still holding onto his chin. “Those same officers were far more incompetent than you. Their judgment holds little flame when they had failed long before you.”

Guilt pressed on her shoulders when she realized she knew far more than he did about his own case. Well, only as much as Jack had told her. But Jack had explicitly instructed her to discourage Claude’s involvement, as he would only get himself killed.

However, she abhorred seeing him so downtrodden and hopeless.

“What have you been doing all this week?” she asked, slowly dropping her hand to her side. “I have not seen you in a while.”

Claude scrubbed his hands over his face and hair, giving the strands a wild look to match his bloodshot eyes.

“I misplaced the files for my case. I don’t know what happened.

They weren’t where I last put them. Either I’m going insane, or there is a leak within the police force.

” He groaned into his hands. “I feel like my progress is only leading me backward.”

She turned her back to him to hide the guilt filling every recess of her expression. She had done this to him. All she had wanted was to protect him. But how was this protecting him? Her trickery had caused hurt instead.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a quavering tone, the apology having multiple meanings beyond his immediate comprehension.

“It’s not your fault,” he sighed.

Oh, if only he knew.

She wanted to confess everything, if only to take away the pain in his eyes and the weariness bogging down his shoulders. She cared about him.

And she knew she shouldn’t. Especially after her night with Jack.

Which wasn’t even his real name. He had not bothered to tell her. What in heaven’s glory was she doing? She’d tangled herself up in far more than she knew what to make sense of. It wasn’t like her to be so careless.

“I need your help again,” Claude said with a weary sigh. “With the victims. Well, with one victim, as the other was a cleaner death.”

“Oh.” She glanced down at the coffee canister she’d set aside, disappointment rolling through her stomach before she managed to stop it. “I suppose the coffee was a bribe.”

Half his mouth twitched in an almost-smile. “My superiors won’t pay a female doctor, so I’m taking it upon myself to reimburse you with your favorite drink.”

“All you had to do was bribe me with the macabre and good company.”

“Oh?” He lifted an eyebrow, and for a moment, the darkness and exhaustion disappeared from his countenance. “I had no idea you thought so highly of me.”