Page 21 of Taken by the Ripper (Time for Monsters #9)
A malicious smile turned up on Ferdinand’s lips as he looped his arm through Mazie’s. “We are counting on that.”
Together, they disappeared from the room, and not once did her sister glance back before even her silhouette vanished from the dim torch light. She continued to reel with disbelief long after, trying to make sense of what had happened. Of what was about to happen.
Silently, she begged Jack to stay away. If Ferdinand had promised she would come to no harm, then the only person in danger was her ghoul. At least for now. And only if he kept his promise. She needed to find a way to escape before Jack put himself in harm’s way for her sake.
She removed the items in her pocket and set them side by side on the ground in front of her. Two scalpels. A bandage. Needle and thread. Nothing silver. No garlic. No holy water or silver cross. If those were truly a vampire’s weakness.
“Mazie,” she whispered, her shoulders slumping with defeat. “What have you done?”
And worst of all…
Clara had unknowingly pushed her sister toward this fate. Perhaps she was the one to blame.
Drip. Drip. Sleep. Drip. Drip. Sleep.
Her routine consisted of listening to the echo of droplets of water splashing into a puddle somewhere in the corner of the room and fighting off the fatigue of a long night. She kept thinking she heard footsteps, and perhaps a couple of times she swore a pair of eyes blinked in the darkness.
But after some time, she convinced herself it was her own mind playing tricks on her.
Or perhaps not…
A pair of red dots blinked in the darkness, and Clara squinted to try to find the outline of someone’s profile, only to find nothing of note. It was unnerving to feel like someone might be watching her but not being able to see them clearly.
A shiver raked down her body as the chill of her surroundings seeped into her being.
She tugged her sleeves farther over her wrists and even attempted to use her thin apron as a blanket, but nothing managed to push away the fierce chill growing colder by the moment.
If this was where the vampires lived, she didn’t blame them for wanting something better.
What she did find fault with was their means of acquiring such a lavish lifestyle. Hundreds—perhaps even thousands—of people would die to achieve the perfect living conditions in this terrible economy.
Please stay away , she silently begged her ghoul. If the vampires got hold of his blood, no one would be safe.
But even as she prayed in her mind that he might keep his distance, she knew. She knew he would not stay away while his mate was in danger in the center of a den of vampires. He would come for her, and she would not be able to forgive herself when he did.
What felt like only minutes later, Clara jolted awake when a fierce roar echoed down the stone hallway and into the prison. She shot upright and took the metal bars in a tight grip while intently watching the doorway.
She recognized that growl. She’d heard it before when Jack had protected her from the vampires in the city.
Shouts, cries, and roars reached her ears, followed by the deafening crash of splintering wood and breaking bricks. Vampires screamed. Others hissed, followed by cries of surprise or pain.
Another angered roar shook her prison, and she launched onto shaky feet when it grew closer, louder.
She tugged and prodded on the bars keeping her captive.
When her efforts proved in vain, she snatched one of her scalpels from the ground and shoved the sharp end into the keyhole.
Although she knew nothing about picking locks, she pushed and jiggled without success.
When the lock refused to give, she braced one of her feet against the bars, her skirt riding up her leg until her stockings and underskirts were exposed.
Then, she tugged on the door with all her might until her muscles protested the harsh strain and her elbows threatened to pop out of their sockets.
She needed to get out of here. She wasn’t about to become a placid duck waiting to get wringed and plucked.
She tugged hard again, but only the bottom of the door gave way while the rest remained shut as if welded together by strong iron.
And then the atmosphere turned quiet.
Clara’s head shot up, her eyes wide with panic as her gaze darted toward the door. The sound of something large being dragged permeated the eerie quiet. At least until a large mass of muscle, spikes, and ragged clothes turned around the corner…
…with two vampires dragging him like a lifeless corpse.
“Jack!” she shrieked, abandoning her efforts at the door to dart across the prison and cling onto the bars closest to him.
The vampires dragged his limp body toward the same cell, and in a quick movement, they unlocked the door, threw him inside, and locked the door behind them.
“If he touches those bars,” one of the vampires warned, a gash in his face seeping blood from cheekbone to cheekbone, “the metal is poison to him. It will kill him.”
Clara glared fiercely at the retreating vampires, her breaths coming fast and labored, filled with anger and hatred. But when Jack groaned, and his head shifted to the side, her attention turned entirely to him.
“Jack!” She rushed toward him and skidded to her knees at his side.
Another vampire she hadn’t noticed hissed and spit a yellowish liquid at the Ripper’s feet she could only assume was venom, because it looked like no saliva she was familiar with. In the man’s hand was a vial filled with a black substance.
Ghoul’s blood.
No, no, no!
“You shouldn’t have come!” she cried and, without hesitation, grabbed his hands and held on tight.
The familiar sharp angles of his face and the deep color of his skin felt like a comforting glove slipping over her heart.
She’d always felt safe with him. That had never changed.
“They have your blood. Whitechapel is in danger.”
After the vampires spoke in low tones to one another, they left the room as if they had pressing matters to attend to now that they had the blood they needed.
“ You were in danger!” he replied in a slurred tone. “I don’t care about the rest of the city when you are the one I cannot live without.”
“I thought you were supposed to be a hero,” she jested, tears of both hurt and relief falling down her cheeks as she lightly stroked his face.
“Beasts are never heroes. They are the ones everybody wants to call a villain.”
“You are my hero then,” she whispered.
“I couldn’t save you.”
“You came after me when no one else would. For years, I have been healing and saving lives, and not one of those people would care to do the same for me. But you did.”
He grunted and tried to sit, though she wasn’t sure if it was because he was in pain or if he had nothing to say on the matter.
Clara noticed the blood coating Jack’s abdomen, where he must have ripped open his stitches, and the discoloration of his skin. But what drew her gaze was the sheen of black dripping from his head and trailing down his neck. She gasped, her fingers fluttering over the wound. “Jack, you’re injured.”
When she reached for his head, he winced. “My name is not Jack. I should have told you long ago. But it was dangerous.”
His words became slurred, and his body unbalanced. As he tipped heavily to one side, she caught him and helped lay him on the ground, away from the bars of the cage that might injure him. The head wound looked bad, but without getting a closer look, she wasn’t sure just how bad.
She reached for his head again, but he lightly batted her hand away.
“Jack,” she murmured quietly, glancing around her to make sure they were still alone. “You need medical attention. I can help.”
He shook his head and hissed through his sharp teeth. “You need the truth.” He winced again. “But first, we need to get you out of here. You need to stand directly beneath sunlight. That way, the vampires can’t touch you.”
“And you?” she asked, her voice breaking. “You think I will leave you at the vampires’ mercy? And Mazie? I don’t care what happens to me as long as she is safe.”
“ I care about what happens to you!” he thundered, but the outburst caused him to tip again as if losing consciousness.
If he lost any more blood, he would certainly keel over soon.
The next words from his mouth were so slurred that she hardly made sense of them.
“You are my mate. I care about what happens to you. And I could not stand idle while you were in danger. I love you.”
Her eyes widened, and her hand flew to her heart. For several long beats, she stared back at him in disbelief, wondering if she’d misheard his confession when he was only half-conscious.
But no. He looked at her with enough clarity in his yellow eyes for her to know the truth. He’d meant those words. He loved her.
“Jack,” she whispered.
Weakly, his hand grasped hers and squeezed with very little strength. “That is not my name. Forgive me, Clara. I never wanted to deceive you like this.”
She opened her mouth to ask after his meaning, but then the faintest sliver of sunlight entered through the barred windows near the ceiling, officially ending the terrors of the night and pulling her into a brand-new day.
The stream of sunlight touched her shoulder like the faintest hope in a vat of darkness. A torturous hope. Because even as she reached out to touch its thin warmth, she could not grasp it within her hands. It wasn’t enough sunlight to defeat one vampire, let alone an entire den.
She turned back to Jack. Her heart leaped to her throat when his large mass was missing as if he’d dissolved into the sunlight himself.
But then she noticed the smaller heap in his place. That person groaned and shifted, and her nursing instincts reared its head as she scrambled toward the man on her hands and knees. She grabbed his partially bare shoulder and turned him from his stomach to his back.
A hiss of shock escaped her as if the mere contact with him burned her hand.
She recognized the man’s tall, intimidating frame.
His angular face. The demon’s kiss striking a scar through his mouth.
And as he blearily opened his eyes, she knew the intense blue staring back at her, as she’d seen it many times.
Despite the dirt coating the blond of his hair and the usual elegant swoop in a mess of dirty strands, she knew him. Without a doubt.
He was the detective apparently trying to solve his own case.
Claude La Cour.