WADSWORTH RESIDENCE,

BELGRAVE SQUARE

9 NOVEMBER 1888

I clung to my brother in the midst of our shared hell, not wanting to step away and make this nightmare real.

Dragging me back across the room, he threw me into a wooden chair next to our mother. “Look what you’ve done! Now I must tie you up for your own safety, Sister.”

I sat there immobile, unable to comprehend what he was saying, which cost precious time. Before I could react, he yanked my arms behind the chair and swiftly tied my wrists together. No matter how hard I strained against the rope, there was no escaping my new prison.

Nathaniel had secured me so soundly the tips of my fingers were already turning icy cold. I tugged and pulled, managing only to scrape my skin raw with each panicked attempt to break free of my bonds.

I screamed, more out of shock than hurt, as he thrust the syringe into the thin skin on my inner arm. “Stop it, Nathaniel! This is madness! You cannot revive Mother!”

My pleas didn’t stop him from sinking the plunger in and drawing out my blood. His first attempt failed and he drove the needle in a second time, ripping a yelp from me. I clenched my teeth and gave up struggling, knowing it wouldn’t do any good.

He was too far gone. Science had overtaken his humanity.

Once he’d filled the glass tube with my blood, he smiled kindly and blotted at my skin with a cotton swab he dabbed in alcohol.

“There, now. That wasn’t so bad, was it? A little prick, no more. Honestly, Sister. You act as if I was torturing you. Half the women I freed from their chains of sin didn’t cry so much. Have some dignity, would you?”

“What have you done?”

Nathaniel jumped and I jerked in my chair, startled by the sound of Father’s voice at the edge of the stairs. He hadn’t shouted, making it all the more terrifying. I cringed, more from habit than from true fear at being caught doing something potentially dangerous. I was strangely less intimidated of Nathaniel, even knowing the atrocities he was capable of, than of Father when he got angry.

Perhaps I was simply used to the daily mask of a good son and brother that Nathaniel wore. Father never hid his demons, and maybe that scared me more.

“You… you…” I watched Father’s gaze leave my bindings then linger on the steam-powered heart, the muscle in his jaw twitching ever so slightly as his attention moved onto who the organ was residing in.

Father walked over to the contraption, then lifted one of the tubes carrying the black substance. He followed the tube around the table, halting when he got close to Mother. In that moment I saw an entirely new side of my father. Here before us was a man who seemed as if he’d been fighting a battle for years and had just realized it was close to coming to an end. He sucked in a deep breath and turned his attention back on me, his gaze locked onto my arm restraints. “How could you do this, Son?”

It disturbed me how still we all were. Nathaniel seemed to be stuck to the floor, unable to move his feet even the slightest inch, while Father shifted and quietly stared at his wife with growing horror and denial.

Without turning around again, Father said, “Untie your sister. Now.”

“But Father, I’m so close to waking Mother…” Nathaniel squeezed his eyes shut at the glare Father shot at him. “Very well, then.”

Finally, my brother faced me, jaw clenched and eyes still defiant. I followed his gaze taking in my bound wrists and tear-stained cheeks. He nodded curtly. Once. The heavy charge electrifying the room seemed to build to a crescendo.

For a few tense seconds he glanced between the syringe and our mother, his chest rapidly rising and falling to the same manic beat of the steam-powered heart.

“Very well.” He peeled his own fingers away from the syringe, then set it on the table. A sob broke out of my chest and he turned to me once again. I steeled myself against my fear as he slowly stepped closer, mumbling.

“Be quick about it,” Father barked.

Nathaniel took a deep breath, then nodded again, as if comforting himself about something before finally loosening the ropes at my wrists.

I stared at my brother, but he simply hung his head. Whispered voices cried, “Run! Run!” but I couldn’t force my feet toward the stairs.

Father lifted a lock of Mother’s hair, his expression wiped clean of all emotion except for one: disgust. “I’ve never claimed to have succeeded in taking care of either of you. As parents, we only do what we think is best. Even if we fail miserably at our duty.”

Tears collected in the corners of his eyes as he continued staring at my mother’s ruined face. I swallowed, unsure of where to go from here. It seemed my family relationships were not at all what they appeared to be. Nathaniel moved closer to our father and gazed down at Mother. It was too much. I had to leave this place.

Monsters were supposed to be scary and ugly. They weren’t supposed to hide behind friendly smiles and well-trimmed hair. Goodness, twisted as it might be, was not meant to be locked away in an icy heart and anxious exterior.

Grief was not supposed to hide guilt of wrongdoing.

In what sort of world could such vast dichotomies co-exist? I longed for the comfort of a scalpel between my fingertips, and the scent of formalin crisp in the air. I wanted a cadaver that was in need of forensic study to clear my mind.

My attention strayed back to my mother. Perhaps I should focus on healing the living from now on. I’d seen enough death to last ten thousand lifetimes. Maybe that’s precisely why Uncle and Thomas started experimenting with organ transplants.

Thomas. With a sudden jolt, I realized how much I loved him and needed to be with him. He was the only truth left in the world I understood.

“Where do you think you’re running off to?” Father asked, a demanding edge in his tone.

Even now, in the face of this sinister lab and all that was revealed, he wanted to protect me from the outside world. He was too mad to see this place was exactly the kind of thing he’d been keeping me from all my life.

A disease much worse than pox or cholera or scarlet fever lived here.

Violence and cruelty were something else entirely.

“I’m going upstairs, and I’m locking Nathaniel in here,” I said, sparing my brother one last glance as he petted Mother’s hair. “Then I’m paying Scotland Yard a visit. It’s time each of us owned our truths, no matter how twisted and horrendous they are.”

“You can’t be serious,” Nathaniel gasped, looking to our father for assistance. I moved across the room, studying Father. He seemed torn between wanting to do right and wanting to protect his child. Indecision lifted from his features.

“They’ll have your brother hanged,” he said quietly. “Could you honestly watch that happen? As a family, have we not suffered enough?”

It was an arrow shot straight through my heart, but I couldn’t bury the truth. If I didn’t go to the police, I’d live a thousand lifetimes in regret. Those women did not deserve to suffer at all. I couldn’t ignore that.

“Mother would expect me to do the right thing, even if it’s brutally hard.”

I looked at my father, feeling sympathy for him. What must it be like, knowing you raised the devil? It probably felt the same as knowing you sat by a monster day in and day out, never noticing the blackness of his soul.

Father gazed at me for a long moment, then nodded. I offered him a weak smile before facing my brother. Even though he’d committed wretched things, I still couldn’t find it in my heart to hate him. Perhaps we were all mad.

“Wadsworth? Audrey Rose!” A panicked shout rang out from the stairwell, followed by a clatter of feet banging down the stairs. A second later Thomas dashed into the room, looking rumpled for the second time in his life. He halted before me, his eyes running over my face and body, pausing on my wrists. “You’re all right?”

I stared at him, unable to answer his question. Unable to comprehend he was actually standing here with me. There was a flash of relief in his face before he looked away. He eyed Nathaniel as he moved farther into the room.

“I suggest you leave before Scotland Yard comes for you.” He glanced from my father’s stunned face to Nathaniel’s, his tone as somber as their expressions. “You didn’t honestly believe I’d show up unprepared, did you?” Thomas smiled sadly at me. “I’m truly sorry, Audrey Rose. This is one instance I hate being right.”

“How did you—” Nathaniel began asking.

“How did I discover you’re our infamous Jack the Ripper?” Thomas interrupted, moving closer to me, sounding more like himself. “It was quite simple, really. Something had been bothering me from the night Wadsworth and I followed your father home from Miss Mary Jane Kelly’s flat.”

“You what?” Father flashed an incredulous look our way.

“Apologies, sir. Anyway, there are no such things as coincidences in life. Especially when murder is involved. If your lordship was not involved, then who?”

“Who indeed,” Nathaniel muttered, not very impressed.

“I studied Superintendent Blackburn this evening, finding his actions genuine. Plus, he was missing the biggest clue I’d come across. When I went over details in my mind a thought occurred to me—our murderer might be involving himself in our case somehow. Lord Wadsworth and Blackburn, though good leads, were not involved. I could not find a single motive for either of them. Nor could I locate a particular clue I’d unearthed to implicate them.”

Thomas moved directly in front of me, planting himself between me and my bloodthirsty brother, who looked as if he was about to rip Thomas’s limbs from him.

“You, however, were quite curious about the case. Starting that vigilante group was a nice touch,” Thomas said almost appreciatively. “Then there was the pesky matter of those women with connections to your father. Since I’d ruled Lord Wadsworth out, that allowed my mind to stray. Your uncle has this theory, fascinating, really, about career murderers killing those they know. At least to start with.”

Nathaniel’s attention flicked to the blade he’d left near Mother. I gripped onto Thomas’s arm, but he wasn’t through showing off his deduction skills.

“While on my way to Scotland Yard tonight, I remembered seeing drops of blood on our last victim’s flayed skin. From the way the drops had fallen, it was obvious it didn’t come from Miss Kelly. Leading me to deduce our murderer would’ve sustained injuries of his own.”

“And how, exactly, did that lead you here?” Nathaniel asked, moving toward the knife on the table.

Thomas was not intimidated, though I was about to shout or jump for the weapon myself. “I recalled seeing cuts on your fingertips a few weeks prior. At the time it didn’t seem important enough to comment on. As I mentally walked through your last crime, I finally understood where you were hiding your weapon.”

He allowed a knife to fall from the inside of his own overcoat, surprising us all as he held the weapon up.

“I was able to replicate the very same wounds on myself. See?”

Nathaniel clenched his fists, staring at Thomas like he was a rat that needed to be exterminated immediately. “You must feel extraordinarily clever.”

The smug expression normally kissing Thomas’s face was absent when his eyes found mine. “The only thing I feel is extraordinarily sorry you’ve hurt your sister so deeply.” Thomas glanced around the room, then checked his pocket watch. “I wasn’t jesting about Scotland Yard. I told them a crime was being committed in this house. Either stay and accept your fate or start again new. Be the brother Audrey Rose thought you to be, and the son your father deserves.”

Father looked upon Thomas with appreciation gleaming in his eyes.

Thomas was offering my brother a chance at life. A chance to atone for his sins and still know the police would be looking for him. It wasn’t right, but it was a chance I was willing to take for my family.

I took a deep, shuddering breath and faced my brother. “Either your reign of terror is over, or your life is over. You decide.”

Nathaniel released a nervous bark of laughter before his expression turned cold. “Here’s a warning for you, dear Sister. Should you ever threaten me again, I’ll destroy both you and your idiotic friend before he ever dreams of finding me.”

“Nathaniel.” Father shook his head. “Do not intimidate your sister.”

Nathaniel’s words stung, but not as badly as the icy look he gave me. All the warmth that made him my brother was absent.

Sensing my hurt, Thomas reached for my hand. He was offering me his strength and I gladly accepted. It was time to be finished with this nightmare. I turned to give my brother one last look, hoping to remember him exactly as he was before I walked away. Only he was no longer watching me with those cold, dead eyes.

Grabbing the syringe, he flipped the electrical switch, intent on finishing his unseemly work. Blue and white light hissed and fizzed, cracking the air with its power as it whipped along the needle and into Mother’s coffin. Something wasn’t right, though.

There was disorder to Nathaniel’s process. He was doing things all wrong. He was supposed to inject Mother with the blood first, then flip the switch. But why? My mind whirled as the electrical buzz filled the air.

Nathaniel raised the metal syringe, a startling realization crashing through my mind exactly one second too late.

“No!” I shouted, my voice sucked away with the clamor. Thomas held fast to me as I struggled in his arms. I needed to run to my brother, to save his miserable life. Nathaniel stared, unseeing, through me, and I cried out for him again. “No! Nathaniel, you mustn’t! Let go of me!”

The buzz was overwhelming. It set my teeth clattering and made breathing nearly impossible. My brother appeared unaffected. I shouted again, to no avail.

“Stop this madness, Nathaniel,” Father growled over the din. “I said—”

My brother thrust the syringe into our mother’s chest, metal connecting to metal with nothing protecting him from its surge. Mother’s body lurched forward before collapsing back onto the table and twitching. I tore my gaze from her, desperate to help my brother.

“Nathaniel!” I screamed as he shook in place, unable to drop the metal syringe and disconnect himself from the malevolent current.

A bloody stream poured from his nose and mouth at the same time smoke rose around his collar. I wrestled and kicked like a wild animal refusing to be tamed.

“Let go, Thomas! Let me go.”

“You cannot help him,” Thomas said, his arms fused around my body, caging me. “If you touch him now, you’ll suffer his same fate. I’m sorry, Audrey Rose. I’m so sorry.”

I sunk against Thomas, knowing he’d never let me fling myself into death. It felt like years had passed when suddenly Nathaniel flew back from the force, his body smashing into the wall and crumpling in a heap of smoldering clothes.

Silence blanketed the room like freshly fallen snow. Everything was too quiet and too loud all at once. Even the machines had finally stopped pumping.

Mother’s body jolted once more, then fell still.

I blinked, needing to focus on one horror at a time. My attention shifted to my brother. Nathaniel’s head hung at a fatal angle, but I couldn’t accept it. I wouldn’t. He’d get up. He’d be sore and bruised, but he’d live. My brother was young and he’d survive and make up for his sins. He would apologize and seek help to fix whatever had made him violent. It’d take time, but the old Nathaniel would return to us. I waited, holding my breath. He would rise. He had to.

The scent of burnt hair filled the space and I suppressed rolling nausea.

I watched my father slowly collapse to his knees, covering his face with his hands and sobbing, “My precious boy.”

It was too much to take in. I felt myself swaying but had to be sure of one thing before I lost myself. I peered at Mother’s body, relieved she wasn’t moving. Then a terrible sadness crushed me: Nathaniel’s rampage had been for naught.

“Please. Please get up.” I stared at my brother’s ruined hair. I wanted him to stand up and reach for that blasted comb. He needed to fix it. He’d hate it if someone saw him that way. I silently counted to thirty. It was the longest he’d ever gone without addressing disastrous hair. When I reached thirty-one he still hadn’t moved.

I fell to the ground, dry-heaving as realization sank in.

Nathaniel would never care about his hair again. He’d never drink another bottle of imported brandy. He’d never picnic with a hamper from Fortnum & Mason or help me escape Father’s pretty cell. He’d done horrific things, then left me to pick up the shattered pieces of our lives. Alone.

I screamed until my throat was raw. Thomas tried soothing me, but all I could think was: Jack the Ripper was dead. My brother was dead.

I continued screaming until darkness held me in its welcome embrace.