Page 31

Then Edward lowers his hands.

His gaze holds mine in anticipation. “And after that?”

I look down at the blood on the floor. Brilliant crimson. Terrible and beautiful.

“After that,” I say, “one of you is going to explain why the world came back in color the moment I walked into this room. Then we will go our separate ways.”

Melancholy shadows Edward’s face at my last statement.

Several hours transpire as we write a detailed letter to the town paper regarding the capture, carefully creating what we need to fulfill my plan of action.

I will not easily forgive Lazarus for his transgression, but I may accept the feeling of relief that Jack the Ripper is deceased. Not here to haunt our streets and terrorize our town.

We sit in silence, hacking up the body, in order to deliver some to the farm hand that Lazarus partners with to dispose of the remains. Carefully I sever from the knees down, chopping the limbs into smaller pieces and throwing them within a wooden crate. I borrowed some attire from the brothers, which fits overlarge on my smaller frame. One moment I’m donning the items, I caught Edward stealing glances alongside Lazarus. I cannot believe I am placing good faith in these men I have just met, if it wasn’t for Edward I wouldn’t be in this scenario. I would have slaughtered them all.

Edward.

A person I had longed to know. Grew fond of but never knew. Coming to find he is like me… A villain… A monster…

He mentioned The Collector, which brought my mind to inquire about this employer of his. I make a mental note as Alcott’s voice interrupts the deep thoughts swirling in my mind.

“While we work, we should exchange our life stories, hmm? I could wager they are rather interesting for a gaggle of heathens like us.” His sharp eyes land on mine, and I am transfixed. Something about him pulls me in. Dangerous. Cunning.

“Do not,” Edward warns his brother.

Swiftly I look away. Lazarus’s soft laugh fills the room, warming a part of my spirit on this cold, dark evening.

“Well, you bring up a correct observation,” Lazarus says, setting another wrapped parcel into the crate with unsettling care. “I believe we all must have lived rather interesting lives if they have resulted in our current occupations.”

Alcott’s smile widens. Edward’s expression hardens.

“Lazarus,” Edward warns.

The Slaying Sickle lifts both hands. “What? Shall we pretend this is ordinary? Four murderers gathered in a shop, disassembling Jack the Ripper while discussing newspaper correspondence and disposal methods? I think not.”

I should be repulsed. Perhaps a better woman would be. Instead, I find myself watching the three of them with an unfamiliar warmth unfurling somewhere beneath my rib cage.

Not comfort exactly. Comfort is too soft a word for a room slick with blood. Belonging, perhaps. That thought unsettles me more than the severed limbs.

“I’ll go first,” Lazarus announces.

“Must you?” Edward mutters in annoyance.

“I must.” He gives a cheeky smile of defiance toward Edward, then winks in Alcott’s direction.

Alcott rests his hip against the edge of the worktable, entirely too entertained. “Do continue. I am terribly invested.”

Lazarus clears his throat as though preparing to address a lecture hall rather than a room of criminals. “My mother was a woman of the night.”

The room quiets. Only the wet sound of work remains.

“She was not gentle,” he continues, the humor in his voice thinning. “Nor particularly fond of me. She possessed a talent for cruelty that would have impressed The Devil himself.”

His gaze flicks to Jack’s remains as he continues, his words thoughtful. “But the women around her were kind. They fed me. Scolded me. Patched my clothes. Taught me which men were dangerous and which were merely pathetic.”

A small, sad smile touches his mouth. “Delphi was one of them. More sister than friend. When this bastard killed her, I decided the world would be much improved without him breathing in it. I often kill men who harm those with little power.”

He looks toward me then. No jest. No flirtation. Only grief. “I am sorry I took your moment, Olive. Truly.”