Camille (5 page)

“What was that about?” I asked.

“Oh, that. I needed a table to work on.” The
blush diffused from her cheeks.

“Em, I’m not talking about the table. I’m
talking about the man.”

She shrugged. “I see no need to live a
completely solitary existence. Besides, Samuel brings me anything I
ask for.”

I jumped to my feet. “At what price? Emily,
I’m shocked.”

“Really? Don’t be.” She stood and wrapped her
arm through mine, and we walked toward her room.

It was only October but autumn was scooting
away on brisk breezes. I opted for trousers again since they
provided more protection from the cold and because I’d be traveling
to the East End alone. I reached for my lucky hat, the John Bull
topper I’d found in Hyde Park, and pulled it low over my brow. It
was a look that would have made Emily cringe. The visit yesterday
with my sister had stirred my thoughts all day. I told myself I
should be happy about her rather unseemly relationship with the
hospital worker. But envy left a bitter taste in my mouth. She’d
been concealed within the walls of Bethlem, rarely even stirring
out of doors, and she’d formed an attachment. While her beauty
could have afforded her a much better suitor in the outside world,
she’d managed to find affection within the limited population
around her.

Dr. Bennett met me at the front door and
handed me his coin purse. “I saw the men unpacking boxes of oranges
and winter pears yesterday at Covent Garden. Maybe you should stop
for some. Fresh fruit might make a tasty lure for a hungry boy. And
buy a few for home.”

I nodded and tucked the coin purse into my
trouser pocket. “A bejeweled corpse would make a better lure, but I
don’t suppose you have one of those.” I bounced up to my tiptoes
and kissed him on the cheek.

“Be careful, Cami. You know the rule.”

“If anything smells the slightest bit sour,
then leave off right away.” I turned to go. I only hoped I could
smell something sour beneath the rotten stenches of the lower East
End.

Ribbons of yellow, red, and green vegetables
stretched across the long line of grocers’ carts at Covent Garden.
The flower girls were hard at work tempting shoppers with their
tiny clusters of violets. Several stands displayed the early
treasures of winter, solid oranges, tart grapes and French pears.
Not wanting to weigh myself down with heavy fruit, I purchased one
orange and one pear. There would be more tomorrow. Besides, I
wasn’t sure how to use them as a lure.

My purchase being made, I braced myself for
the heavy horse and foot traffic of Whitechapel Road and the public
house off Buck’s Row. I had no notion of how to find our specimen,
but I was even more worried about how I would approach him if I
spotted him.

I slipped into the tavern and sat on the same
bench. The few patrons looked too steeped in misery to notice a
small visitor. Because it was day, no candles or lanterns were lit,
making the place more dreary and cold than the night before. I
surveyed the room and saw only two familiar faces, the man behind
the counter, who was no doubt the owner, and the red haired
girl.

The girl slouched on a chair at one of the
tables. In the dim light drifting across the threshold, I could see
her face. The heavy makeup from the night before had been smeared
away and dark rings circled her eyes. Her red hair was piled in a
matted mess atop her head. It dawned on me that she was no more
than twenty. A shadow crossed the floor, and my eyes flitted to the
entrance. The other girl had returned.

“There you are, Jane. You look a sight, you
do.”

The red head sat forward and put her elbows
on the table. “And where ‘ave you been, Nell? Rutting around with
that worthless man of yours?”

Nell slid out a chair and sprawled her legs
apart as she sat. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” the girl teased.
“The man I’ve been with weren’t the least bit worthless.”

“The draper’s assistant then?” Jane slumped
back uninterested.

“I’ve been with Strider.”

Jane shot forward and leaned her face close
to Nell, who beamed at the interest she’d provoked. I leaned
forward as well.

“You’re a lyin’ pig,” Jane sneered. “I saw
Strider leave ‘ere barely able to stand on his own.” She slumped
back again.

Nell adjusted the tattered shawl around her
shoulders. “He’s feelin’ much better now. Spent the last two hours
with ‘im on the shoemaker’s stoop.” A satisfied smile spread across
her face.

It was hard to know whether the girl was
telling the truth or whether she was determined to rile Jane. If
she was telling the truth, then I could only assume that Strider’s
health had improved greatly. Jane and Nell sat in silence now, one
of them smiling and the other seething. They were completely
ignorant of the fact that the object of their affections would soon
transform into a flesh-tearing beast, the likes of which they could
never have imagined.

“You there!” The owner waved a gnarled finger
at me from behind his counter. “If you’re not buying nothing, then
off with you.” His command drew the attention of the girls. They
snickered at me as I stood and hurried out the door.

The air outside smelled thick with sewage. I
swallowed back the fetid taste in my throat and headed in the
direction of the shoemaker’s shop.

Not two blocks from the place, a soft moan
rolled out from an alley. A girl’s delighted giggle mingled with a
young man’s voice. I felt my cheeks grow warm. As I rushed past,
something caught my eye. An old sailor’s coat lay draped over a
tattered basket. I pressed myself next to the rough brick façade
and peered around the corner.

I’d seen him for the first time two nights
ago, and saw him only from behind now, but I recognized the broad
shoulders and black hair instantly. The girl in his clutches was
small and blonde like Emily, and I could see a heavy pink blush on
her cheeks as he bent to kiss her. His long leg was tucked between
her thighs. Nathaniel Strider was an impossible blackguard, but I
could not look away.

Strider pulled the blouse from her shoulder.
“You know I’m always thinking of you, Love.”

A laugh escaped my lips. My hand flew to my
mouth. It was the tiniest sound, yet his head quickly turned, and
his eyes found me instantly. His heated gaze made my breath come in
short spurts. I dropped my arms and clenched my fists so hard,
fingernails bit into my palms. My first instinct was to pull back
out of view, but I found myself looking around the corner again. I
made not a sound, at least not a sound that a human could hear, and
his eyes flicked toward me.

The cad continued to caress the girl’s
shoulder with his mouth, all the while staring at me. His glare
bordered on mischievous. The bloody bastard took pleasure in being
watched. He lifted his head and smiled wickedly at me before
returning his full attention to the girl. I stumbled back several
steps and raced to Whitechapel without looking back.

Once lost in the melee of Whitechapel Road, I
stopped to catch my breath. My ears throbbed with the cold, and I
felt lightheaded. I unfurled my fingers. Thoughts tangled in my
head. I’d known full well that citizens on the East End behaved
differently. But this wasn’t about the way I’d seen Nathaniel
Strider behaving. This was envy over the girl he kissed.

After Emily’s revelation the morning before
had settled in my mind, I realized I was less shocked than
resentful. Emily had someone to stroke her hair, someone to press
lips on her, someone to stare at her as if she were an angel. It
was the same jealousy I felt now about the girl who stood in the
alley being caressed by Nathaniel Strider’s mouth.

My fingers lightly brushed my own lips. I
wondered what it would be like to be kissed by him. Of course, I
could just ask any of the girls on the East End. That thought
extinguished my romantic notions instantly. Nathaniel Strider could
never love. He’d obviously discovered early on that girls’ hearts
were vulnerable, and all a lad needed was a penetrating gaze and a
disarming smile and the world was at his feet. For the moment, I’d
seen enough of my charge.

My pace slowed considerably on my return
home. Dr. Bennett had a rather distorted view of my courage. I
wanted to end the midnight hunts more than he did, but I sensed
this plan of his would not end well for any of us. To find a way to
stop this in less than thirty days seemed no more possible than
stopping the moon from completing its cycle. And from the keen
sense of hearing and sight our specimen displayed in the shadows
between the buildings, it was obvious his transformation had
begun.

Thirst and hunger made my head ache. The pear
drooped heavy in my pocket. I pulled it out and took a bite. A lure
for that rake? Not unless I tucked it between my breasts.

The blur of people and animals made me dizzy.
I leaned against a lamppost to eat my fruit and watch the street
locksmith busy at his trade. A small girl stood patiently near her
father who waited for the locksmith to fashion a key. The girl
enjoyed her biscuit, taking no notice of the boisterous crowd
sweeping past or the waterfall of crumbs on her pink dress. My
spirits had sunk. It may have been my weakened state or the emotion
of the morning, but the whole scene in front of me triggered a
memory. The blood drained from my head, and I held onto the
lamppost for support. The image before me blurred as I remembered
back to a little girl in a pink dress licking a half-penny ice
while her father laughed with the local locksmith. I shook my head
to clear it.

I dropped the half eaten pear and hurried
home. I’d had enough distress for the morning. Locating Strider
would not be a problem. He seemed to be getting around fine even
with the injured leg. Indeed, from what I had witnessed, Nathaniel
Strider was more than fine. I had no clue how to bring him home to
the lab. How could I possibly tempt him from the bevy of
enthusiastic girls he had waiting for him around every corner? Lost
in my worried thoughts, I pushed hastily past a boardman and
smacked my shoulder on his jutting sign.

“Watch yourself, laddie,” the man called
after me.

Bloody grand. I’d spent so much time in
trousers, everyone assumed I was a boy. And the only way to catch
the interest of Nathaniel Strider was to be a wanton female or a
rich corpse. I was in trouble.

Sir Dutch greeted me at the door. We’d given
him the title of Sir when he’d first shown his uncanny ability to
sense werewolves. Dr. Bennett and I had wandered out rather
aimlessly one night, not quite sure where to begin our search. I’d
carried Dutch because we’d found that when left alone, he’d shred
drapes and overturn vases. We’d read about a bill-sticker near
Lambeth who’d fought off a vicious dog attack by clubbing the
animal with his paste can. Dr. Bennett and I’d headed toward
Lambeth, and as we passed several warehouses along the Thames, the
cat hissed and growled. Dr. Bennett deduced that the cat was
warning us and drew his weapon. The night came to a grisly end with
the sharp blast of a gun. On the way home, we’d decided Dutch was
not a proper name for a hero, so we knighted him Sir Dutch.

Dr. Bennett sat in the marmalade room poring
over science publications. The fire from the morning had died to a
red shimmer. His morning coffee sat stale and cold in its cup.

“You must be famished, John.”

He startled at the sound of my voice. “You’re
home. Did you find our young man?”

I placed the orange in front of him. “I found
him, but he was occupied.” I had no intentions of going into the
details. “I must admit, I’m not sure how to proceed with this.”

“You may have to be blunt and tell him he is
in grave danger.” Dr. Bennett removed his eyeglasses and rubbed his
eyes before resting back in the chair. The morning paper was spread
over the seat of the settee. “Perhaps it would be better if I spoke
to the lad.”

His offer tempted me, but I was determined to
try again. Besides, the randy bloke needed a good smack of reality,
and I treasured the thought of giving it to him. “I’m not ready to
give up yet.”

“Very well. But remember time is limited.” He
picked up a Mendel’s publication about the hybridization of
plants.

I sat across from him and fingered the copy
of Darwin’s book on Natural Selection. “Finding anything
significant?”

“I’m afraid I’m looking in the wrong places.
Mendel’s and Darwin’s theories are all about changes over long
periods of time.” He closed the books in front of him. “This
transformation of human to werewolf happens at an alarming rate. It
defies all of these theories. You saw those cells this morning. The
lad had contact with the beast only hours before and already, there
was transmutation. I must start back at the beginning. I must
return to the theory of cells.” He placed his palm on some papers
near the corner of the table. “I’m going to peruse some of
Virchow’s cellular studies next. Maybe he has some wisdom to
impart.” He smiled. “After all, the man spends nearly as much time
at the microscope as me.”

“You read through the paper then?” I looked
pointedly at the settee.

He glanced over at the splayed paper. “No new
attacks mentioned. Only the death of the…” His words trailed off.
“He had three children.”

I spotted Schwann’s book on the theory of
cells in the pile and pushed it in front of him. “All the more
reason to carry-on.” I picked up the orange and peeled it. The
sweet citrus fragrance filled the room. “Father used to say that
peeling an orange was like bringing a piece of sunshine into the
house.” It was rare when I mentioned memories of my father, but the
sight of the girl with her father at the locksmith’s cart had
released some of them.

Dr. Bennett nodded weakly. The burden he
carried showed in his brow.