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Andreas screamed, guttural and unhinged. I’d taken the last of his Liesel from this earth. Mephistopheles yelled my name, perhaps in warning, but I was already aware of the danger as he ran at the fortune-teller, barreling into him. I didn’t cry out as I crashed into Thomas, wrapping my arms around him, knocking us both to the ground, nor did I make a sound as Andreas’s knife sank deep into my flesh.
It struck exactly where I’d imagined it would. In that moment, I felt darkly victorious. I’d gone up against the monster and protected the one I loved. I’d banished my doubts. At first there wasn’t any pain, and I foolishly believed he’d missed hitting anything vital. That Thomas and I were both going to escape from this nightmare whole and unharmed. That the two of us would live out our days in the country, exactly as I’d said we would. That I’d spend as long as it would take to make things right between us, to earn back his love and prove mine.
But that blissful nothingness didn’t last. A moment later a sharp, searing sensation tore through me, wrenching a scream from deep within. The sound was more animalistic than human, and I’d no idea I could emit such a terrible, feral noise. Tears streamed down my face and dripped into my mouth, salty and warm.
“Thomas!” Everything became hot and sticky, though shudders simultaneously racked my body. Fingers slick with blood gripped mine. “Thomas,” I said again, more softly.
“Wadsworth”—Thomas’s voice was strained—“stay here. Stay here with me.”
“I’m not… going… anywhere.” There was nowhere in the entire world I’d rather be. Though the part of me not consumed by the searing heat in my leg worried I’d just told another lie… that wishing to or not, I might leave Thomas Cresswell yet. I wanted to cry or laugh out, but the pain was overwhelming. Blessedly, bits of darkness sneaked in, dulling some of my agony.
My medical deductions were slow in coming, but in and out of the blackness throbbing through me, I became aware that I was dying. That warm sensation rushing down my stocking was blood. And there was a lot of it. Too much for a person to lose.
“Thomas…” My voice was barely a whisper, but he heard me. He gripped my hand tighter, and leaned in. “Don’t leave me.”
“Never.” Something dripped onto my face, but I was too tired to open my eyes. My head felt as if I’d swallowed too much champagne too quickly and little white stars clustered around the edge of my vision. The more warmth I lay in, the colder my body became.
It seemed like sweet justice, that a blade would be the end of me.
“Wadsworth…” Thomas sounded as if someone held a knife to his throat, but the danger must be gone. The thought comforted me as I drifted off to sleep. A hand clapped my cheeks, slowly at first, then more steady. It should have stung, but I felt too far away. A beautiful dream was beginning—one where Thomas and I were waltzing around a ballroom that reminded me of a star. Everything was white and pure and smelled of peonies and magic.
“Audrey Rose! Look at me.” Thomas’s face came into view, hovering above mine. He swore like the Devil, but in this moment he might have been an angel sent to guide me somewhere. His lips, no longer tinged blue, were moving, but sounds drowned out as waves of white and black crashed around my vision. I stared into his wide eyes. He was alive. He was whole. Death was not victorious. The thought carried me further into a peaceful nothingness.
Words melted into one another and I could no sooner listen to Thomas than I could command my wound to stop bleeding. My pulse was a quiet refrain as the beat slowed. Warmth flowed freely around my body, dragging me further and further toward the promise of a blissful rest. I now had two pulses, each warring with the other. One in my leg and one in my chest. Both seemed to fade the more they fought. Which was all right by me; I wanted to drift off and succumb to the darkness. It was much more pleasant than the wild pain unleashing itself upon me. I wanted to fall back into that wonderful dream where we could dance amongst the stars.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
One moment there was euphoric calm, an acceptance of release; the next there was a pressure on my leg, heavy and uncomfortable. It jolted me from that serenity. I wanted to shriek again, to make the suffering go away, but I was too tired. I wriggled away from the pain, blinking up at whoever was torturing me, but my lids grew heavier, more unwilling to obey even as the beast of agony ripped into my body again and again.
The pressure mounted and I finally managed to scream until I tasted blood in the back of my throat. Part of me knew I had to fight as viciously, had to try to live, if only to shove off the person inflicting the pain on my leg. I barreled my focus and squinted through the impending dark. Thomas’s hands were a vice on my bare thigh, tears dripping down his face onto mine. I had the impression of him shouting orders to someone nearby, though I couldn’t hear them or be sure. I was too fixated on his tears. In my mind I reached up to wipe them away, though it must have been another dream.
I love you, I thought, rallying against the blackness. More than all the stars in the universe. In this life and ever after. I love you.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Thump.
I battled and raged with everything I had for a final glimpse of my dearest Thomas Cresswell, but the darkness descended like a vengeful army and claimed me for good.
FORTY
FAREWELL
INFIRMARY
RMS ETRURIA
9 JANUARY 1889
Light streamed in from a window, pulling me from sleep. Gulls called to one another and muffled voices joined in from somewhere outside. The sharp scent of antiseptic made my stomach flip, taking the remainder of my peace. I blinked until the blurriness subsided. Cots and small tables came into view—I was in an infirmary.
I gasped when Thomas leaned forward, his chair creaking as he shifted his weight. I hadn’t seen him sitting there, and now that I was looking, he appeared truly wretched. Dark circles marred the skin under his eyes, his face paler than I’d ever seen it before. There was an aura of hollowness to him that made gooseflesh rise on my arms.
I wondered if he’d seen a ghost.
He reached over, clasping my hand in his, eyes red rimmed. “I thought…” He gripped my hand tighter. “I thought I’d lost you for good, Wadsworth. What in the bloody hell were you thinking?”
Bits and pieces came back, though it all seemed too foggy to be real. “What happened?”
