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“Are you ready?” he asked. I nodded, too afraid to say anything more. I couldn’t believe we were running away. Wrong and right mingled together until I was no longer certain which emotion was the dominant one. He seemed to feel the same. He jerked his chin in an impression of a nod, then indicated the back exit. “Let’s hurry. We don’t want—”
“Wait!”
Daciana and Ileana raced down the stairs, nearly tripping in their haste to reach us.
“We’ve found it!” Daciana said, panting. “We know where he’s heading.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
SATAN’S COMPANIONS
GRANDMAMA’S MAIN PARLOR
FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY
8 FEBRUARY 1889
“Who?” Thomas asked, setting our trunks down. “Father? I believe even the Vatican knows where Father’s heading. He’s made it abundantly clear.”
“Jack the Ripper.” Ileana seemed slightly more reserved in her judgment. “We’re almost certain,” she amended. “The clues seem to point to a certain city. Here.”
She handed me one of Nathaniel’s journals, open to a page with yet another quote. I read it, immediately recognizing it as another passage from Frankenstein. My shoulders slumped as I read aloud.
“‘I beheld a stream of fire issue from an old and beautiful oak which stood about twenty yards from our house; and so soon as the dazzling light vanished, the oak had disappeared, and nothing remained but a blasted stump. When we visited it the next morning, we found the tree shattered in a singular manner. It was not splintered by the shock, but entirely reduced to thin ribbons of wood. I never beheld anything so utterly destroyed.’”
I gave the journal to Thomas. He raised a brow. “You’ve divined a location based on this?” His tone was skeptical. “Perhaps you ought to pursue fortune-telling. I know just the carnival in need of those services. Maybe you’ll convince the world that vampires, witches, and demons do roam the earth.”
Ileana and Daciana shared a long look, one that spoke of shared secrets. I narrowed my eyes. What did they know of vampires and other legends that made them uncomfortable? They hadn’t seemed scared of folklore back in Romania. Finally, Daciana turned our way, handing another journal over. “Don’t be too impressed with us yet. Here’s this.”
“‘Satan had his companions, fellow devils, to admire and encourage him, but I am solitary and abhorred.’” Another quote from our favorite gothic novel. The underlined bits didn’t seem worth noting before, and, frankly, I wasn’t as excited as Daciana and Ileana appeared to be. If anything, the heavy weight of defeat settled like a royal mantle around my shoulders.
I chose my next words carefully. “This is… interesting, but I’m afraid my brother was rather enthralled with this novel. He often quoted it.”
“At first, we also feared it was nothing, but look closer,” Daciana urged, handing over another journal. “Read this next.”
I was enchanted by the appearance of the hut; here the snow and rain could not penetrate; the ground was dry; and it presented to me then as exquisite and divine a retreat as Pandemonium appeared to the demons of hell after their sufferings in the lake of fire… It was noon when I awoke, and allured by the warmth of the sun, which shone brightly on the white ground, I determined to recommence my travels.
I glanced up at Daciana’s hopeful expression, wishing I could muster the same level of enthusiasm. I didn’t want to be rude, but we were wasting the last of our moments on nonsense. Thomas and I needed to sneak away before it was too late. “Fire and traveling through snow… I’m afraid I don’t see the connection.”
Daciana turned to her brother. “And you?”
“Demons holidaying in a city of fire?” he asked, sounding annoyed. “Isn’t that what Hell is? Or perhaps it’s a quaint description of their summer home.”
She grabbed the journal back, then motioned to Ileana to set them down in the order in which we’d read them. Like a professor teaching unruly students, she marched over to them, one by one, pointing out the significance. “Look at the dates of each. Now, when read in order, the underlined passages refer to people traveling to a place. Where was there a great fire in this country? What also has ‘white’ as a nickname now?”
“A great fire? How should I—” Understanding dawned. I’d read an article in the paper this week about Olmsted’s contribution to the fairgrounds in Illinois. How magnificent and enchanting they were. The White City. The Great Fire. Thomas and I exchanged our first hopeful look in days. I shifted my attention back to Daciana, finally sharing her and Ileana’s excitement. “Chicago. The Ripper is heading to the World’s Columbian Exposition.”
Of course. It had been the talk of the world for months—a place where scientific invention and industry could shine and draw hundreds of thousands of visitors. There would be so many people wandering around, it would be—
A horrible realization sank in, the thrill extinguishing as quickly as it had come. Whoever brutalized and stalked the gaslit streets of London was about to unleash more terror in a new city. He was done with New York for now. His sights were set on an even bigger stage. One where victims could be snatched away easily. The World’s Fair would prove a most intriguing place for murder and mayhem.
With a heavy heart, I headed for the door. “I’ll tell Uncle to purchase tickets for Chicago.”
Thomas nodded. “Hurry. We don’t want to run into my father and Miss Whitehall. Though it would be rather satisfying to watch them from the window of our departing train.”
“No. Don’t even think such foolish nonsense.” Daciana’s tone brooked no arguments. “I will go to the ship and tell Father you’re right behind me. It’ll give you some time to flee without him coming straightaway. You two need to be on the next train to Chicago or you won’t be leaving New York of your own free will. And you cannot run into Father or he will hunt you down and drag you back.”
“Bring this with you.” Grandmama emerged from her parlor and nodded to the butler. He darted forward and handed Daciana a telegram. “It’s for your father.”
