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“Agatha, I… I don’t feel well.”
“Oh!” Agatha clutched my arm, keeping me from tumbling down into darkness and back down the stairs. “The fumes from the cleanser might not agree with you. Dr. Holmes is still perfecting the formula.” She pointed to her nose. “Cotton. I almost forgot.” She tied a scarf about her face. “Not everyone has a reaction to it, but I’m pretty sensitive to most strong scents. That’s why Dr. Holmes makes me remember the cotton. I won’t be helpful to him if I get ill.”
I staggered a few steps farther, knees shaking. This was no cleanser. At least none that I’d ever encountered. “Why doesn’t he give them to his patrons?”
“He doesn’t run a charity, miss. If he handed out cotton to everyone who rented a room here, he’d be out of money. Plus, this doesn’t happen with everyone. He said he only cleans the corridors like this once in a while. Today seems to be one of those rare occasions.”
She left me and swiftly moved forward, pausing at the end of the corridor, opening doors that I swore were bricked up. I fell against the wall, fighting the darkness creeping into the corners of my vision. I needed to get out of this place. Immediately. My sense of self-preservation screeched wildly to hurry, but whatever he was poisoning me with worked fast.
With a final shove, I stumbled a few feet back toward the stairs, head spinning as a giant portrait loomed before me. It seemed as if the eyes followed me as I collapsed to the floor, trying desperately to crawl back the way we’d come. I heard the bones in my knees crack, the pain blinding in its fury. Two hands lifted me up.
“Now, now, Miss Wadsworth,” a cool voice said. “Stop fighting me.”
I feebly thought of my blade sheathed at my thigh. It was utterly useless to me now. All my preparations, my certainty. Gone.
“It’s time you met your true match.”
His voice was the last thing that tormented me before I plunged into blackness.
FORTY-SIX
CAPTIVITY: NIGHT ONE
MURDER CASTLE
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
16 FEBRUARY 1889
My throat felt like hot coals had been shoved down it. My eyes leaked tears as if in mourning.
It was as though my body understood before I did.
The devil had come to claim me.
And I would soon die.
A hissing from somewhere above stole into the room, robbing me of consciousness.
Sleep, deep and endless. A blessing hidden inside the curse.
FORTY-SEVEN
CAPTIVITY: NIGHT TWO
MURDER CASTLE
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
17 FEBRUARY 1889
Darkness greeted me as I cracked my lids. Oppressive like summer heat. I stirred, desperate to rouse from unnatural sleep. For a moment, I couldn’t recall where I was. Then fragments of memory came back. Before I sat up, I heard the creaking of a door. A slice of yellow light spilled like entrails across the floor. I squeezed my eyes shut.
Counted my breaths.
This was a nightmare. Like the ones that had haunted me these past months. A trick of the mind. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.
I opened my eyes, only to scream.
