Alex Grecian - Devil's Workshop

“Shouldn’t you be worried?”

“Worried about what, love?”

“They never caught Saucy Jack.”

“You don’t scare me. I know a good man when I see one, and you ain’t no Saucy Jack. And you ain’t gonna bargain me down.”

“I thank you,” he said.

“For what?” she said. “I ain’t done nothin’. Not yet, at least.”

“For the marvelous birthday gift you’ve bestowed. You have shown me something I did not know until this very moment. I suspected it, but I didn’t realize it for a certainty. And I am a changed man.”

“Your birthday? Well, bless you, but the price ain’t changed none, birthday or no birthday. I got my standards.”

“And I’m sure they’re very high indeed, but I regret to inform you that I cannot afford the pleasure of your company this fine evening. Still, I believe you have earned this.”

He pressed the sixpence coin into her eager hand and walked away from her. He heard her calling to him, anxious to get more money from him, but he didn’t turn around. The thrill had left his bones. He had no business to conduct upon her well-worn body. No business of the kind she expected and no business of the kind he preferred.

Jack really was a changed man. A year or more of torture had given him new ideas about the world.

He was keen to begin testing those ideas.

The Devil marched off with a spring in his step, and the woman, her sixpence coin clutched tight in her fist, hurried into the Whistle and Flute. She remained blissfully ignorant about the thing she had met in the street that evening and never knew how lucky she was to be alive.

Can I push? I want to push.”

“Please wait a moment, Claire. Control your breathing and be calm.”

Kingsley had set out his instruments on the wash table next to the door, blocking them from Claire’s view with his body. He thought it probable that she had never seen a pair of forceps and he didn’t want to frighten her. He took a small stack of flannels from his bag and set them beside the forceps. He picked up a small glass vial, uncorked it, and sprinkled a few drops of clear liquid onto the cloth. He turned and held the cloth up in front of Claire.

“I’m going to place this near your nose and mouth for a moment. It’s ether. We talked about this before, remember?”

“Yes. Please do.”

He held it up to her face and she breathed in slowly. When he removed it, she appeared to be more relaxed.

“Good,” he said. “That will help with the pain.”

He set the rapidly drying flannel back on the table, separate from the clean cloths. He didn’t want to get them mixed up. He went back around the end of the bed and helped Claire position herself more comfortably.

“Is that better?”

“Yes,” she said. “Thank you. Will there be a lot more pain?”

“Every woman is different, my dear. You’ll be fine.”

“Then I can push?”

“It’s time.”

He averted his eyes as she bore down. A moment later, she relaxed again, gasped, and began to pant quietly.

“Good,” Kingsley said. “You’re doing very well, Claire.”

“I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to stop.”

“I’m afraid that isn’t an option. But the baby’s going to be here soon enough. Don’t worry.”

“I don’t want the baby.”

“Of course you do. You may push again when you’re ready.”

“I’m going to stop.”

“Do you require more ether?”

“No.”

“Then let’s get ready to push.”

“Walter doesn’t want a baby.”

“Nonsense.”

“He doesn’t. I can see it in him. He disappears at night.”

“He loves you. And he loves your baby. Now I want you to stop talking about Walter and concentrate on this task right now. You’re in the middle of a very difficult job and you needn’t distract yourself with worry.”

“I think it’s his own father. Arthur Day wasn’t good at being a father, and Walter thinks-”

“Few of us are good at being fathers. But we try. And eventually our children grow into men and women who make their own mistakes and blame us for them. It’s the way of the world.”

“He’s so unhappy.”

“He’s nervous. I’ve seen this many times. He’ll be fine. And you’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I do. Now I want you to push again.”

“What if-”

“Claire. Push now.”

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and pushed.

Ican’t feel my leg anymore. It’s gone numb.”

“That might be for the best, Walter Day.”

“Am I bleeding to death?”

“Yes,” Jack said. “But very slowly.”

“Can you stop the bleeding?”

“Now why would I do that?”

“If I die, you won’t be able to talk to me anymore.”

“But of course I will. You just won’t be able to talk back.”

“Will you take the hood off again? It’s hot and it’s hard to breathe.”

The hood was lifted off and Day felt cool air against his face.

“It really is beastly, this hood,” Jack said. “One forgets one is a man under there.”

“I thought you said you were a god, not a man.”

“I was speaking of you.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d come back. Where do you go?”

“I’ve had several interesting experiences today. Any experience is interesting after a year or so under that hood, and I suppose I’m only doing my best to make the most out of life.”

“Did you kill someone?”

The shape in the dark was quiet for a long moment.

“You know, I don’t think I have. Aside from that fellow in the cell next to yours, of course, but that was an accident. I got overexcited. Yes, aside from him, I’ve killed no one. That might be the most interesting thing about today. After all, it’s what I’m known for. Killing. That’s not what I call it. It’s a different thing for me. But your senses are not so refined as mine. Killing is the only reason you’ve ever heard of me and the only thing you’re aware that I’ve ever done. And yet, here I am, a free man after all this time, and I’ve been. . well, I’ve practically been an upstanding citizen, haven’t I?”

“Did you hurt anyone else?”

“Oh, well, of course. Quite a lot of hurting. But it’s not the same thing as killing, is it? Not at all.”

“Maybe you’re done killing. Maybe you won’t kill anyone again. Maybe the Karstphanomen were correct and what they did has changed you.”

Jack laughed, a deep rich baritone.

“They changed me, all right. But I don’t think they’ll appreciate their work when I’m done. And please, Walter Day, rest assured, I will most certainly kill someone. More than one. The day is not yet over.”

There was another pause in the conversation and Day could hear Jack breathing heavily, as if he had run through the tunnels and had not yet caught his breath. Day could feel the sharp end of the cufflink pressed against his palm. He hoped Jack had not noticed that Walter’s cuff was loose. The tiny pick was difficult to hold on to, and Day was having trouble maneuvering. He wished he’d been quicker and wondered if it was too late. And he was tired of wishing and wondering and he was tired of being frightened.

“Then do it,” Day said. “Get it over with. I’ve no interest in being your plaything.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. I wasn’t talking about you. You’re terribly self-absorbed, Walter Day.”

“We both know you’re not going to let me go.”

“Do you actually want me to transform you? To kill you? You seem to be goading me.”