Morvicti Blood (A Morvicti Novel Book 1) (28 page)

“Do you know what century this is?” Her sister grinned. “Oh fine, I’ll be quick. I promise.” She headed to her room.

Jessenia checked the security cameras. A man wearing a chauffer’s cap stood at the door. She reached to unlock it, but then paused. Something in the back of her mind made her hesitate.

She clicked on the microphone. “Hello. May I help you?”

“Yes, my lady. I am here to drive Duchess Turellek and her sisters to their private plane.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Would you mind holding up your palms to the camera, sir? It’s just above the door.”

“I don’t mind at all, my lady. We can’t be too careful in these terrible times.” He smiled.

She could see his palms had the faint violet hue. He was Morvicti.

“Your husband commanded me to hurry.”

“That sounds like him.” She smiled and unlocked the door. “Do come in.”

“Thank you, Duchess. May I get your bags?”

“Yes. Thank you. My sisters have luggage as well. I hope that won’t be too much trouble for you.”

“No trouble at all. In fact, this is my honor.”

She turned and saw him lock the door, which seemed strange to her.

“As I said before, Duchess, we can’t be too careful in these terrible times. While I’m collecting your bags I think it would be best to keep the door locked.”

“Of course.” She reached into her purse and retrieved a cigarette. Her husband didn’t like her vice, but a few drags never failed to calm her nerves.

“May I?” he asked, pulling out a lighter from his coat.

She nodded.

He lit her cigarette.

“Thank you. My sisters’ rooms are to the left. Mine is to the right.”

He smiled and went to the back of the flat.

She walked out onto the balcony to get one last look at London and to enjoy her cigarette. Like both her sisters, she loved visiting this city. Of the homes she and her husband had around the globe, this was one of her favorites. New York and Sydney were close contenders. But Istanbul would always top the list. It was home. She had been born there, like her husband.

Some thought their marriage would never last. He was so much older than her. But she loved him with all her heart. The years had taken their toll on him. Soon, he would slumber. They had tried so hard to conceive, but had not been successful, like so many Morvicti. She would be alone for a time. Until he rose. And then they could try again.

Finishing her cigarette, she wondered what was taking so long. She believed her sisters must have had more to pack than they had admitted.

She walked into Jadzia’s room. Her sister’s bag was still open and only half full. Clothes were piled high. “Jadzia, where are you?” She stepped into her bathroom. “We need to hur—”

Jadzia’s head rested on the counter; her eyes were open wide in horror. Her mutilated body was on the tiled floor, covered in her blood.

Before she could react, Jessenia heard Judith scream.

She ran, grabbing a lamp off a table and ripping its cord from the socket.
The driver is The Ripper. I let him in.

Running through Judith’s bedroom doors, Jessenia realized she was too late. Her sister’s head was on the pillow but her body was on the floor.

The beast grabbed her from behind and placed his hand over her mouth. She tried to hit him with the lamp but he wrestled it out of her hand. It fell to the floor along with any hope she had of surviving.

“Anxious little bitch, aren’t you, Duchess?” He dragged the flat edge of the knife over her throat. “Don’t worry, it’s your turn.”

CHAPTER 50

7:45 PM

Keeping hold of his sister, Austin read The Ripper’s letter that had been taped to the door of her flat.

Dearest Angelique,

Although we’ve never met, my heart belongs to you.

You may not believe this, but I have lifted a burden off of your shoulders by taking Michael away. Compared to us, he is nothing. Less than nothing.

I realize you may have misguided feelings for him, so I have made sure he is cared for. You need not be concerned about him. Just follow my instructions and he will remain safe.

I know that this revelation is new to you. So I will prove my devotion by helping you see the truth.

Take this key. Go to Durward Street. It is nine miles from your flat so it should take you no time at all to drive there. I’ll expect you no later than half past eight.

You’ll find a green metal structure consisting of four storage units on Durward.

Mine is number four.

More to come, dearest love. More to come.

Forever yours,

Jack

Austin’s jaw tightened. The serial killer had his best friend and was trying to seduce his sister. “He’s insane.”

All the color had drained from Angelique’s face. “And he has my husband. We’ve got to find him.”

“I’m taking you back to Doc’s house.”

“The hell you are.” She stepped back, and he could see the determination in her eyes. “There’s no time, Austin. It’s ten to eight. I already looked up the directions to Durward while you were reading the letter.” She passed him Wilson’s phone. “We have to go now.”

The estimated time for the trip was on the screen. Thirty-two minutes.

Damn, she’s right.
“Sis, you will follow my instructions when we get there. No questions. Understand?”

“Okay. Let’s just go. Now.”

He nodded, and they ran down the stairs to the car.

Once they were inside, he handed the mobile phone back to her. “Call Doc and let him know where we’re going.” He hit the gas, heading for the A4.

“Hello,” Doc Wilson answered through the cell’s speaker.

“Thomas, this is Angelique.”

“Are you safe?” he asked.

“We are,” Austin answered. “But we have a problem. The Ripper has Angelique’s husband, Doc.”

“Damn.”

“There was a letter from him taped to Angelique’s door with instructions for us to follow. If we don’t, Michael will be in jeopardy.”

“We just have to do as he says, Thomas,” Angelique said, her hands trembling.

“Maybe I can help. What were the instructions on the letter?”

“To go to Durward Street,” Austin answered. “We’re on our way there now. There was a key with the letter. It is supposed to open a storage unit there.”

“I remember reading something about that street in one of the articles this morning.” They heard the rustling of papers. “Yes, here it is. Durward Street was once called Buck’s Row where the original Ripper’s first murder occurred. I wonder if the monster wants to take you on a trip down his memory lane. What else did the letter say?”

Angelique recited it to him from memory.

“Please be careful. The Ripper definitely has an agenda, and you seem to be at the center of it. I wish we could call the police, but that isn’t possible until we know how Commissioner Poole fits into this mess.”

“Plus there is still an APW out on Austin.” Angelique sighed. “We must deal with this on our own.”

“You are not alone. I’ll do whatever I can to help you from here. If I am right and The Ripper is bent on you visiting the murder locations of 1888, I will see what else I can find that might give us an advantage.” Dr. Wilson sounded determined, and that seemed to bolster Angelique’s hope. “Do you still have those weapons you retrieved from the masked attackers?”

“We do,” Austin answered.

“Excellent. Please be careful. It’s not just this killer you need to be worried about. There are powerful forces at work. After you two left, I did a little digging. I decided to review the online records for the buildings on Murphy Street. Turns out that IBC owns several.”

“IBC again,” Angelique said.

“We know that Walt Turner was in charge of a pool of donors for the mummy exhibit at the museum and that he worked for IBC. Coincidence? I don’t think so. I’m a scientist. I don’t believe in coincidences.”

Though they still didn’t have any solid answers, with Doc Wilson on their side they were getting closer to finding the connections. “Doc, keep digging. We need your help.”

“And I need yours, too, Austin. Come back safe.” There was a brief pause and then a chuckle. “Gita’s stew will be waiting.” Doc was obviously trying to lighten the mood to the terrible situation they were in. “She’s as anxious as I am for you to return. Maybe more.”

“We’re anxious to get back, too. Thank you for everything.” Angelique ended the call.

Every mile they drove she called out how much time they had left.

When they turned onto Northumberland, they saw flashing lights ahead.

“Austin?”

“I see them.”

“What if it’s a road block? What if someone recognizes you?”

“It isn’t,” he said, realizing it was just a minor wreck. He had to slow, as the traffic was funneling into one lane, but they quickly got around it.

When they arrived at Durward Street, he pulled over and cut the engine. He looked every direction, including the windows and rooftops of the surrounding buildings, but spotted no one.

“There’s the storage building.” Angelique’s fingers were white from gripping the gun. “It’s fifteen past eight, Austin.”

“Give me the key, Sis.”

She did.

“You stay here.”

“Okay, unless you need my back up.” She didn’t lack courage. It was clear she would do anything to find Michael no matter how terrifying.

He got out of the car, scanned the area again.

Not a soul anywhere.

As he walked toward the storage building, he prayed Michael was inside, alive and well, though he feared that would not be the case.

What game was The Ripper playing? The killer had said Michael would remain safe if his instructions were followed. Was that a lie or the truth? The tone of The Ripper’s letter didn’t give him much hope. It was obvious the bastard wanted Angelique, so what reason would he have to keep Michael alive?

The numbers to each unit were painted in white on the metal roll-up doors.

He inserted the key into the lock of number four.

He lifted up the screeching metal door, expecting to see Michael’s body. Thankfully, he didn’t.

The only thing in the unit was a small package. He gingerly lifted the box, checking its weight. Too light for an explosive. Not wanting to remain here any longer than necessary, he tucked it under his arm and headed back to Angelique.

He got in the car, placing the package on the console between them. He saw the disappointment on her face that he hadn’t found Michael. “Don’t lose hope. We’ll find him. Now, let’s get out of here.” He drove back onto the street.

She grabbed the box.

“Don’t open it,” he said, recalling how Doc had told them about the two fingers that had arrived at his home.

“It might be a clue to where Michael is.”

“Just let me get more distance between us and Durward Street.” He could not risk his sister seeing Michael’s severed finger. When he pulled the car over a few blocks away on another street, he turned to Angelique. “Hand me the box.”

She stared at it. “No.”

“Angelique, we don’t know what is inside. I think you better let me check it out first.”

“We’re doing this together. This is my husband we’re talking about.”

“I know. That’s why I want to open it first. You’re too close to the problem.”

“And you’re not? He’s your best friend. You took a bullet for him. I can do this.”

He was getting nowhere with her. “You win. We’ll do this together.”

They opened the package. It didn’t contain a finger but another body part in a plastic bag packed in dry ice.

Angelique gasped. “Please don’t let that be Michael’s ear.”

He took the box from her. “Let me turn the light on, Sis, so we can get a better look.”

She held her breath.

“This isn’t Michael’s ear. I’m certain this belonged to Walt Turner.”

She peered into the box. “Thank God, you’re right. This isn’t Michael’s ear.” Tears of relief fell from her eyes. “We’ve got to find him. We’ve just got to find him.”

Austin noticed something else in the box. Angelique grabbed the envelope before he could and tore it open. “There’s a letter, a print out of a newspaper clipping, and insurance paperwork.” She started reading the letter aloud.

Dear Angelique,

I’m so happy you completed my first task. Congratulations.