Chapter Eleven
“Hello, old friend.”
Jeremiah Black glanced up from the mechanical bird he’d been working on at his workbench and peered through the gloomy light filtering into his workshop from the window.
He squinted his eyes trying to place the man who was now standing in the doorway.
His voice sounded oddly familiar, but Jeremiah was drawing a blank.
Not that that was unusual, given his eyesight had started failing him in recent years, as had his memory.
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Jeremiah asked.
“Indeed, you do!” The man clapped his hands together, the corner of his mouth twisting into a smile. “Though it’s been a very long time since we last saw each other. Fifteen years and two days, precisely.”
It took Jeremiah a moment to process that bit of information, and then when he did, he gulped as sweat began to bead on his forehead. “Baron Denton? Is that you?”
“Odd you should think that.”
“But… it can’t be… You’re meant to be l-locked up in Broadmoor… What’s going on here?” Jeremiah spluttered. “I don’t understand it…”
Slowly, the man made his way over to Jeremiah, the smile still firmly affixed to his face. It was truly the smile of a madman, and Jeremiah knew he should try to run, but he was too old now to even jog, let alone run.
“You, Mr. Black, are going to play a very important role in my new magic show.”
Jeremiah felt some perspiration begin to run down his cheek as his heart began to beat madly. “I’m a bit old now to be part of any magic show. I think you’d be best finding someone else to assist you, Baron.”
“But you’re the only one who can help me, I’m afraid. You see, I need you involved, so she gets involved.”
Jeremiah blinked, his mind desperately trying to grasp what this man wanted. “Who is ‘she’?”
“Why, Jack, of course,” the man crooned. “She must pay for her parents’ sins.”
Terror pierced Jeremiah’s heart. Not for himself, but for his goddaughter. “She died in the same fire as her father, hadn’t you heard?”
“I thought so too, for many years after the fact, but I’ve recently learned she’s very much alive. And it’s perfect timing too, given the anniversary of her parents’ deaths. But don’t worry; I shall see she atones for her parents’ actions and that she’s returned to the grave, where she belongs.”
“You leave her alone, you bastard!” Jeremiah stood, his legs shaking, both from his fear and his old age, but nevertheless, he raised his chin and stood his ground. “She had nothing to do with any of it, you hear! Nothing! She lost everything because of you—”
“I was the one who lost everything!” The man roared, his smile giving way to fury as he pounded his fist on the bench. “She must and will pay for her parents’ actions!”
“She’s an innocent!” Jeremiah grabbed at his bird and flung it at the baron, though he easily dodged it, the contraption crashing into the wall behind before landing with a hollow thud on the wooden floor. The man laughed. A cackle that sent a chill down Jeremiah’s spine. “You leave her alone!”
“You always were a sentimental old fool, believing that girl could do no wrong.”
“How could she have done you wrong? She was only a little girl when you took her mother away from her.”
“I never took away her mother from anyone,” the man replied.
“Her father, yes, but not her mother. In any event, her family caused the destruction of mine, and I intend to repay the debt in full. Starting with you and ending with her, and then finally, justice will prevail and I in turn will be known as the great magician to ever grace London.”
“‘Magician’?” Jeremiah spat out, raising his chin in defiance. “You were never an actual magician, Baron, only someone who liked to pretend you were.”
“In that you’re wrong, Mr. Black. Already, my first illusion is the talk of the city.”
Jeremiah desperately gripped the edge of the bench, his old knuckles white. “Oh, my God… That girl in the alley killed by using one of James’s tricks? That was you?”
The baron bowed in a flourish. “It was. And shame on you… You always said I was never as good at magic as Jack was. Well, I’ve certainly proved you wrong, haven’t I?”
“Oh, my God, you aren’t the baron…” A dawning recognition filled him. “But you’re meant to be dead…”
“It seems I’m back from the grave, doesn’t it?” He casually walked over to where Jeremiah was hunching over against the bench, barely able to stand. “But don’t worry. Jack will take my place there very shortly.”
“She’s too smart to fall for any of your traps. You were good as a magician, but you were never the magician she is, and you never will be!”
The man’s nostrils flared, and his upper lip curled. “In that, old man, you are wrong. Dead wrong.”
Jeremiah only just caught sight of metal flashing down in an arc towards him, before he felt the tip of a blade piercing his chest. And as he fell forward and heard the soft chuckle of a dead man fill his ears, he prayed more earnestly than he ever had, not for his own life, but for that of his goddaughter.
May heaven help her against this evil who’d risen from the grave.