Chapter 28
London, England
The moon was high overhead, lighting the path as Renfield moved quickly through the night.
Glee spilled through each step, and a laugh escaped his throat.
He stopped suddenly, looking over his shoulder at the empty field around him, searching the shadows of the treeline for any sign of movement, listening for the crunch of footsteps.
All he heard was the hush of the countryside.
Satisfied that none had yet realized his escape from the asylum, Renfield carried on hobbling down the uneven footpath.
“I am coming, master,” he murmured, his breath coming out in a fog before his face. Beyond the tangle of trees along the path, the jagged silhouette of Carfax Abbey rose into the night. “Must obey. All will be well.”
A trembling laugh escaped him.
“All will be well,” he repeated, his voice lilting like a hymn as he stumbled through the shadows of the night.
As he approached the front door of the empty property, he paused, staring up at the stone walls of the abbey. With a deep breath, he pushed the heavy door open.
A groan cut through the quiet night, and he gave one last look over his shoulder to be sure he was alone. The master would not be pleased if he’d been followed here.
The wind howled, swaying the branches of the trees and making the shadows dance along the grass.
“All will be well,” Renfield whispered, scuttering inside the abbey.
He walked down the stone hallway, fumbling in the darkness with not a single light to guide him. He tripped, falling to his knees, and shouted at the ground for betraying him, beating his fists upon the stone in protest.
Eventually, his anger eased, his breath ragged. Then a smile came to his lips.
“The master is near,” he said softly.
Renfield set down the satchel he’d made from his yellowed pillowcase, unwrapping it like a Christmas present.
One by one, he pulled out the small bodies, each creature stiff with death, and laid them in a row.
He placed his palms on the cold stone and lowered himself until his lips nearly touched the floor, as though he were kneeling in prayer.
He had no regard for the layer of filth that coated each stone.
“Master is coming,” he whispered. “All will be well. Master is coming.”