Chapter 3

It’s been a month since Emily had shown up on his doorstep. While the young woman seemed to have information about the murders that were not in the papers and somehow predicted things before the papers reported them he was still skeptical. Perhaps she was actually speaking with the dead or perhaps she just had someone in the police giving her information.

The thought had been in his mind for a while now. It’s been years since his wife and daughter were taken. He never received a ransom request. Whoever took them didn’t want money, so they were unlikely to still be alive. If Emily could truly speak with the dead, then perhaps he could finally find the one responsible.

She’s laying out her cards on the living room floor. He observes her for a bit. She said it helped her get additional insight into things. Waste of time in his opinion.

“How do they find you?” He asks” These spirits.”

“They just do.” She looks at him over her shoulder, loose hair flowing down her back.” You still don’t believe me.”

She says it as a statement. He sits down, the photo held in his hands.

“No, not entirely. Have you ever tried to reach out to them?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Well, what if you need to talk to them?”

“I don’t know.” She seems frightened.” These things just happen. I don’t really have any control over it.”

“Have you ever tried to take control?”

“I don’t know if I can, to be honest.”

“Well, let’s put that to the test shall we?” He extends the photograph of Anna and Annabel.

“Who are they?”

“Do you need to know that to reach out?”

“No. I suppose not, but I don’t even know if I can.”

She takes the photo with great hesitation and looks at it for a long time.

“Anything?”

“No. Nothing.”

He tries to keep his disappointment in check. The girl might just be insane and that would make him a fool, who got tricked by her delusions.

“Wait.”

He looks at her, still sitting on the floor, one hand hovering over the photo.

“I feel something.”

She stands to her feet looking almost panicked. Albert rises to his feel with anticipation. Emily closes her eyes, her head tilts back a little.

“Something is there.” her lips move slowly.

Her face contorts, body twisting, arms moving as if to protect herself.

“No. Something is wrong! They’re not dead! There’s something else. Something is coming!”

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She creams as if in pain and begins to lean back as if falling.

“Emily!”

She doesn’t react, leaning back so much it looks like she might snap. He walks closer and calls her name but she doesn’t react. The view of her legs is no longer shielded by the table and he stops ­– her feet are not on the ground. Slowly she is rising higher above the floor. She snaps back forward, head hanging low, hair falling over her face.

“Emily!” he yells not sure what else to do. “ You said they were alive. Where are they?”

Her eyes shoot open but they have completely rolled back into her head. She looks at him and there is an unnaturally wide grin on her face.

“Like you care?” the tone of her voice is different more guttural and growling. “ Like you cared about poor lonely Anna when you fucked all those women. Like you cared about Annabel when you murdered all those children. Like you cared about anything but yourself when you raped and murdered and plundered halfway across India.”

He feels an invisible force push him against the wall. A sense of terror begins to overwhelm him but he quickly forces it down.

“Where are they?” he demands.

Emily releases in a hissing sound that doesn’t sound human.

“Where are they? Who has them?” he walks towards her, grips her arms, and stares her in the eyes.

“You’ll never see them again.” There is nothing but pure malice in every word.” They suffer each day knowing they are suffering because of you. Among the rats and spiders, among the whores and filth. Raped by passing men each and every day. All because of you.”

He hits her across the face, anger pulsing in his veins from every word. Emily falls to the ground and lies there laughing manically.

“You’ll never get them back.” She hisses

He hits her again. There is blood on his palm, he takes a step back. Her lip is bleeding she looks terrified and confused. Emily looks at him with wide eyes, tears start streaming down her face. She scrambles to her feet, backing away from him.

“Emily, I’m sorry.” He begins.

She runs out of the room, out the front door, out into the night without so much as a glance back.

He sat in the living room for a long time pondering over what had happened. Emily couldn’t have known those things unless she could truly speak to the dead. There was no doubt now.

“Where’s Emily? Asked Gertrude.

“She went out.”

“In this weather? At this time of night?”

It was raining just like the day she first came to this house. Now she was out there alone in the rain in the streets of London and so was Jack. Albert looked at the photograph of his wife and daughter. They were gone. Perhaps what Emily said was true and they were still alive somewhere but it was clear they weren’t in London. Probably sold to slavery in some distant country or perhaps it was all lies from the resentful dead. Even if they were alive he would never find them, even if he searched the entire world. His life was probably not going to last long enough to find them. Deep down Albert had always thought his wife and daughter were already dead. But what about Emily? She was a stranger, yet if her photo ended up in tomorrow's paper as the latest victim of Jack, could he really feel indifferent about it? Getting to his feet he grabbed his coat and headed out the door.

Emily sat on the steps of the church. Rain had soaked her down to the last thread but she didn’t really care. It seemed that no matter how many times she tried her feet would stop one step away from the top. She couldn’t make it all the way to the door. It was the feeling that she would not be welcomed that always held her back in the end. In the end, it didn’t matter if it was a church or not – it seemed that she wasn’t welcome anywhere. So she sat there on the steps of the church, crying in the cold rain and silently praying.

A cab stops at the steps of the church. She doesn’t notice it at first. Albert opens the door.

“Emily, let’s go home. Please,” he adds that he thinks she isn’t going to move.

She does get into the cab. He doesn’t know how to feel about her. There is a sense of danger and unpredictability to her. He wonders if he made the right choice allowing her back.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice is quiet, tired, and strained from crying.” I don’t remember what happened. I’m sorry for whatever I did when I wasn’t myself.”

“This has happened before?”

She nods, still crying.

“How often does this sort of thing happen?”

“It hasn’t happened in years.”

“Do you have any family?”

The question seems to catch her off guard.

“I did once, but I’m not sure anymore. We don’t talk.”

The cab stops at the house. He opens the door and holds his hand out for her. Gertrude opens the door looking shocked seeing them.

“Oh my lord,” she practically drags Emily to the bath.” You’re soaking wet! You’ll catch your death of cold! I’ll prepare a hot bath for you right away.”

She gives Albert a stern look.

“Why did you let her go out in such terrible weather?”

“Miss Watson can is not a prisoner, she can go out whenever she pleases. And she’s free to consider this place her home as long as she chooses to do so. “