Read Online Renegade by Amy Carol Reeves - Free Book Online

murderer by his more well-known name, Jack the Ripper, when Simon and I both knew his true identity.
    “No,” Simon replied. “I think everyone believes the Ripper to be either dead or gone—after all, there have been no more murders since the autumn.”
    He set down his teacup. “This latest case is slightly more mundane. Apparently there has been a rash of grave robbings.”
    I widened my eyes a little, remembering my dream about Highgate Cemetery. About Mariah. But that had nothing to do with grave robbing.
    “We try to make sure that all the corpses we receive for study here are attained from reputable suppliers, but, as you know, it is nearly impossible to be absolutely certain. Most, even the stolen ones, are from paupers’ graves—with very little security or attentive family survivors. Two weeks ago, however, one of the bodies we received was the sixteen-year-old son of a Member of Parliament.”
    “Uh-oh,” I heard myself murmur.
    “Precisely.” Simon chuckled. “I would never have known, but one of our medical students recognized the boy. Apart from the horror of having to return the body, which we had already begun to dissect, to the still-grieving family … ”
    I sucked in my breath.
    “Yes, it was awful for the boy’s family and a disgrace for the hospital. Abberline has used the incident to interrogate our business practices here.”
    “Well, he probably still thinks that the Ripper works here,” I said.
    Simon merely smiled. “He might try to corner you.”
    “I think I can manage him,” I said quickly, not wanting to remember my past interactions with Abberline, particularly that terrible evening at Scotland Yard when he had tried to blackmail me.
    I poured another cup of tea. Swallowed. “Simon … ”
    He leaned forward, concerned. “Have you seen him? Max?”
    “No. I haven’t.” I paused. I had a sudden desperate urge to tell Simon about Roddy’s death, and how I felt sure it was Max who had saved me, but I could not. I could not discuss that day with anyone—at least not for a long time yet. I then decided it would be best to simply tell Simon what he should know now.
    “I had another vision,” I said.
    Simon leaned across the desk, attentive.
    Quickly, I told him about the vision of the lamia brought on by the painting in the laboratory. While Simon had not yet seen the portrait of my mother as a lamia, I had told both him and William about it and he could understand my comparison.
    “It’s quite bizarre,” I said. “The creature was not my mother—Mother had red hair, like mine. And although Gabriel painted the portrait, Christina mentioned once that my mother had given directions for how it was to be done. It’s unlike anything else that Gabriel ever created.” I bit my lip; it was always hard talking about this. “Mother told me nothing about her past with the Conclave. But I’m wondering if there is some sort of message to me, from her, in the painting.”
    Simon remained silent. His eyes veiled.
    I chuckled a bit. “Of course, this all seems like foolishness. Lamias only exist in stories. The creature in my vision cannot be real.”
    Once again, I had all of Simon’s attention, and yet he seemed maddeningly unreadable. So I continued. “And then, last night, I had a vivid nightmare about Mariah. I was in Highgate Cemetery, and she was alive. And someone was behind me.”
    I smiled even as I felt a tear prick my eye. “Perhaps, after all the psychic excitement we’ve gone through, I have finally gone batty, but … ”
    My voice came out as a croak.
    “Something is happening, Simon. I’m fearful. There’s a reason we haven’t seen Max yet. A reason that he hasn’t killed us by now.”
    Simon’s light face seemed to shine a bit in the dim office. He started to speak, but at that moment I heard footsteps ascending the stairs, walking quickly past Simon’s office.
    William. His office door at the end of the hall closed loudly.
    Simon’s lips pressed