"This is a first even for me," Brackenreid chuckled as he stepped into Murdoch's bedroom, "normally we handcuff villains, we don't pin them under furniture."
Murdoch knelt on the floor beside Serge. Serge's gun in his hand aimed at the ground, "I apologize Sir, I appear to have left my handcuffs in my other pants." He said indicating his pajamas.
Brackenreid gaped at him a moment then nudged an equally astounded Henry, "you see that Higgins, I do believe Murdoch made a joke," he winked at Murdoch, "must be the joyful anticipation of his imminent trip to India."
Murdoch said nothing his attention back on a slowly awakening Serge, "do not try to move Mr. Samuels, you do not appear to have suffered any severe damage, but until the bed is lifted we will not know for sure." He told him.
Serge looked around him and snarled, trying to make a grab for Murdoch and the gun, Murdoch stayed where he was, letting Serge know he'd already anticipated his reaction and placed himself well out of reach.
"If you don't mind Inspector, I'll wait to see this man hang before I join my wife."
Loud pounding on the door brought Murdoch's head up out of a troubled sleep, since his bed was still in need of repair he'd taken to sleeping in the spare room. For some reason a sense of doom followed him from his dreams and he was shaken and sweating as he slipped his feet over the side of the bed and into his slippers. Forgoing putting on a dressing gown over his damp pajamas he stumbled down the stairs, muttering all the fine curses his wife had taught him. The continued pounding persisted until he flipped on the porch light and ripped open the door with a thunderous snarl.
The string of abuse he had stored up to spew forth died on his lips and an icy cold fear slithered up his spine, burrowed into his body and gouged thick cold hooks into his stomach and heart.
Sir Henry stood there, leaning heavily on his cane, his eyes bloodshot and tears streaking down his face. Darcy beside him looking equally pale.
"No!" Murdoch said flatly, all the light bleeding from around him, he started to close the door, unable to face what he knew was coming. Sir Henry put his hand out, a pleading, helpless gesture.
"I'm so sorry William," he whispered as he grasped the doorframe as if his legs would not hold him up any longer.
Murdoch just stared at him, not moving, frozen in place, as if his body knew if he moved even a fraction in any direction the pain would tear him to shreds.
"There was an attack," Darcy said, his voice horse, "we think it was Thugs, they slaughtered everyone and took the women…. I'm so sorry Murdoch."
The light left completely, everything went black, there was no floor under his feet, not sky above him, nothing in front of him and nothing behind him, an endless expanse of total darkness, black nothing, he stood in a void, not even sound could reach him, he was suddenly empty.
I love you William.
Agony sliced through him as if each word tore a piece off him.
Your logic is infuriating William!
He let the pain take him, let it run him through with spears of memories.
Yes I will marry you.
Gone. Her sweetly twisted sense of humor, gone.
That was meant to raise your spirits Detective Murdoch.
That amazing mind, gone.
I read about that William,
Her honorable strength, gone.
I can not in good conscience continue.
Her unquenchable spirit, gone.
My Hippocratic oath trumps yours!
His heart, and soul, taken.
Julia taken, taken,
"Taken!" He shouted, sitting up, the glass of brandy Sir Henry was trying to feed him went flying as he shot out of the chair.
"You said taken?" he grabbed Darcy by the lapels and hauled him out of his chair.
Darcy nodded, pity twisting his features, "Murdoch, you know what they will do to her, you must not hold out hope. She's gone to us," he said softly. Murdoch snarled at him and shoved him back so hard he fell back into his chair.
"Taken is alive, not dead. Taken is alive," he snapped turning around in a circle as he tried to get his thoughts together,
"Be reasonable man, even if you could find her, and she is still alive, she would not be the same, she would be damaged, soiled, sold to the highest bidder." Darcy tried again, distaste coloring his words.
Murdoch turned to him in icy fury, "I don't care if she has to become the whore of Babylon to survive, as long she lives. I will find her and Julia knows that. She will fight and bargain and do anything and everything she can to stay alive," he stormed out the door. Sir Henry sank down into his chair and poured himself another shot of brandy, threw it back, then rose to suddenly much steadier feet.
"We will need you to contact the people who sent her to India, tell them I demand all of their information on this. I want to know exactly where, who, why and how. Also have them contact me to make arrangements for our arrival in India." Sir Henry ordered, then shooed him off when he stood there gaping.
"Tell them I want the person who contacted them to be waiting for us when we arrive, anyone and everyone who had any contact with Julia and the group she was with I want to know." Murdoch ordered as he came down the stairs fully dressed, carrying a small carry case.
Sir Henry looked him over and nodded, "we'll have to buy any clothing we need as we go," he said.
Murdoch nodded and led the way out of the door, Sir Henry and a very shocked Darcy behind him.
His entire being was focused on moving forward, the next step, the next carriage ride, the next train stop, the next ship port. Every mile he covered brought him closer to her, closer to finding her. It was the only thing he thought about, the only thing he could think about, because if he stopped thinking, planning, plotting and studying every morsel of information they collected over and over, the fear and the awful black wave of emptiness that was there hovering just beyond the hope, the prayers and the faith, would consume him and he might not be able to drag his way out of it a second time.
Her head ached, along with her bruised and swollen face, and every other part of her anatomy. Thankfully her corset had protected her body from the worst of the blows the fat swine had landed, but she'd won one small victory, he'd not managed to have her. Despite the beating and the knife he'd held to her throat she'd fought him like a wild thing, when the scar faced leader had stormed into the tent and saved her, she'd already bloodied the bastard.
Now the swine's body lay somewhere behind them, food for the carrion and the big scarred man watched her with a growing interest that she knew could not be good. He'd killed the man that tried to rape her, but she knew it was not out of any sense of decency towards her. Now he came to her cage often throughout the day, studying her.
"Please be careful Miss doctor, it is not good to look Xui in the eyes," the soft sing song voice whispered near her ear, and Julia turned around. During the night someone had slipped a blanket though the bars behind her, and tried to make her more comfortable, it smelt of horse and she knew it came from him.
The youngster was about sixteen, she'd seen him often around the camp tending to the horses. The men treated him as if he were invisible. He cleaned and kept the fires but never rising from his bowed crouch, always keeping himself below eye level and as inconspicuous as possible.
At first she had assumed he was a Harijan, an untouchable. The very lowest in a caste system that made the English class system look like school yard play.
"Thank you for the blanket," she said softly, keeping a careful eye out for anyone watching. She'd seen him getting beaten just for catching one of the men's attention, the last thing she wanted was for him to get into more trouble for talking to her.
"I am sorry it is not very clean," he said, and she heard a little humor in his voice, "the horses do not mind a little dirt."
Julia snuggled deeper into it, the sun was setting and while the days were unbelievably hot, the nights were slightly above freezing. A simple thing like that blanket was a god send on both night and day, she'd managed to pull some of it over the bars of the cage and give herself a little shade from the unrelenting sun.
"It will probably save my life over the next few days," she said firmly, then turned to look at him. He had the clean classic lines of a face that would one day break hearts, with eyes the color of burnt amber that almost glowed in the gathering darkness, and something about those eyes made her pause. He did not look like any untouchable she had seen, they all had a beaten, broken, resignation in their eyes, the world was so cruel, so often and so completely they seemed to expect nothing else. He didn't, she saw strength, courage, kindness and a very sharp mind behind those eyes.
"You are not …" she did not know any way to ask him without sounding rude, he cocked his head to one side, looking over her shoulder for a moment then tapped his nose and grinned, but said nothing as he scrambled back into the bushes.
Julia wrapped the blanket more securely around her, and drawing up her knees she prepared for another night of no sleep as she kept vigil, studying every inch of her surroundings and listening to the men talk. Not for the first time since the night they took her did she silently thank her Hindu professor for his language lessons, though rudimentary and by no means fluent, she was learning more and more every day.
Xui moved towards her, sliding into the shadows, he moved silently, like a hunter, and it was only because she instinctively kept a track on him whenever he was within sight that she could see him now. She kept her eyes semi closed, as if dozing, but watched him peripherally.
The night their camp had been attacked she'd been awake, writing in her journal. Shots and screaming had brought her running out of her tent and into hell itself. There was blood and bodies everywhere, and men with horses shouting, women screaming, and cries for mercy from both servants and the doctors. Xui had shown them none, coldly and viciously he'd slaughtered all the servants and guards, beaten the rest of the men viciously while the women cowered in terrified horror, he'd ordered his men to line them up and manacle them together. Too shocked to move, Julia stood outside her tent and watched it all until one of the men spotted her and rode over shouting orders at her.
It snapped her out of shock long enough for her to grab her tent pole, yank it out and knock him off his horse with it. He'd rolled to his feet drawing a long thick curved blade in a perfectly practiced move. A shout from behind her was the last warning she got before pain shot through her head and she tumbled into darkness.
Now she watched and waited, every night she worked on loosening a long nail holding the floor of wooden cage on wheels together. During the day she dragged that cage, tethered to it like a beast, the deep blisters from the yoke got worse and the wounds deeper, but bleeding and bruised she refused to give an inch.
"I know you are not sleeping Doctor," his voice was husky, and surprisingly gentle, yet it still made her skin crawl.
When he came and stood by her cage she had to force herself not to cringe into the farthest corner, she turned her head to watch him but did not reply.
"My English is good, this I know, but if you prefer the language of your little friend there I will speak to you in Hindi," he said and she bit her tongue, fear freezing her spine.
"What friend?" she snapped, "he is nothing but a servant, I do not consider them friends," she stated coldly. Silently praying that it would save her saviors life. Xui was a vicious animal, everything he had done up to this point had been to break her will, to beat her down until she was as broken and damaged as the slaves that served him.
Xui watched her for a moment, a slight frown on his face, "typical of the English, someone does you a good turn and you look down on them," he stated and shaking his head moved away.
"I'm not English," she muttered when she was sure he was out of earshot.
She did not see her friend for the next two days and, sad as that made her, she knew she was in no condition to worry about him. She'd woken up in the early hours of the morning with a raging fever, weak and aching all over. Her water ration for the day already long gone, and the hours in the sun had become one torturous step after another. The blistering from the yoke had turned into open sores that soaked her shirt with yellow puss sticking the cloth to the wounds as it dried in the sun.
"Julia,"
William's voice whispered in her ear and her head shot up, she realized she'd lost time. Desperately she tried to focus on her surroundings, but she was so exhausted and in so much pain that she no longer knew what she was doing it for.
The further away from civilization they went the more impossible it would be for anyone to find her, if they even knew she was missing, and it would be weeks before anyone managed to get here to save her. Weeks would be too late.
"You are staying alive, that is all that matters," William's voice again and this time when she looked up she was no longer in the desert, she was sitting in William's office. He rose from behind his desk and moved closer to her, taking her hand as he settled against the desk beside her.
"Was it all a bad dream?" she asked confused. Murdoch stroked her hand and shook his head, such sorrow on his expressive face.
"No," he said, then leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead.
"You have to wake up Julia, you have to fight on just a little while longer," he whispered. She cringed away and shook her head, "I can't William, I am so sorry but I can not," hating herself for the whimpering weakling she was.
"Not a weakling, never that, you have more strength in you than any ten men and you can do this," he told her taking her chin and bringing her face up to meet his eyes.
"I am coming, don't doubt that for a minute, you know how resourceful I am, trust in that,"
"She's feverish, if we do not manage to cool her down she will not last the night,"
The words were spoken by a woman and for a moment Murdoch seemed to grow transparent, her surroundings shimmered and she was suddenly so cold, her teeth were clattering. Then it was gone and Murdoch was there again.
"They are trying to save you Julia,"
"For what?" she snapped, she did not want to go back to the horror.
Murdoch didn't answer that, he looked over her shoulder for a moment, then back at her and there was a steely determination in his eyes.
"Find out," he ordered, "you have been with them for ten days, it's time to stop just being and start questioning," he said shortly, "And where are your friends? Why have you not asked about them yet?"
Guilt pushed at her and Julia turned her face away, they were now no longer in his office, but in the cells under the precinct.
"We will receive nothing if she dies."
She knew that voice, hated it with a deep and bitter loathing, as her surroundings once again shimmered in and out of focus.
"We are doing everything, but…" the voice hesitated, and she could taste the fear in the air around them.
"Speak old woman before you anger me," Xui snarled.
"Forgive me lord, but she did this to herself," the woman's voice trembled as she spoke, "she refused to eat, and wasted her daily ration of water to wash with, " her voice trembled slightly, "you said she is to be broken, and we tried," she ended on a soft whisper.
"They wanted to break me," she muttered as Murdoch turned over in the bed, his face close to hers on their shared a pillow.
"They can not if you do not let them," he said softly, his lips so temptingly close, "but choosing death is not the answer," he scolded gently his hand brushing her cheek.
"You must live Julia, live and do not loose hope, live to fight another day."
His touch on her cheek became a stinging slap that shot her back to reality with a hoarsely muttered curse. She opened her eyes to see the wizard face of the woman healer, cold dead eyes glared at her as she rubbed her abused cheek.
"You of course had to chose the one already swollen to slap," she snapped, shoving her back as she tried to sit up.
"Stop, rest, the master will see you tonight and you are to be better restored when he does," the old woman snarled batting her hands away. Julia was still too weak to argue with her so she sank back against the pillows.
"Why was I to be broken?" she asked, pushing the offered water away when the healer tried to feed it to her.
The woman's eyes narrowed and she grabbed Julia's hair and forced her head back, trying to force the water down her throat. Julia allowed it to fill her mouth, sweet water, her parched throat burned for it, but she spat in back in the healers face as she pushed the woman back. The hag flew off her chair to land on the floor with a yelp.
Julia sat up quickly, regretting it almost instantly when the room swam around her and darkness threatened to suck her under again.
"Very well, a bargain then," said the healer as she groaned to her feet and sat back on the stool beside the bed.
"You will lay back down and drink what I give you, eat what I give you, and I will answer your question," she said slyly. Julia could not look at her, she was trying to focus on one point on the floor to keep from passing out.
"All my questions," she demanded stubbornly, "all or nothing, and choose quickly because if I sit here much longer your master is going to be talking to a corpse tonight," she snapped.
"Done, now lie down," she hissed as she shoved her back on the bed.
"You need to work on your bedside manner," Julia muttered but let herself relax against the pillows again.
She took the offered water and this time drank it in slow soothing sips, her stomach contracted and she nearly doubled over at the pain, but continued to drink slowly despite the desperate thirst that screamed at her to gulp and gorge.
"The one who is to be your master wishes you to be more manageable," the healer said, moving to the side and lifting a bowl of steaming gruel. It looked like grey slime, but the nutty smell of oats was not unpleasant.
Julia let her feed her a spoon full, and while not at all appetizing, it was warm and did not taste bad.
"My master?" she even managed it without a snarl, though that could be because she was talking around another mouthful of oats.
"Yes, he is paying handsomely for your delivery," she said it with a touch of pride and Julia thought the porridge would spew back out at any moment.
"He ordered the attack?" she asked it in a harsh whisper. The old woman studied her for a moment, and there finally was a drop of compassion in her dead eyes.
"Yes," she pushed Julia back when she started to gag, "but the master was already going to take your party, the riches and ransoms for a group of Englishmen so close to our land was too good an opportunity to miss," she sighed, and shook her head, "you must submit young one, all this fighting will only make everything worse for you. Where you are going there will be no mercy, and no one who cares whether you live or die, these people consider women somewhere far below that of a horse and slightly above that of a dog, and English women even below the dog."
Julia contemplated the horror that was in her future, and could not swallow another spoon of porridge, to her surprise the old woman put it aside.
"I can help you," she said softly, leaning forward.
Julia frowned at her warily, "how and why?" she asked not trusting her an inch.
"I can give you the sweet kiss of death, painless, and quick," she hissed, "not here of course, but once you reach your new home you will wish for a quick easy death," she lifted a tiny exquisitely delicate bottle, brightly colored and decorated.
"One taste of this and your troubles will be over in minutes," she said, holding it just out of reach. "I will trade you for that pretty ring you hide in your clothing."
Julia shuddered, the temptation overwhelming.
"You must live Julia."
She knew then she could not do it, as long as there was a breath left in her body she would put her trust in Murdoch.
"Take it away Hag," she snarled, and turned her head away when the woman cackled like a demented beast.
And then the shooting started again.
