A/N: Okay! So I've been getting into tormenting the shit out of my Eclipse book with my trusty red pens like an English teacher that doesn't give a fuck about making kids feel secure or not. (Apparently, purple is preferred now or demanded because red is too "alarming". Fucking P.C. bullshit!) It's dropping in temperature outside and by God I love it! Supposedly we're going to get snow, but I haven't seen a lick of it. Nevermind, just looked at the radar and snow has bypassed us entirely. *shakes fist at the sky*

Aashiyana/India is not mine; she belongs to my friend Alexiel who also created Maria/Arizona, Rosa/New Mexico and Mia/California and a version of Australia that I adore possibly more than the canon Australia. His name's Kody and his koala is evil.

Chapter Ten

Arthur opened his eyes and looked to the window slowly. It was getting dark outside. How long had he been asleep? He told the driver to wake him up when they reached the palace should he actually fall asleep. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cocaine from his inside jacket pocket and took some of it. He would be glad when this case was over with, because it would be one less thing he had to do.

"Mr. Ross?" he called through the pipe as he let the drug take effect. There was no answer. Arthur frowned and called into the pipe again. Again, he received no answer. He sat up and looked out the window again and saw he was not at the palace or anywhere near it. He was in the East End. It was a miracle the horses were still tethered. He could tell they were, he could hear them and feel them fidget by the way the carriage moved.

Slowly, Arthur got out of the carriage and looked around. The horses were fine, they looked restless though. The carriage was in fine shape, which meant that the carriage being stopped was because of something else. Sure enough, Mr. Ross wasn't up on the perch at all. Arthur had that uneasy feeling in his stomach again and his heart was picking up. He hopped up on the perch and took up the reins. He snapped them and was rewarded with the horses moving forward into the darkened streets.

Mr. Ross had been acting strangely to be certain. He seemed to perpetually keep his face hidden from Arthur, he kept asking Arthur various questions, and he lashed out in tone of his voice when Arthur mentioned something in particular, though Arthur couldn't remember what exactly it was. He watched as the East End disappeared around him and made his way back toward home, though he had some difficulty getting used to driving a carriage. He had not had to drive even a cart for a long time much less a carriage.

His house seemed normal. The lights were on in some places, particularly where the maids and Bernard would be located. He drove the carriage into the drive and stopped them slowly. He hopped off the perch and went inside to look around. "Bernard?"

"Yes, Master Kirkland?" Bernard came out of the sitting room and took Arthur's coat and hat. "You look a little wet."

"Drove the carriage home," said Arthur. "That new driver disappeared before we even got to the palace. In fact, he took me to the East End instead."

"Mr. Farrow?" asked Bernard.

Arthur stopped and looked to Bernard. "Pardon?"

"Are you referring to Mr. Farrow, sir?" asked Bernard as he put Arthur's coat and hat up.

"No, he's sick. The driver I had was Mr. Ross," said Arthur.

"I do not know of any Mr. Ross," said Bernard, looking to Arthur over his shoulder, "I would have been informed and informed you if Mr. Farrow had sent word that he was sick as well."

Arthur bolted out the door and ran first to the stable. Bernard was close behind him, though he was getting slow in his late years. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary in the stables. He saw a couple of young men come around to pull the horses and carriage toward the stables, he saw another young man cleaning out the stables and putting in fresh hay, but he saw no Mr. Ross. He looked around in the stables as the young man putting in fresh hay watched him. "Is something wrong, sir?" he asked Arthur.

"Have you seen a relatively tall man with a sort of floppy hat and goes by the name Mr. Ross?" The boy looked at him with a surprised expression, though made no indication he knew what Arthur was talking about. Arthur, his hands shaking a little, punched the wood support beam nearest to him before moving back and forth around the stables to see if he could possibly find a clue. Bernard stood back and watched him, coming in eventually behind Arthur to check the stalls.

"Sir, I just cleaned the stalls, there's nothing in them but fresh hay and blankets, brushes, that sort of thing," said the stable hand.

"I believe the young man is right," said Bernard, "He would likely have found something if something were to be found."

Arthur wasn't satisfied. There had to be something there. There had to be. Either it was in the stable or it was at Mr. Farrow's house and he had no idea where Mr. Farrow lived. "Bernard!"

"Yes, sir?"

"We're going to Mr. Farrow's house," said Arthur. "You are going to show me his home."

"Yes, sir," said Bernard.

"Would you like the carriage and horses taken 'round to the front, then, sir?" asked the stable hand.

"No, we're walking," said Arthur. He couldn't stand still. He needed to keep moving. He needed to hide the shaking in his hands. His heart beat quickly against his ribs as he felt the surge of energy take hold from the cocaine.

"Mr. Farrow doesn't live too far from here," said Bernard, "It would be faster, however, if we used the carriage, sir."

"I don't give a fuck about the carriage, Bernard!" snapped Arthur.

"Master Kirkland, calm down." Bernard put his hands on Arthur's shoulders and forced him to face him. "I know you are stressed by this, but I am certain there is a logical explanation for it."

One that chilled Arthur to the bone and rattled him worse than the cocaine was currently doing. Oh, but the high of it was handy. Arthur shoved Bernard's hands off of him and jogged along the street. "Bernard! Show me where Mr. Farrow lives!" snapped Arthur. Bernard sighed and followed after him.

Bernard had been right that the carriage would have been handy, but Arthur couldn't sit still. He needed the activity of walking, jogging, running, anything to keep the focus of his shaking and fidgeting to a minimum. He didn't want Bernard to know about him getting the cocaine and the laudanum or even the absinthe. Bernard didn't know that Arthur desperately needed them all to keep going, to distract from things when he needed the distraction from the real world to that of his memories.

They reached Mr. and Mrs. Farrow's little house in a small amount of time. Arthur went up to the door and knocked on it with the door knocker. The door opened to reveal a nice looking woman, her brown curls pulled back into a bun at the back of her head. She looked at Bernard and Arthur in confusion. "Yes?"

"Is Mr. Farrow home?" asked Arthur.

"No," said Mrs. Farrow, "In fact he went to work and I haven't seen him since. Is... Is he all right?" Genuine worry lined her face as she pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve. "Please say he is!"

"Madam," said Bernard as he moved forward toward her. "We were hoping he was here. We have no idea where he has gone to, but I am certain we will find him eventually." Mrs. Farrow nodded and trembled a little in fear. Arthur moved away from the door and started back for home. Bernard looked back over his shoulder at Arthur and then looked to Mrs. Farrow. "We will send word if something has come up." Then, he turned and jogged after Arthur.

Arthur didn't have any patience at all now. Instead of walking, Arthur ran all the way back home at a dead run, his lithe, lightly built body perfect for the speed. He used to outrun his brothers all the time to the trees to hide when he irritated them. Now, Bernard, whose body was getting on in years, was having trouble keeping up with Arthur as he disappeared around the bend. Arthur kept running until he got to his house and then sprinted up the stairs two at a time, falling on his face twice in the effort. He checked the guest rooms first. Nothing. He saw the Native American drum Alfred left in one room. He went to the next one and found nothing in that except a gold bangle. Arthur lifted it up and put it to his cheek as he felt his body tremble again. He put the bangle in his pocket and dashed out of the room.

He went to his bedroom next and stopped in his tracks. Everywhere he looked his things had been tossed around as though someone had been looking for something in particular. Arthur moved forward into his room slowly, looking around carefully for movement. He lit the lamps carefully and found his absinthe and laudanum stowed away properly. His trunks had been moved around and some had been left open. His clothes in his wardrobe were still there. His windows were left open and there was something on his balcony. He walked over to it and stepped out to see what it was. Holding the lamp closer to his eyes, he kneeled down to see mud on the painted wood. He moved around and found the imprint of a robe in the railing from supporting this person's weight. He walked in and followed the fading trail of mud into his room on his carpet until it disappeared entirely at his bed.

Arthur's heart pounded hard in his chest as he looked to the closed curtains on the bed. After a long moment where he felt as though any second something would jump out at him from the curtains, he snapped them back quickly and held the lamp up. There was nothing on the bed. His sheets were fine. They were normal, even, for the maids to have made the bed, though why would the curtains be drawn? He frowned and took off his jacket, putting it on a chair. He took his tie out and collar and put them on top of his jacket before he made his way out of his room and down the hall to the bathroom.

In the tub was the most horrific of the sights. There, in the tub, was the reclining, naked body of little Anne. Her blonde hair was stained, her pale eyes wide and unfocused, staring up at the ceiling. Her body had been ripped open. Her intestines had been tied around her neck. Her organs had been set aside on the floor. Had no one heard this? Why had no one come up to look?

Arthur stumbled backward into the wall behind him, shaking terribly. He felt ill. He felt a hand on his shoulder and shouted loudly as he struck out at whatever came near him. He was then restrained by his butler Bernard, who was now sporting a small bruise on his cheek thanks to Arthur's fist partially catching him. "Calm down, Master Kirkland, please," said Bernard as he held Arthur's wrists securely. He looked to the bathroom and realization dawned on him as well as no small measure of horror. "Great God," he muttered.

"It's him. He did it. Jack. He was here," said Arthur. "We have to find Mr. Farrow. There might still be hope for him being alive!" Arthur attempted to shove himself up to his feet, but fell in Bernard's arms. Tears came to his eyes at his own weakness and for the girl he had assaulted and had intended on helping get a new job, perhaps a better one than being a maid for him. "How? How did he do this and no one see him? Is he a ghost? Why little Anne? Why her? What had she done to him?"

"She had come in to get the recommendation not that long ago. I had thought she had left. I was certain I had seen her go," said Bernard.

"We can't let the police know of this. They have trouble believing me enough as it is. A body in my home, they'll think it was me that did the job," said Arthur, his breathing picking up.

"Sir, I think it would be wise to inform them of this."

"Fuck that thought!" Arthur hissed at Bernard through his teeth in Hindi; worried the maids would hear them arguing. "They barely believe me when I say I'm a fair psychic! They think I'm wholly useless on the case, not that I blame them because even I think I am useless in this! I've already had to dispel Chief Inspector Moore's suspicion once! A girl I had assaulted after having some delusion suddenly turns up dead in my house in the same way that the Ripper kills his whores… do you honestly think they'll not suspect me at all!? Especially after I've been missing for Lord only knows how long!"

"You take care of the body, then, Master Kirkland, and I will keep the servants busy elsewhere," said Bernard.

"Thank you," said Arthur. With the help of Bernard, Arthur stood up and walked into the bathroom slowly. He turned when he heard the door close behind him. He could hear Bernard's footsteps walking away from the door. Arthur then slowly turned to the tub with Anne's body decaying in its own blood. Arthur slowly walked to her and touched her lifeless cheek gently, smearing a little of her blood without meaning to. Her skin still had some warmth to it. She had not been dead that long. That meant that whenever Jack had killed her it had not been as long ago as Arthur had thought. Perhaps this had been the last thing Jack had done before leaving Arthur's house with whatever else he had found out by searching through Arthur's trunks.

He rolled his sleeve as far up his arm as he could and slowly reached into the cooling blood. He felt for the plug and found it, but holding onto it through the thick blood was like holding onto wet soap. Every time he got a hold of the chain for the plug, his hand would slip and he would run his hand into some part of Anne's body, making him jump terribly. Blood dripped on the floor whenever he pulled his arm out from the blood after brushing against Anne's thigh or calf. When he finally got a good grip on the chain, the plug gave way and the blood drained down into the drain underneath it slowly.

Arthur grabbed a towel and wiped his arm down with it using some of the water from the wash basin. Then, he looked out in the hallway for any of the maids and went to the guest room closest to the bathroom and grabbed the sheet from the bed. He hurriedly made his way to the bathroom and locked the door quickly before anyone would notice him. As quietly and quickly as he could, he pulled Anne's body from the tub and laid it on the sheet. He then put her organs on her and wrapped the sheet around her until there was nothing to be seen of her. Even wrapped like a mummy, he could see that he had only a short time before her blood would seep through the sheet and get on him. He took his shirt off entirely and picked up her body in his arms. He could withstand the cold air for a short time. He just needed to commandeer his own carriage.

Bernard, as though reading his mind, waved him through down the stairs. "Sir, you'll need your coat. It's quite cold outside."

"If I wear anything it'll show on the fabric," said Arthur, "Just get the stable hands away from the stables so I can get the carriage hitched up to the horses."

"You'll need help."

"I don't need help. I can do this much on my own," said Arthur. He then left carefully through the front door with the wrapped body in his arms, checking for people who might see him as he skirted around the house to the stables in the shadowy places. The night was very dark, thankfully, and the moon provided only a faint glow through the clouds. He heard Bernard call the stable hands inside, away from the stables. Arthur inwardly thanked Bernard and skittered quickly to the stable. He found that the stable hands had mercifully only then started on putting the horses into their stalls and putting the carriage away. He put Anne's body into the carriage and then pulled a clean horse blanket around his body; then he grabbed a shovel and put that in with Anne and got up onto the perch where he started the horses forward slowly so as to not be heard.

He drove the carriage until they were outside of the city. The blanket provided him a great deal of warmth, thankfully, but it would not be enough if he went too far outside of the city. Even still, he needed to get to the woods. If he died from the cold, he would just come back to life again. His servants would be wondering what had happened to him, however, and what had happened to the carriage. He found a good spot, though it wasn't ideal. It was better than trying to force a grave for her in one of the city graveyards. Instead, he had found an old graveyard outside of the city.

He checked around him for a moment and then got off of the perch. He put the horse blanket on the perch and then took Anne's body and the shovel out of the carriage. He carried her awkwardly to a good place in the graveyard and set her down on the cold ground before he set to his work. Digging was something he had not done in a long time and his muscles were not accustomed to it. Every inch of his body burned and itched from the horse blanket and the strain from digging the grave until it was deep enough. He had to use almost all his remaining strength to scramble out of the grave and then place Anne's body into it. When done, he poured earth on her and then put rocks down on top of the earth packed onto her body. He repeated this until the ground was level and then he put the grass on top of it that he had dug up and packed that down.

He sat down on the ground a moment to catch his breath, the cold ground and air stealing any sort of warmth from his body. He softly said a prayer over the grave then and stood up away from it. He dusted himself off and sighed at how dirty he had made himself, but he had finished the job without much notice. Now, the only task left to him was to get back home without being noticed.

Arthur coughed into his hand as he made his way back to the carriage. He pulled the horse blanket back around him and started back to the quickly. Time seemed to drag on forever as he drove the carriage until he was on cobblestone streets. Arthur waited by the gate of the house until he saw Bernard come out with a lantern and walk out to the stables. Arthur took this as his cue and started the carriage forward up the drive.

"They're inside eating supper," said Bernard, "All of them. I don't think you'll mind if they are partaking in some of your finest wine, Master Kirkland. I said you were rewarding them all for being such good employees."

"A little reward every now and again keeps morale up," said Arthur as he hopped off the perch, "As it does give me plenty of time to do what I need to. Good food and fine wine like that and it's almost a guarantee that they'll take their time eating and enjoying such rewards."

"You're filthy," Bernard chided, "And that horse blanket, I am certain, is making you itch terribly."

"I feel feverish," said Arthur as he put the blanket up. He immediately shivered until his teeth rattled and he could barely walk. Bernard put his own coat on Arthur's shoulders and looked into the carriage. Bernard pulled the shovel out and checked the seats. "The upholstery is black," said Arthur, "I doubt anyone will notice if blood is on them."

"Indeed," said Bernard, "But I'll come back to it tomorrow when the stable is cleared of the hands to get some of that out in any case." He put the shovel away and then ushered Arthur in through the side door and up the stairs. Arthur then heard the maids and other servants coming out from the dining room to go about putting things back in their places before they left for home. Luck had been on Arthur's side, though now he was paying for it with the fever he could feel heating his body up and making him shake uncontrollably in Bernard's arms.

Bernard helped undress Arthur and then helped him to wash the dirt and blood away from his body in wash tub that Bernard had pulled into the room. That was fine enough to Arthur, though the cold of the water didn't help his shaking and shivering. Arthur didn't want to get into the bathtub. He didn't want to see that body still lying there with her insides open to the world. He didn't want to smell the blood and the feces. He didn't want to remember how slick it all had been. The very thoughts going through his head made him even sicker than he was already.

Bernard had spent the time cleaning the bathroom and straightening Arthur's room by himself. It was a wonder the man still had the strength to help Arthur out, given that Bernard was getting on in years. Arthur's room didn't even look like it had been ransacked like it had before. There were still foot prints in the carpet, however. They were bigger than Arthur's feet, though Arthur was rather short in comparison to most young men. His trunks were put back into their places according to which century they belonged to. His wardrobe was back in order. His windows were shut and the curtains were drawn.

Bernard set down a lamp for Arthur and nodded to him. "Sleep, sir. You need it."

Arthur nodded and got into the bed slowly, checking to see if there were any other surprises. When he found nothing he tucked himself in and settled back, though his skin burned terribly and the covers did not help him at all. "Bring me some water and a clean cloth for my head, Bernard."

"Yes, sir," said Bernard.

Arthur smiled when he saw Aashiyana. She stood in a light garment, not as fancy as the things he had seen her wear. She had petals in her long hair, which was unfurled from its braid and fell down past her waist. She looked as though she just came back from one of her "continentals", her walkabouts where she left to go enjoy her countryside instead of staying cooped up in her home and the city. Arthur had heard of her talking about them, but had thankfully never had so bad a luck as to arrive in India when India herself was not there at all.

"You look as lovely as ever, Aashiyana," said Arthur, smiling warmly. He touched her cheek and stroked her smooth, warm skin. She nuzzled into his touch, more willing than he had seen of her in a long time. "I've missed you so much," he whispered as tears started to fall from his eyes. "I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to come over and haven't been able to."

"You are here now, Arthur, and that is all that matters," said Aashiyana. She took his hand in her and held it firmly in her hand as though to tell him that it was all right; he didn't need to feel alone anymore.

Out of no where he heard the laugh. It was a laugh like that of the devil. Aashiyana's hand was ripped from his so fast he couldn't get a second hold on her. He watched as a man cloaked in shadow pulled her away from him. Arthur found himself shackled, his neck in a collar, his hands held to a wall with steel cuffs. He was locked into place and unable to move. The man chuckled as he held Aashiyana immobile.

"Get the fuck away from her!" he shouted.

The man laughed. "Do you think I would give up such a prize as this, Sir Arthur?"

Arthur's eyes widened in fear as he trembled horribly; why did he know him? Who was this man? How could he have followed him all the way to India? "Who are you?"

"You know who I am, boss," said the all too jovial tone of the shadowy man.

"YOU LET GO OF HER, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Arthur snarled and bucked and fought against his restraints, but he couldn't do anything to budge them.

"Tsk tsk, boss, that's not how you get things done," said the man. He chuckled and Arthur saw those eyes. They were bright green, brighter than most, but still not as bright and unnaturally colored as Arthur's. The man touched Aashiyana's cheek with the blade in his hand. "What would be more disturbing to you, I wonder," he said softly, "To see your girl completely mangled? Oh yes, that is disturbing. To see your whore treated as a whore should be treated… now that's an even better idea."

Aashiyana tried to fight, but the man shoved her on her face and held her in place as he stabbed her in the shoulder, pinning her to whatever ground there was and ripped her clothes away. "GET THE FUCK OFF OF HER! GET AWAY FROM HER! YOU BASTARD! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU! GET AWAY FROM HER!" The sounds of her screams shook Arthur to the core. He looked away. He couldn't watch, but the sounds were enough to break him inside. He tugged and tugged at the restraints, but he couldn't do anything. He shouted to drown them out, but it did no good. And then, when it was all over, the man stood up and chuckled that devil's laugh.

"She's a warm little bitch, isn't she, boss?" said the murderer. "Don't worry, she'll be even more beautiful and she won't feel anything anymore, just like you pay for her to be." He grabbed Aashiyana by her hair and pulled her up off the floor as she tried to claw him away from her. The knife sliced her throat too easily. It was as though she were made of nothing but paper. Her blood poured down over her from as she jerked and choked on her own blood. Arthur stared in horror as the man dropped her and then ripped her open from her neck down. He watched as the madman cut out her body parts and placed them around her like some bizarre, disturbing, disgusting piece of artwork before he turned her face toward Arthur. Her eyes were dead, the green around her pupils as lifeless as the rest of her black eyes.

And then she smiled.

Arthur screamed and fell out of bed. He scrambled for any place he could as tears streamed down his cheeks. When he ran into the wall nearest to his bed, he curled up on the floor and hid his face in his knees, covering his head with his arms as he sobbed uncontrollably. At some point he felt hands grasp a hold of his hot, feverish body and pull him back into bed, but Arthur wasn't sure nor did he care who. The cold, wet cloth on his neck didn't stay cold for very long. It didn't even stay cool. It warmed up too quickly in minutes and had to be turned over.

Bernard sighed and tried to calm Arthur down, but it was pretty useless. Arthur was a total wreck thanks to the fever. Whatever he had seen in his dreams had made him so. Until he was well again, Bernard was certain he would have to keep coming in to calm Arthur down from whatever nightmares plagued him. With that, Bernard kept a routine of coming in to check Arthur instead of letting one of the maids do the honors. Who knew what would happen if one caught him during one of these nightmarish episodes?