He lightly smacked his cheeks to keep alert. Calm. It was all working out. They’d leave, and he could safely do what he must to the tower and everyone in it. Given a whole night to deal with the issue, he’d leave nothing for them to find. He felt about for matches and a candlestick, lit them, and waved the men back down the dark corridor.

Thornhill gave a light laugh. “I do hope you’ll forgive the mishap and not write it up in your report. I plan to repair the system when I have the funds. They’re always limited, as you can imagine.”

“We won’t hold such a thing against your institution, Doctor.” The inspector tipped his hat. “Good day, sir.”

With scrapes of shoe soles and flaps of coats, the men descended into the darkness toward the waiting carriage. Thornhill exhaled a few quick breaths. They were leaving. Leaving. He itched to start, to run to that tower and take care of everything.

Soon.

But they stopped. Turned. Pointed at something toward the other side of the building. “Do you see that?”

“What? What is it?”

“Light. In that empty old tower.”

Thornhill jerked around to look and there it was—a tiny flame dancing about in a high window. The alienist ground his teeth. He pivoted back to the men, but he had no more words to offer. No more diversions. For all the locking up he’d done, all the patients he’d managed to control with cells and restraints, there was one thing those walls could not contain.

Light.

41

I am convinced that there are universal currents of Divine Thought vibrating the ether everywhere and that any who can feel these vibrations is inspired.

~Richard Wagner

I clutched my candle, staring into its tiny flame that lit up our cell.

Thank God for you, Dr. Turner.

I had cried out when the world went suddenly dark. I couldn’t help it. It had been so swift, so unexpected. Wails had come from all around, echoing against stone as if the dead were arising all at once and making an escape. The women in my cell made frantic little noises, shuffling around.

I clutched a pair of cold hands—Bridget’s or Rose’s, I suppose—and forced calm over my mind and body. It was all right. Just a malfunction of the lights. I was not alone, not in immediate danger, and this wasn’t the larder. Just darkness. Nothing to fear. Not really.

Then I’d felt something hard in my pocket. A memory had arrested me.

“So you never have to face the darkness.”