Arms stuck out like tree branches, searching for things to root themselves to. Or perhaps they were searching for a way out of this dank hell. Blackburn did not hold on to me or offer his arm, trusting I could fend for myself in this abysmal place.
Cries of tortured souls went up all around us, but we pressed on. The stench of unwashed bodies and chamber pots in desperate need of emptying was enough to turn my stomach inside out. The farther we sank into the asylum, the fouler the air became, until I was terrified of adding to the sickness surrounding us.
“This way,” Blackburn said, leading us down another bleak corridor.
My mind spun with uncontrollable thoughts. One of the most terrifying being how to explain my whereabouts to my aunt should Nathaniel return home before I did.
“It’s a bit farther,” Blackburn said over his shoulder, his footsteps clapping against the flooring as if a giant bell were tolling the hour during an otherwise silent night. “Criminals are kept in the heart of the beast.”
“How charming.” Chills struggled to unleash their demonic fury across my arms and back. I didn’t enjoy thinking of this place as a living, breathing organism, one containing anything akin to a heart.
Hearts usually conveyed compassion, and this place had long since lost that quality. The only beat keeping it going were wails of the damned. I didn’t know how Blackburn could stand frequenting a place like this without it tarnishing his own soul.
Inmates sobbed to themselves, speaking in made-up languages and screeching like animals in a menagerie. How my uncle was surviving this mess, I wasn’t sure, but he was a strong-minded man. If anyone could be thrown in Bedlam and come out sturdier, it was Uncle Jonathan. He probably found a way of studying different mold specimens growing in patches along the dank walls and floor.
The thought made me smile in the face of fear. That’s precisely what Uncle would do in this situation. He’d turn it into a giant experiment to pass the time, never realizing he was actually set inside against his will. I’d probably have to coax him to leave once the time came for it.
He’d say, “Arrested? Are you sure? Perhaps I might spend another day going over my findings first.”
Then I’d tell him why that wasn’t a good idea, and he’d throw a fit. Once he was invested in an experiment, nothing else mattered.
We walked as quickly as we dared, but I still spied broken men pacing in their cages, looking as feral as panthers. These men were different from the insane. There was a certain air of calculation in their fixed gazes. I didn’t want to think of what they could do to me if they were to escape, and sped up until I was practically tripping on Blackburn’s heels.
I focused on other things to occupy my mind. I was grateful Nathaniel had departed to speak with barristers prior to our excursion here. I hoped he was already finding ways of repealing Uncle’s arrest. He’d put his all into the finest details of the law, never surrendering until he found success.
Finally, we stopped in front of a cell that had only a few rusted bars set into solid stone near the top. Enough to pass food and water trays in, I assumed.
Blackburn removed the ring of keys from his belt—which were handed off from a watchman when we signed in—and motioned for me to stand back. He was a fool if he thought I’d be anywhere but right there when he unlocked the door. I couldn’t wait to see Uncle.
Superintendent Blackburn nodded as if he’d already predicted my response. “Suit yourself, then.”
With a creak and a groan that would wake things better off left sleeping, the cell swung open in a mocking gesture of welcome. Blackburn stepped back, allowing me to cross the threshold first. What a kind gentleman he was.
A horrid noise emanating from the shadows raised gooseflesh along my arms. Suppressing a flutter of panic, I marched into the lair of a scientist, where the haunting giggles of the newly insane greeted me, freezing at what I saw.
“What in the…” I hardly recognized the creature my uncle had become.
Crouching in the corner of his little stone cell, he rocked back and forth while unearthly laughter poured from cracked lips. An upturned jug of water sat beside him, having run dry a long time ago from the look of it.
“What has happened to him?” I grabbed on to the nearest bar, steadying myself against shock. How did he unravel so quickly? Surely he couldn’t have lost that much of his mind in just a few short weeks.
Something was very wrong. Blackburn said nothing.
When Uncle wasn’t cackling, he mumbled something too low for me to hear. Someone had only given him a thin shift to wear, and it was stained brown and yellow. What little food he’d been given had mostly ended up on his clothing.
“How anyone can treat a person this way is beyond my comprehension,” I snarled. “This is… this is beyond unacceptable, Mr. Blackburn.”
Satan himself must lord over these lost souls. I didn’t know what could be worse than Hell, or this place, but wished a thousand terrible deaths on the blackguards responsible for such cruelty. These were people and they deserved to be treated as such.
Grabbing a threadbare blanket from the floor, I shook it out, allowing dust motes to swirl in the pale light streaming in from the bars on the door. The cell was in the supposed heart of this place, yet there was a chill here that hadn’t been present in the humid corridor. I approached my uncle slowly, not wanting to startle him, but desperately curious to learn what he was repeatedly whispering.
The closer I got, the thicker the odor clung to molecules in the air. It smelled as though he hadn’t bathed in the last two weeks and was using the floor to relieve himself. I fought a bout of rising nausea. His blond mustache was long and unkempt, meeting new facial hair growth in haggard tangles. There was something strange about his eyes, apart from their unfocused, mad glaze. He looked terrified.
After draping the blanket around his shoulders, I knelt down, inspecting him closer. That’s when I noticed the upturned bowl of slop and strange consistency of it. My blood turned icy as the Thames in winter, freezing the rivers and tributaries of my veins in sickening waves. I’d kill whoever did this. I would slay the miserable beast so violently, I’d make our Whitechapel murderer seem like a harmless kitten playing with a ball of intestinal string once I was through with them.
“He’s been drugged.” I glared at Blackburn as if he had a personal hand in the matter. Which, since he’d arrested him, it could be argued he had.
He slowly crossed the room and crouched beside me, avoiding my accusing stare. It wasn’t uncommon for the so-called insane to be given tonics to calm their minds, but my uncle was neither insane nor in need of such medication.