The address Paul had given him turned out to be a pleasantly old-fashioned building, with a businesslike facade and tinted front windows, but no name on the door. Daniel shouldered it open and lurched into the lobby. The great open space was saved from a natural gloom by bright shafts of light streaming in through the higher windows. A gleaming parquet floor smelled as though it had been waxed extremely recently, and Daniel was careful to watch his footing as he slowly crossed the wide-open expanse. There was no reception desk, and no one to be seen anywhere. There wasn’t even any background music. He ended up before a long list of company names, scrolling proudly down a wood-paneled wall, and right there at the top in dignified gold leaf was: Jekyll & Hyde Inc. There was nothing to indicate what the company’s actual business might be . . . but it wasn’t as though he had anywhere else to go.
Daniel took the elevator to the top floor, and wondered all the way up what he was getting himself into. How could Jekyll & Hyde Inc. possibly help him, when all the doctors had given up? Being offered hope again was almost worse than doing without. It hurt more. And what was he going to say to these people? That he’d been told to come and see them by a dead man? No, worse than that—by an undead man . . . The lift doors finally slid open to reveal a long, empty corridor, and Daniel limped stubbornly down it until he came to the door with the right name. He stopped for a moment, to get his breathing back under control, and then braced himself and knocked loudly. A polite voice called for him to enter, and he opened the door onto a comfortably welcoming reception area.
Thick carpeting, pleasant but uncontroversial art on the walls, and a middle-aged but determinedly glamorous secretary sitting behind a desk, intent on her computer. Daniel did his best to walk normally as he approached her, barely leaning on his stick at all, though the effort brought beads of sweat popping out on his forehead. The secretary in the ruffled blouse and very smart jacket looked up and smiled at Daniel as though there was nothing out of the ordinary about him; a small politeness for which he was quietly grateful.
“Daniel Carter,” he said. “I believe I’m expected.”
He waited for her to consult some long and impressive list of appointments, and then inform him politely but firmly that his name wasn’t on it. And then he’d have no choice but to turn and walk away, back to his cold little flat and his life full of nothing. But the secretary didn’t even consult her computer, just nodded immediately.
“Of course, Mister Carter. We weren’t sure when we should expect you. Please go straight in. Mr. Hyde has been looking forward to meeting you.”
Daniel wanted to raise an eyebrow at such a casual use of the name, but he kept his face carefully impassive. If they wanted to follow the joke all the way, let them. The secretary didn’t even call through to announce him, just nodded at the door behind her and then returned to her work.
Daniel didn’t knock this time, for his pride’s sake. He just opened the door and strode in, banging his stick down hard as though to announce himself. The office was comfortably old-fashioned, designed to reassure a client that this was a place where professional work could be expected. Shelves were packed with leather-bound volumes, the usual flowers leaned resignedly in vases, and the gleaming mahogany desk was a definite antique. A single visitor’s chair had been positioned invitingly in front of it. And then Daniel got his first shock, as the man behind the desk got up and came forward to greet him.
Mister Hyde didn’t so much as stride as swagger, his every movement radiating vicious strength and brutal authority. Although he was barely medium height he had wide shoulders and a barrel chest, and his every movement put such a strain on his suit’s expensive material that Daniel almost expected him to burst right out of it. Mister Hyde moved like a man ready to walk right through anything the world could put in his way. His face was unashamedly ugly, with a pronounced bone structure, a low brow, thick dark hair, and deep-set, ice-blue eyes.
Just looking at Mister Hyde made Daniel want to hit him. There was a cold and crafty menace to the man, of evil not just acknowledged but embraced, and barely held in check. Just the look in those awful feral eyes was enough to make Daniel’s skin crawl. The look of a man who had done terrible things, and exulted in them. Something about him reminded Daniel of the hulking creatures he’d fought in the cellar underneath the bookstore—but Hyde was so much worse. Like something so vicious, so foul, it should never have been allowed to exist. As though Hyde bore proudly on his brow the mark of Cain—the Mark of the Beast.
He crashed to a halt before Daniel and grinned fiercely at him, recognizing everything Daniel was feeling and savoring it. He thrust out a huge hand and Daniel made himself shake it, even though he just knew Hyde could crush all the bones in his hand to splinters, if he felt like it. But the handshake turned out to be calculatedly brief, and when Daniel pulled his hand back, Hyde’s eyes were full of a terrible silent laughter.
“I am Edward Hyde, founder and sole head of Jekyll & Hyde Inc. My name, for all the world to see. Because I’m a great believer in hiding in plain sight. Call me Edward. Now sit down before you fall down.”
His voice was deep and harsh, and edged with a caustic mockery, as though everything in the world was only there for him to laugh at. He turned away abruptly and stomped back to sit behind his desk again. Daniel lowered himself carefully into the visitor’s chair, priding himself on not letting out a single groan.
“Edward Hyde?” he said finally, when he was sure he could trust his voice. “Like in the movies?”
“Exactly so,” said Edward, grinning unpleasantly. “I am the monster inside every man; the face most people never dare to show the world. And I love it.”
Daniel took a moment to think about that. Edward stared at him unblinkingly, and rather than meet that stare and perhaps fail to, Daniel gave all his attention to Edward’s desk. There was nothing on it apart from two photos in old-fashioned silver frames. He expected to see the usual shots of wife and family, but instead they were faded images of two men in Victorian clothes, captured in the stiff unsmiling poses of the period.
“The scrawny fellow on the left is Dr. Jekyll,” said Edward. “The one on the right is his friend and lawyer, Utterson.”
Daniel looked at him sharply. “In the original version, Utterson was the narrator. Are you saying the story was based on real people?”
“Oh yes,” said Edward. “Though of course the author found it necessary to change a lot of the details. To protect the guilty.”
“So Dr. Jekyll’s potion . . . ”
“Was real.”
“That part of the story never did make sense to me,” said Daniel. “Why would the good and saintly Dr. Jekyll want to take a potion he knew would turn him into someone utterly evil?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” said Edward. “Perhaps he saw it as releasing the potential in him. To be strong, instead of weak.”
“So, what relation are you, to the original Mr. Hyde?” Daniel said politely.
Edward’s grin widened. “I am the original Mr. Hyde. I am what the potion created, still alive after all these years and stronger than ever. Now . . . if I told anyone else that, they’d think I was crazy. But you’ve already seen your fair share of monsters, haven’t you?”
Daniel thought of Paul, and the horrors in the cellar, and nodded slowly.
“I’ve read your official file,” said Edward. “Passed on to me by one of my contacts inside the force. I have people everywhere . . . Your story made for fascinating reading. Someone who’d been broken by contact with the underworld of monsters, but hadn’t let that beat him.”