Primeval fic: Bathed By Blood (16/16)
Jun. 22nd, 2012 10:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
knitekatTitle: Bathed By Blood (16/16)
Author: knitekat
Word Count: ~3170 (of a total ~47955)
Characters: James Lester, Tom Ryan and a cast of RPs, OCs and OHs.
Pairing: James Lester/Tom Ryan
Rating: 18
Disclaimer: Primeval belongs to Impossible Pictures. Certainly not me. Writing for fun and will replace.
A/N 1: Part of my AU Bloodverse series. Final part, continues from Part 15.
A/N 2: Contains details of historical fact, several individuals in the fic are based on real historical people.
A/N 3: Thanks go to Fred for the beta. Cheers, m'dear.
Warnings: Dark!fic, bloodplay, blood and gore in general (graphic descriptions), angst, hurt/comfort.
I spent the days that followed scouring the maps of London, Whitechapel in particular as I felt the killer would return to his normal hunting ground – the overcrowded and crooked streets of the East End. I had already dismissed that his victim would be one of the many flower girls who sold flowers on every corner for a pittance. No, his victims had been prostitutes and I saw no reason for him to target another group, even if I still had no knowledge of why he was targeting them. Ideas maybe, but I had no firm evidence to prove any of them... and until I did, they were irrelevant and would be as likely to lead me further from the killer's identity as they would to his door.
I had a few possibilities of where he might strike again, Covent Garden Market – where the flower girls obtained their wares – and Flower and Dean Street were amongst them. Those gave me the flower part of the riddle, but what of the fair queen in her court? I saw no royal connection and felt it must be a clue to the victim herself, was it her name? Victoria? Elizabeth? Mary, even? I closed me eyes, how was I supposed to figure that part of the riddle out in time?
I pulled out the files on all the previous victims and tried to figure out any connection between them, anything at all. Places they lived, people they knew, even there the various names they went by.
I groaned as I straightened several hours later with nothing to show for my time except a migraine and an unwanted in-depth knowledge of the lifestyles of prostitutes in the East End. As far as I could tell the victims had no connection to each other, none except that they were prostitutes and I was no closer to stopping the next murder than when I had started.
A smart rap on the door had me look up and I quirked an eyebrow as Becker entered with a tray. The enticing smell of some of Hattie's finest comfort foods wafted towards me and I must admit I began to drool in anticipation. The bottle of finest 18-year old was also most welcome and I savoured its smell once Becker had poured a glass. “Was there anything else, Becker?”
“You have a message from My Lord, Sir James.” Becker almost muttered, which was most unlike him and my other eyebrow rose. He cleared his throat under my gaze before adding, “Hattie waylaid me, sir. She will give you the letter once you have eaten your meal.”
I was not sure whether to laugh or curse at Hattie's actions, she was determined to look after me and it did not matter to her that I was several centuries her senior. In the end amusement won and I chuckled. “Very well, Becker. Tell Hattie I will be a good boy. She can bring the message when she collects the tray.”
“Very good, sir.” I could see Becker's relief as he left me alone with my thoughts as I eagerly consumed my repast, licking my fingers clean as I sought every morsel. It was absolutely divine.
Hattie was not at all repentant when she came for the tray. Indeed one could say she was almost impertinent as she quickly checked for uneaten food. “I'm only not checking more thoroughly as I know how much you love them.” She grinned at me as she continued, “After all, you are always on at me to make them for you.”
I snorted. Yes, I actually snorted. It was most ungentlemanly for such a sound to escape my lips. Although I must admit my eyes were no doubt alight with glee when she handed me another of her masterpieces. I sighed in satisfaction as the taste exploded in my mouth, so light, so creamy, so divine. My only problem came when I finished it and realised with some dismay that with an audience present I would have to wipe my fingers clean.
Hattie rolled her eyes fondly at me. “Lick them, sir. I will not tell.” She even turned her back so I would have privacy and I made the most of it. Licking and sucking every finger as I sought every last trace and sighing with pleasure. She handed me a wet cloth to clean the last remaining stickiness from my hands before presenting me with My Lord's message.
I stared at it for a moment before I reached out for it. I had actually forgotten it in the pleasure of consuming my treat. “Thank you, Hattie. You may leave me now.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hattie gathered the tray up and was almost at the door when I cleared my throat. “By any chance, did you make more?”
Hattie smiled as she shook her head fondly at me. “Like a little boy with his sweets, you are, sir. I'll make some more for you tomorrow.”
I was in a good mood as I turned to My Lord's message and knew that had been Hattie's intention. She was a treasure and I had no idea how I would replace her in years to come. But, back to current business: I carefully slit the letter open with my letter opener before reading the contents. I allowed my head to lull back as I smiled softly.
My Lord was as good as his word and had provided several trusted vampires to watch the potential hunting ground of the killer. A mixture of his own Line and Hrothgar's, none possessed the ability to dominate and thus could not be the killer.
Even though it was a rainy and rather cold morning, I had myself and Ryan moving from area to area in the hope that I would notice something that would pinpoint the scene of tonight's murder. So far, I was none the wiser and had paused in a low quality coffee shop on Flower and Dean Street to peruse a map of Whitechapel once more. Ryan had brought each of us a coffee and I was trying not to cringe at the taste. I glanced up as he slid a plate in front of me and I found myself staring at the hot bun, gently steaming in the morning chill.
“James?” Ryan's voice was low but anxious.
I was a bloody fool. My disgusting coffee gratefully ignored as I scoured the map once more. My finger tracing the names of streets, yards and other captions as I sought the name I had look at many times over the last few days but had never really seen. I finally found it and breathed in relief as it was not far from our current location. But, the question remained, was I correct in my reasoning and if I was, would we still be too late to stop the crime?
“Come, Ryan.” I stood up abruptly and left the coffee shop and our abandoned breakfast with a confused and worried Ryan on my heels. I wasted little time as I strolled as fast as I could without gaining undue attention from the crowds that still filled the area, even on a morning such as this.
“Sire?”
Ryan's worried voice had me pause for an instant before I beckoned for him to walk beside me. “I had a sudden thought on the riddle's answer, my dearest Ryan. It was the bun you brought.”
“Sire?” Ryan's voice had grown even more worried and I had the sudden realisation he thought I was having another funny turn.
“I am perfectly fine, Ryan. I suddenly realised that the word 'flower' could, in fact, be 'flour',” When Ryan shot me another concerned glance, I quickly explained myself to him. “The Seer may not have meant flower, as in a blossom, my dearest Ryan. She might have meant flour as in bread.”
“I am afraid I still do not understand.”
I smiled at the puzzlement in Ryan's voice as I explained as we hurried along Commercial Street. “I have looked at that map so many times, Ryan, and have seen the site we seek but have not realised it. Miller's Court, Ryan. Do you not see, Ryan, she meant Miller's Court.”
“Flour as in a miller? Are you sure, my sire?”
“It would give the royal connection we seek.” I sighed and shook my head. “But, no, I am not. That is why only we are investigating. I can not risk him striking elsewhere if I am wrong.”
We hurried passed side streets on both sides before I located the one I wanted. “This is it! Dorset Street. Miller's Court lies off it.”
“Miller's Court is on which side, sire?” Ryan's voice was low and meant for my ears alone.
I was pleased that Ryan trusted my judgement – even though I had given him reason to doubt it on this business – and I paused in thought for an instant. “I believe it is on the north side, Ryan. Most probably access is via a narrow passageway.”
“I will be watchful.”
Ryan murmured as he looked around and I knew he looked out of place when a group of three men stopped talking and watched us pass. I had little doubt they would follow us, thinking we were easy marks but I could do little about that except warn Ryan to be careful.
“Keep your wits about you, Ryan, this place is of ill-repute.” I had heard tales of this street in my investigations, for it was considered one of the most notorious and dangerous streets in all of Whitecapel. Indeed, the police only entered it in pairs and only if absolutely necessary. I could see why, it was short, narrow and mean, lined with cheap lodging and doss houses. All in all, it was a most disreputable place for some of the poorest inhabitants of our great city, and I had little doubt that the criminally-minded also dwelt here, eager to fall upon their prey if the slightest weakness was detected. As we entered the street, I caught sight of several more groups of men smoking evil-smelling pipes in the doorways, as thin rag-clothed urchins of various ages kicked some unidentified object about and a bawling babe lay in a side passage seemingly exhausted from crying. Shouting and the sound of fists striking flesh came from one side and I spied a fight spill onto the street, the urchins immediately abandoning their game to gather and watch. I hurried on as I had no wish to be involved in any brawl, although if I was lucky, the brawl would detain our three unwelcome followers.
As we continued down the street, with the sounds of fighting continuing behind us, I spied a shadowy figure slipping from a narrow gash in the bricks. Something about him was familiar and the rank smell of blood and viscera drifted towards me. He started as he saw us before turning and running faster than a mortal man could move. As I gave chase with Ryan only steps behind me, I cursed myself that my revelation over the riddle had come too late to save his victim.
He put on a fair turn of speed and managed to tip several obstacles in our path, causing me to leap over them, although Ryan stumbled and lost ground. I could not worry about him for I could not afford to lose the killer.
Several horses neighed in fear and men and women shivered and crossed themselves as we sped by, mere blurs to them and soon forgotten as gin-soaked nightmares. The killer led me on a merry chase through the twisting and narrow street and lanes of Whitechapel and it was clear he knew this area well. Far better than I as I stumbled over the uneven ground he had not.
He was clever or lucky or both, as his path did not take him near any of the vampires placed to help catch him. I had little doubt that if he could not soon lose me that I would bring him to bay, although who would be the hunter and who the prey was another matter. I knew that fight would be bloody as this rabid vampire was at least as old as I. If Ryan could but catch me up or another vampire crossed our paths I might have a slight advantage, but I had little hope of that.
My opponent knocked over a barrel of apples onto the street and I lost valuable moments as I had to slow to retain my footing. I increased my pace as soon as I was past that obstacle, plunging somewhat foolhardily around another corner... and skidded to a stop. He was nowhere in sight. I looked both ways and could see neither him nor any where he could have darted to lose me. Damnation. If I lost him now I feared I would never catch him.
I looked up at the sound of boots hitting slate and saw my quarry. He had taken to the rooftops and I raced up the nearest stairs to follow him. He had gained another advantage on me and I was somewhat reckless in my jumping. I hurled over a gap and felt my boots slip on the rain-slicked slates. As I scrabbled for purchase I felt several slates shift beneath my feet before they crashed into the street below to the angry yell of some passing man. I had little time to worry about him as I felt myself sliding towards the roof edge and desperately flailed for grip; if I fell I would certainly lose my prey. Finally my fingertips gain purchase and I held on grimly until I found my footing. I cursed myself for having lost valuable time in my rush and proceeded somewhat slower. Although not by much as I merely paused to consider each jump before I hurled myself through the void.
I plunged on into the night and sped around a chimney only to stop in shock. A strange light hung in the air. It looked like fragments of a shattered mirror suspended in mid-air. I had never seen such a sight before and could not help wonder at its portent.
My quarry came into sight from behind a stack of chimneys and moved towards it with purpose, almost with foreknowledge of its meaning. I called out for him to stop. Even though I had little hope he would. He stopped and turned towards me, the flickering light behind him throwing his shadowy features into monstrous relief.
“You can not stop me, James. No one can.”
I froze as I recognised his voice. The voice of a vampire I had long considered a friend. I couldn't believe my ears that it was him, that he was the blood-soaked killer I had hunted so diligently. How could he be? Dr John Hunter was a good man. I knew he had a surgery where he tended to the needs of the poor. How could such a philanthropist and man of medicine have committed those gruesome murders? Hunter bowed mockingly to me and then, with a jaunty wave, he stepped backwards into those spinning shards. His form distorted by them and then... he was gone.
I stood still for a heartbeat longer before I recovered from my paralysis. I threw caution to the wind as I hurried to follow him to... I had no idea but I just knew that shattered mirror led somewhere. I was barely yards from it when the light flared and died, winking out as if it had never existed and taking the Whitechapel killer with it.
I slumped against a nearby chimney, my mind a whirl from what I had just witnessed. As the first pale light on the horizon heralded dawn my mind turned to Ryan, I had no idea where he was. I could only hope that he had returned home when he realised he had lost us. I hoped he had, for knowing Ryan he would stay and look for me. I would have to look for him... I paused as I looked around, of course, I would have to figure out where I was first.
In the end I made for home, the sun had risen and Ryan would be either there or holed up somewhere in Whitechapel. My relief when I entered my home and found Ryan within was indescribable. I gladly soaked the layer of dirt from my skin before I joined Ryan in our bed. Just to lie exhausted in his arms. Exhausted and confused even as my mind churned over tonight's events as it screamed 'Why?'
I had received the report on the fifth murder, the fifth, and I knew, the final one. I had neither the wish nor the need to read it. It sat on my desk for two days before I opened it. I know not if it was some attempt to understand why Hunter, for he no longer deserved the title of Doctor, had murdered or in penitence for not stopping him, but I read every word. What he had done to that young woman was beyond horror and madness, the body lain out as if a sacrifice or offering to some dark god.
I found myself pacing my study as I sought to make sense of the events of the last three months. Something still did not fit. Something felt wrong, I could sense it. Even if I could not tell what it was. Oh, I had little doubt I now knew the identity of Jack the Ripper, but it made no sense. Why had he committed those terrible crimes? Was Jack truly his Hyde or... I knew not what to think. Did the man I had known for so many years still exist or had Jack completely supplanted him? I doubted I would ever know what had driven him to such madness and savagery.
I sighed deeply and poured myself a glass of an exquisite 21-year-old from my estate. At least the Council had been pleased by my news that the Ripper had left our city. What vexed me was their reaction to how he had left, or rather, their lack of reaction. I couldn't help the suspicion that they had already known of the shattered mirror before I had mentioned it, although I knew better then to ask.
As I sipped from my glass, even the excellent 21-year-old couldn't break through my thoughts. I had the horrid feeling that the light I had witnessed was a portal, to some other place, maybe to some other time. If it was, God help anyone on the other side of that portal. God help them, for Jack would not.
Author: knitekat
Word Count: ~3170 (of a total ~47955)
Characters: James Lester, Tom Ryan and a cast of RPs, OCs and OHs.
Pairing: James Lester/Tom Ryan
Rating: 18
Disclaimer: Primeval belongs to Impossible Pictures. Certainly not me. Writing for fun and will replace.
A/N 1: Part of my AU Bloodverse series. Final part, continues from Part 15.
A/N 2: Contains details of historical fact, several individuals in the fic are based on real historical people.
A/N 3: Thanks go to Fred for the beta. Cheers, m'dear.
Warnings: Dark!fic, bloodplay, blood and gore in general (graphic descriptions), angst, hurt/comfort.
I spent the days that followed scouring the maps of London, Whitechapel in particular as I felt the killer would return to his normal hunting ground – the overcrowded and crooked streets of the East End. I had already dismissed that his victim would be one of the many flower girls who sold flowers on every corner for a pittance. No, his victims had been prostitutes and I saw no reason for him to target another group, even if I still had no knowledge of why he was targeting them. Ideas maybe, but I had no firm evidence to prove any of them... and until I did, they were irrelevant and would be as likely to lead me further from the killer's identity as they would to his door.
I had a few possibilities of where he might strike again, Covent Garden Market – where the flower girls obtained their wares – and Flower and Dean Street were amongst them. Those gave me the flower part of the riddle, but what of the fair queen in her court? I saw no royal connection and felt it must be a clue to the victim herself, was it her name? Victoria? Elizabeth? Mary, even? I closed me eyes, how was I supposed to figure that part of the riddle out in time?
I pulled out the files on all the previous victims and tried to figure out any connection between them, anything at all. Places they lived, people they knew, even there the various names they went by.
I groaned as I straightened several hours later with nothing to show for my time except a migraine and an unwanted in-depth knowledge of the lifestyles of prostitutes in the East End. As far as I could tell the victims had no connection to each other, none except that they were prostitutes and I was no closer to stopping the next murder than when I had started.
A smart rap on the door had me look up and I quirked an eyebrow as Becker entered with a tray. The enticing smell of some of Hattie's finest comfort foods wafted towards me and I must admit I began to drool in anticipation. The bottle of finest 18-year old was also most welcome and I savoured its smell once Becker had poured a glass. “Was there anything else, Becker?”
“You have a message from My Lord, Sir James.” Becker almost muttered, which was most unlike him and my other eyebrow rose. He cleared his throat under my gaze before adding, “Hattie waylaid me, sir. She will give you the letter once you have eaten your meal.”
I was not sure whether to laugh or curse at Hattie's actions, she was determined to look after me and it did not matter to her that I was several centuries her senior. In the end amusement won and I chuckled. “Very well, Becker. Tell Hattie I will be a good boy. She can bring the message when she collects the tray.”
“Very good, sir.” I could see Becker's relief as he left me alone with my thoughts as I eagerly consumed my repast, licking my fingers clean as I sought every morsel. It was absolutely divine.
Hattie was not at all repentant when she came for the tray. Indeed one could say she was almost impertinent as she quickly checked for uneaten food. “I'm only not checking more thoroughly as I know how much you love them.” She grinned at me as she continued, “After all, you are always on at me to make them for you.”
I snorted. Yes, I actually snorted. It was most ungentlemanly for such a sound to escape my lips. Although I must admit my eyes were no doubt alight with glee when she handed me another of her masterpieces. I sighed in satisfaction as the taste exploded in my mouth, so light, so creamy, so divine. My only problem came when I finished it and realised with some dismay that with an audience present I would have to wipe my fingers clean.
Hattie rolled her eyes fondly at me. “Lick them, sir. I will not tell.” She even turned her back so I would have privacy and I made the most of it. Licking and sucking every finger as I sought every last trace and sighing with pleasure. She handed me a wet cloth to clean the last remaining stickiness from my hands before presenting me with My Lord's message.
I stared at it for a moment before I reached out for it. I had actually forgotten it in the pleasure of consuming my treat. “Thank you, Hattie. You may leave me now.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hattie gathered the tray up and was almost at the door when I cleared my throat. “By any chance, did you make more?”
Hattie smiled as she shook her head fondly at me. “Like a little boy with his sweets, you are, sir. I'll make some more for you tomorrow.”
I was in a good mood as I turned to My Lord's message and knew that had been Hattie's intention. She was a treasure and I had no idea how I would replace her in years to come. But, back to current business: I carefully slit the letter open with my letter opener before reading the contents. I allowed my head to lull back as I smiled softly.
****
My Lord was as good as his word and had provided several trusted vampires to watch the potential hunting ground of the killer. A mixture of his own Line and Hrothgar's, none possessed the ability to dominate and thus could not be the killer.
Even though it was a rainy and rather cold morning, I had myself and Ryan moving from area to area in the hope that I would notice something that would pinpoint the scene of tonight's murder. So far, I was none the wiser and had paused in a low quality coffee shop on Flower and Dean Street to peruse a map of Whitechapel once more. Ryan had brought each of us a coffee and I was trying not to cringe at the taste. I glanced up as he slid a plate in front of me and I found myself staring at the hot bun, gently steaming in the morning chill.
“James?” Ryan's voice was low but anxious.
I was a bloody fool. My disgusting coffee gratefully ignored as I scoured the map once more. My finger tracing the names of streets, yards and other captions as I sought the name I had look at many times over the last few days but had never really seen. I finally found it and breathed in relief as it was not far from our current location. But, the question remained, was I correct in my reasoning and if I was, would we still be too late to stop the crime?
“Come, Ryan.” I stood up abruptly and left the coffee shop and our abandoned breakfast with a confused and worried Ryan on my heels. I wasted little time as I strolled as fast as I could without gaining undue attention from the crowds that still filled the area, even on a morning such as this.
“Sire?”
Ryan's worried voice had me pause for an instant before I beckoned for him to walk beside me. “I had a sudden thought on the riddle's answer, my dearest Ryan. It was the bun you brought.”
“Sire?” Ryan's voice had grown even more worried and I had the sudden realisation he thought I was having another funny turn.
“I am perfectly fine, Ryan. I suddenly realised that the word 'flower' could, in fact, be 'flour',” When Ryan shot me another concerned glance, I quickly explained myself to him. “The Seer may not have meant flower, as in a blossom, my dearest Ryan. She might have meant flour as in bread.”
“I am afraid I still do not understand.”
I smiled at the puzzlement in Ryan's voice as I explained as we hurried along Commercial Street. “I have looked at that map so many times, Ryan, and have seen the site we seek but have not realised it. Miller's Court, Ryan. Do you not see, Ryan, she meant Miller's Court.”
“Flour as in a miller? Are you sure, my sire?”
“It would give the royal connection we seek.” I sighed and shook my head. “But, no, I am not. That is why only we are investigating. I can not risk him striking elsewhere if I am wrong.”
We hurried passed side streets on both sides before I located the one I wanted. “This is it! Dorset Street. Miller's Court lies off it.”
“Miller's Court is on which side, sire?” Ryan's voice was low and meant for my ears alone.
I was pleased that Ryan trusted my judgement – even though I had given him reason to doubt it on this business – and I paused in thought for an instant. “I believe it is on the north side, Ryan. Most probably access is via a narrow passageway.”
“I will be watchful.”
Ryan murmured as he looked around and I knew he looked out of place when a group of three men stopped talking and watched us pass. I had little doubt they would follow us, thinking we were easy marks but I could do little about that except warn Ryan to be careful.
“Keep your wits about you, Ryan, this place is of ill-repute.” I had heard tales of this street in my investigations, for it was considered one of the most notorious and dangerous streets in all of Whitecapel. Indeed, the police only entered it in pairs and only if absolutely necessary. I could see why, it was short, narrow and mean, lined with cheap lodging and doss houses. All in all, it was a most disreputable place for some of the poorest inhabitants of our great city, and I had little doubt that the criminally-minded also dwelt here, eager to fall upon their prey if the slightest weakness was detected. As we entered the street, I caught sight of several more groups of men smoking evil-smelling pipes in the doorways, as thin rag-clothed urchins of various ages kicked some unidentified object about and a bawling babe lay in a side passage seemingly exhausted from crying. Shouting and the sound of fists striking flesh came from one side and I spied a fight spill onto the street, the urchins immediately abandoning their game to gather and watch. I hurried on as I had no wish to be involved in any brawl, although if I was lucky, the brawl would detain our three unwelcome followers.
As we continued down the street, with the sounds of fighting continuing behind us, I spied a shadowy figure slipping from a narrow gash in the bricks. Something about him was familiar and the rank smell of blood and viscera drifted towards me. He started as he saw us before turning and running faster than a mortal man could move. As I gave chase with Ryan only steps behind me, I cursed myself that my revelation over the riddle had come too late to save his victim.
He put on a fair turn of speed and managed to tip several obstacles in our path, causing me to leap over them, although Ryan stumbled and lost ground. I could not worry about him for I could not afford to lose the killer.
Several horses neighed in fear and men and women shivered and crossed themselves as we sped by, mere blurs to them and soon forgotten as gin-soaked nightmares. The killer led me on a merry chase through the twisting and narrow street and lanes of Whitechapel and it was clear he knew this area well. Far better than I as I stumbled over the uneven ground he had not.
He was clever or lucky or both, as his path did not take him near any of the vampires placed to help catch him. I had little doubt that if he could not soon lose me that I would bring him to bay, although who would be the hunter and who the prey was another matter. I knew that fight would be bloody as this rabid vampire was at least as old as I. If Ryan could but catch me up or another vampire crossed our paths I might have a slight advantage, but I had little hope of that.
My opponent knocked over a barrel of apples onto the street and I lost valuable moments as I had to slow to retain my footing. I increased my pace as soon as I was past that obstacle, plunging somewhat foolhardily around another corner... and skidded to a stop. He was nowhere in sight. I looked both ways and could see neither him nor any where he could have darted to lose me. Damnation. If I lost him now I feared I would never catch him.
I looked up at the sound of boots hitting slate and saw my quarry. He had taken to the rooftops and I raced up the nearest stairs to follow him. He had gained another advantage on me and I was somewhat reckless in my jumping. I hurled over a gap and felt my boots slip on the rain-slicked slates. As I scrabbled for purchase I felt several slates shift beneath my feet before they crashed into the street below to the angry yell of some passing man. I had little time to worry about him as I felt myself sliding towards the roof edge and desperately flailed for grip; if I fell I would certainly lose my prey. Finally my fingertips gain purchase and I held on grimly until I found my footing. I cursed myself for having lost valuable time in my rush and proceeded somewhat slower. Although not by much as I merely paused to consider each jump before I hurled myself through the void.
I plunged on into the night and sped around a chimney only to stop in shock. A strange light hung in the air. It looked like fragments of a shattered mirror suspended in mid-air. I had never seen such a sight before and could not help wonder at its portent.
My quarry came into sight from behind a stack of chimneys and moved towards it with purpose, almost with foreknowledge of its meaning. I called out for him to stop. Even though I had little hope he would. He stopped and turned towards me, the flickering light behind him throwing his shadowy features into monstrous relief.
“You can not stop me, James. No one can.”
I froze as I recognised his voice. The voice of a vampire I had long considered a friend. I couldn't believe my ears that it was him, that he was the blood-soaked killer I had hunted so diligently. How could he be? Dr John Hunter was a good man. I knew he had a surgery where he tended to the needs of the poor. How could such a philanthropist and man of medicine have committed those gruesome murders? Hunter bowed mockingly to me and then, with a jaunty wave, he stepped backwards into those spinning shards. His form distorted by them and then... he was gone.
I stood still for a heartbeat longer before I recovered from my paralysis. I threw caution to the wind as I hurried to follow him to... I had no idea but I just knew that shattered mirror led somewhere. I was barely yards from it when the light flared and died, winking out as if it had never existed and taking the Whitechapel killer with it.
I slumped against a nearby chimney, my mind a whirl from what I had just witnessed. As the first pale light on the horizon heralded dawn my mind turned to Ryan, I had no idea where he was. I could only hope that he had returned home when he realised he had lost us. I hoped he had, for knowing Ryan he would stay and look for me. I would have to look for him... I paused as I looked around, of course, I would have to figure out where I was first.
In the end I made for home, the sun had risen and Ryan would be either there or holed up somewhere in Whitechapel. My relief when I entered my home and found Ryan within was indescribable. I gladly soaked the layer of dirt from my skin before I joined Ryan in our bed. Just to lie exhausted in his arms. Exhausted and confused even as my mind churned over tonight's events as it screamed 'Why?'
****
I had received the report on the fifth murder, the fifth, and I knew, the final one. I had neither the wish nor the need to read it. It sat on my desk for two days before I opened it. I know not if it was some attempt to understand why Hunter, for he no longer deserved the title of Doctor, had murdered or in penitence for not stopping him, but I read every word. What he had done to that young woman was beyond horror and madness, the body lain out as if a sacrifice or offering to some dark god.
I found myself pacing my study as I sought to make sense of the events of the last three months. Something still did not fit. Something felt wrong, I could sense it. Even if I could not tell what it was. Oh, I had little doubt I now knew the identity of Jack the Ripper, but it made no sense. Why had he committed those terrible crimes? Was Jack truly his Hyde or... I knew not what to think. Did the man I had known for so many years still exist or had Jack completely supplanted him? I doubted I would ever know what had driven him to such madness and savagery.
I sighed deeply and poured myself a glass of an exquisite 21-year-old from my estate. At least the Council had been pleased by my news that the Ripper had left our city. What vexed me was their reaction to how he had left, or rather, their lack of reaction. I couldn't help the suspicion that they had already known of the shattered mirror before I had mentioned it, although I knew better then to ask.
As I sipped from my glass, even the excellent 21-year-old couldn't break through my thoughts. I had the horrid feeling that the light I had witnessed was a portal, to some other place, maybe to some other time. If it was, God help anyone on the other side of that portal. God help them, for Jack would not.
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Date: 2012-06-22 10:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-06-23 06:28 pm (UTC)at least, he does laterThanks very much for reading.
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Date: 2012-06-23 01:16 am (UTC)Bravo!!
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Date: 2012-06-23 06:30 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading.
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Date: 2012-06-23 01:31 am (UTC)I'm really sorry it's over.
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Date: 2012-06-23 06:37 pm (UTC)I do have a few more ideas for the seriesno subject
Date: 2012-06-23 11:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-06-23 06:38 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading.
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Date: 2012-06-23 02:16 pm (UTC)Nice way of tying up this story of the murders, but leaving more for James still to investigate! :)
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Date: 2012-06-23 06:41 pm (UTC)Glad you liked the tying up and that James still has things to investigate.
Thanks for reading.
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Date: 2012-06-23 02:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-06-23 06:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-06-23 02:53 pm (UTC)*Applause and cheers*
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Date: 2012-06-23 07:11 pm (UTC)*bows*
Thanks for reading.
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Date: 2012-06-24 03:09 am (UTC)It's been fantastic
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Date: 2012-06-24 03:25 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading.
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Date: 2012-06-24 08:27 am (UTC)Superb atmosphere, thrill and set up.
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Date: 2012-06-24 03:27 pm (UTC)*blushs* Thanks for reading.
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Date: 2012-06-26 06:49 am (UTC)You've done a fantastic job in this of integrating the research seamlessly without info dumping, and the use of language has been fabulous all the way through.
*claps paws loudly*
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Date: 2012-06-26 06:47 pm (UTC)*blushes* I do worry about doing enough research and info dumps, and in this one, the dialects, so I've very happy to hear it worked.
*bows*
Thanks again for the beta/paw holding and for reading.