Mad Bride of the Ripper Page 10

  “How can he be happy without his mum?

  “Plenty a man has lived without his mum and had a good life. Why, look at Renfield! Mister Renfield. Happy as a lamb, I am. Before the shearing, of course. Had me no mum, and that ain’t changed my spots for worse.”

  “I didn’t mean to give offence, Mister Renfield. Please? Please give me my boy back.”

  “No.” Firm. Tried being firm. Like ice. Like a knife. “No. Can’t be done.”

  “Then I must go to the police.”

  “The police?” He laughed. “A bargain was struck.”

  “I’ll tell them you stole him. Tell them you took him from me while I slept.”

  “Lies,” he hissed.

  “I don’t give a shit,” she whipped back, face twisting into ugly scowl. “I’ll tell them anything to get Arnold back. And, like you said, there were no papers signed!”

  “Ha. Gutter wench. Whore. Slag. Very well. His new mum must be told. Break her heart. Break her heart. But what does a selfish cow know about heart, eh? All hands out and take take take. That’s all. So, you want your boy to scavenge on the street and die of typhoid. Not my call. Not my concern. What’s your home?”

  “I’m at the workhouse just over the road. At Horace and Gray’s. Do you know it?”

  “Course I know it.”

  “Well, you can ask for me there. My name’s Lizzy. You can ask for me at the door. Lizzy Stride.”

  “Stride,” he snorted. “Big steps. Long legs for steps.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Fiery now she scented some hesitation in him.

  “Everything,” he said. Not quite bitter. Downed the last of his drink. “I’ll send a boy. He’ll tell you where to meet. And when.”

  “Soon! It must be soon.”

  “Of course. Shut your yap. Trap. Clap it shut. The well-to-do don’t like a fuss. You come down hard, they’ll squish you like a bug. If you’re lucky.”

  “I know.”

  “They might offer cash. More cash. If they like the tyke.”

  “I don’t want more money,” she said. But did her eyes gleam? “I just want my boy.”

  “Could be. Could be. I’ll have a word. Maybe his mum will want to meet. Mum to mum, like?”

  “Well, now I think about it, I don’t know I’d really like to after all…”

  “Course you would. Course you would. Only right you tell your side. Let her down real nice. You’ll yap to her. Real slow. Like you wanted. Mum to mum. She’ll understand then. Right? Won’t she? Ain’t right of you to just rip the babe from her arms when she’s gone and got herself all attached. You’ll make her cry another stream to the Thames. Thing like this ought to be done proper, you breaking your word like this and all. Bloody inconvenient for everyone, it is. Shouldn’t have come in the first place, should you?”

  The woman looked away, suddenly skittish. “I didn’t mean it, Mister Renfield. I just want Arnold back. That’s all.”

  “And you’ll have him. I said you’ll have him, didn’t I? But she paid a lot of money, she did. She’ll want to know why. She’s got a right to know why. And she won’t want to hear it from Mister Renfield now, would she? No. Won’t mean a cockroach from Mister Renfield. Not a cockroach.” His eyes never blinked. He leaned over her. Skeletal fingers twitching. “Bad things, cockroaches. Bad, bad things. Tasty? Sure. For sure. But we can’t talk here. Not anymore. Too foul in here. Air is dead. Like lumps of fog. Much better out there, you know. Out on the streets. Beautiful streets in Whitechapel. Especially now. Right now, Mister Renfield must take his leave. But you’ll hear from him real soon. You keep close to the door, won’t you? Real close.”

  She nodded. “I will. Would it help if I offered to pay her something? I mean, I don’t have much, Mister Renfield, but I’d give all I have. Every shilling.”

  “Well, that’s up to you. Up to you. Not up to me. Oh no, I got what I want. Out of my hands, woman. It’s out of my bloody hands, it is. Up to you now.” He lifted his hat to scratch at his forehead. “She’s a rich woman. Fine lady. All creams and perfumes. Laces and leathers. Fine woman. Not some tart. I doubt you’d have more than enough for a peppermint for the likes of her. But, you can try. Yes, you can.”

  The woman’s face ran a gauntlet of emotion.

  Insult and anger.

  Relief and hope.

  Settled on anxious. “I’ll put together what I have. And all I can do is be honest with her. Like you said, I’m sure she’ll understand.”

  “Yes. Yes, she will. Very nice mum she was. Very nice. Had the most beautiful smile you ever saw. And the whitest teeth.”

  “What was her name? So I know her?”

  “Name? Well, I calls her Mistress, I do. Lady like that ought to be given the right and proper respect, but her name’s Lucy.”

  “Lucy?”

  “Aye. And no, I won’t give you her family name. Don’t want you to cause a bother.”

  “I wouldn’t!”

  “Then there’s nothing to worry about, is there? Here nor there.”

  She watched him as he turned to leave. Then asked; “Is she a good woman, Mister Renfield? Truly? Does she love my little Arnold?”

  “Oh, yes, Miss Stride,” he called. “She loved him the instant she clapped eyes on the little bugger. Loved him and all, she did. It were a beautiful thing to watch, I tell you. Brought a right tear to my eye, it did. A right tear. Wet my cheeks and everything.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Lucy lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling.

  When she closed her eyes, she could see hordes of glittering lights swarming around her. Lights which twinkled and erupted and burst. Stars of cryptic madness. Each more delicious than the last.

  It tired her to reach for too many. To brush against the burning globes with a long sweep of her ethereal hand. But she couldn’t help it.

  Couldn’t help shuffling through the ocean of light until she found one which flushed brighter than the rest. One which needed very little effort to make it grow. Make it burn through the fragile curtain of its mind and expose the deranged soul writhing within.

  And then she’d watch.

  Watch as the hapless creature surrendered to wave after wave of crippling horror before being consumed entirely within the jaws of incandescent insanity.

  What would they do?

  Alone in the dark, she giggled.

  And reached for Adele Beryl Havelock, daughter of Major James Havelock.

  A man of war. A man of battle. Now on leave from a tour in India. His own mind was one of glittering light. But it was honed solely to violence. Solely to the thrill of spilling blood. Shards of glowing shrapnel swung in jittery orbit inside his brain. And, while she understood it, the girl’s mind was more exciting.

  Young Adele’s mind carried six globes of light huddling in the dark and sending out erratic pulses like desperate pleas for attention. Two larger than the others, with one looking to be bulging as it tried to escape an invisible prison. The orbiting globes had long lattice tails of light which reached but didn’t quite touch the others.

  Long forks of light jagged out from the globes like solar flares.

  Their twisted tale was one of strict upbringing and bouts of sexual abuse.

  Which is why Adele dreaded her father’s return.

  She was in her room. Blankets up over her face. Breathing the musty smell of her own breath. Warm. Heart racing in her chest.

  He’d hardly looked at her since he’d come home.

  But tonight, at dinner. He asked for her to fill his glass.

  She did.

  When he took it from her, his rough fingers brushed the back of her hand.

  She knew. Knew what he wanted.

  And inside, she shrivelled. Withered. She murmured an excuse of illness and left the room as quickly as she could. Knelt beside her bed. Hands clasped. Head bowed.

  Praying.

  Praying for a miracle.

  A miracle Lucy knew would never come.

&
nbsp; But he would.

  The vampire licked her lips as she saw the shadow of Major James creeping through the house. Moving toward Adele’s door. Testing the handle.

  Locked.

  But he had a key, and he used it. Smooth slide and cold click of metal.

  Entered the room with barely a whisper of sound.

  Yet, Adele heard him. Heard him as though all the devils of Hell were beating their drums in time to his every step.

  Squeezed her eyes shut.

  No point crying. He’d made that clear.

  No point fighting. He was too strong.

  No point screaming. There was no one else in the house. The servants had been dismissed. The cook given the night to return to her family instead of sleeping in the kitchen.

  It was just him.

  And her.

  And the chill of shadows crawling through the night.

  “Adele,” he whispered. “Adele, I missed you.”

  Gently pulled the covers down. Head lunged for her neck.

  A serpent.

  Lips clasped around her throat. But not to bite. To nuzzle. To lick. Taste salt-brushed skin.

  Lucy opened her mouth and lifted an arm.

  Reached.

  Deep into Adele’s frightened mind which was hissing and sparking.

  “Adele,” the vampire whispered. “Adele, can you hear me?”

  “Yes,” the girl moaned.

  That made him pause.

  She’d never said yes before.

  He snaked an arm around her body. Excitement making him tremble. “Good girl. I knew you wanted it. My beautiful darling girl.”

  Lucy chuckled. “Listen to me, Adele. Listen. I can set you free. Would you like to be free?”

  “Oh yes,” she whispered. “I want it so much.”

  Again, he paused.

  “And I’ll give it to you,” he said. Gruff. Raw. Hand tugging at his belt. Cheeks flushing red.

  “I want you to come to me, Adele. Tomorrow evening. Will you do that? If I free you now, will you come to me?”

  “Yes,” she moaned. “Anything.”

  The belt unclipped with a metal pop. And he shoved at his pants, wriggling his legs to get free. Hard and ready, he began to roll on top of her. Weight like stone.

  Lucy’s fingers closed around Adele’s frightened mind.

  And then the vampire exhaled.

  With her breath, the globes of light expanded. Flared. Shone bright enough it seemed to Lucy that the streets of London were turned to day.

  She giggled as Adele let out a shuddering gasp.

  A gasp he choked into; “My girl!”

  He grabbed her shoulders. Dropped fully down on top of her. Fumbling with her night dress. Hands. Spiders crawling up her legs.

  Spiders.

  Thick legs. Bristling with venom.

  Adele’s eyes flashed open.

  His neck was right over her face. Corded and strong. Body arching as he tried to angle himself into her. Tried to force his way through the layers of cloth. Not caring if he tore the cloth.

  He worked with frenzy, and she knew what usually came next.

  Knew the pain she would feel.

  Then the filth.

  The guilt.

  As he told her she was to blame for everything. It was all her fault and she must bear the shame in silence.

  His throat.

  Pulsing in the moonlight.

  Moonlight across his bristled chin. As though reflected on the backs of wolves. Wolves with fur so grey. Wolves whose howls she could hear in the distance of the void which surrounded her mind.

  They pulled themselves from the burning lights. Ran the lattice of arms reaching the globe whose struggles grew in strength as it tested its cage.

  Mouths open, they hunted. Eyes burning fierce. Fangs dripping sparks, they sprinted to the edge.

  Pounced across the dark divide, moonlight stripping their howls as they leapt the void.

  Terrible paws splayed.

  Claws curved and sharp.

  As they reached.

  Stillness consumed her. For a moment she saw hundreds of howling wolves hanging in the dark. Silent howls erupting from jaws spewing jagged fists of light.

  And the first touched the gelatinous skin of the broiling star.

  Second followed.

  Then a tidal wave of wolves snarling and snapping as they tore the layer which constrained her mind within a prison of sanity.

  Lucy screamed her laughter, whirling around the girl like a frenzied ghost. Her fingers caressing the girl’s cheeks.

  Terror squeezed Adele’s heart.

  But something else gnawed at her soul. Something more powerful.

  She blinked. Lost sight of the light and the darkness and the ravenous wolves.

  Lost the sound of the vampire’s laughter in her ears.

  Only one thing was real.

  His hands.

  Snatching her underwear.

  Tearing.

  Adele shrieked.

  A shriek of pure animal hate.

  The sound shocked him. “Quiet, you fucking-”

  His arm moved. Hand rising to clamp down across her mouth.

  But her mouth wasn’t there anymore. She’d already angled her head.

  And her scream died as her teeth snapped shut around the middle of his throat. There was no stopping the bite. Hard gnaw through skin and windpipe. She worried at the wound like a beast, tearing as he’d torn her so many times before.

  Snapping and snarling. Flood of hot blood spurting into her mouth.

  Down her chin.

  Soaking into sheets.

  He shoved her. Tried to pull himself off.

  But her legs wrapped round his hips. Her arms around his chest. Gagging and growling. Ripped and tore. Chunks of him filling her mouth as she chewed and chewed deeper into him.

  Swallowing blood. Swallowing flesh.

  The animal inside her roared with power. Eyes wide and shining bright with lust.

  Not the lust he’d come looking for.

  He spat and choked. Blood bubbled and hissed from the hole in his throat.

  Punched.

  Hard enough to split her forehead open as his knuckle glanced off her skull.

  Second time didn’t have the strength and his weak-clasped fist impacted limp into the soaked pillow beside her head.

  He rolled. Not on top of her.

  Off.

  Landed hard on the floorboards. A heavy thump made wet with blood.

  On his back.

  Body twitching and legs trembling a deathly code.

  She crawled off the bed and onto his chest. Fingers raking his bare chest.

  “Father,” she purred. “You taste so good. Isn’t that what you always wanted me to say? Give me more. More, father. Give it to me. You must give it to me. I want you to give me more!”

  Her fingers ripped into the wound in his neck, tearing chunks of flesh which she threw at the wall. Gobbets of viscera. Skin stretching as she pulled and clawed. Worked her way down across his shoulder and into his chest.

  Tearing him open. Fingers finding space between ribs. Wet crack of bone.

  He might have tried to speak.

  But no words ever came.

  She hunched over his face.

  Breathing hard.

  Bright lights swirling in her brain. Kicking at her mind. The wretched soul once tormented and trapped now ecstatic and wild. His face, eyes open in terror. In agony as he clung with stubborn shock to the last few threads of life.

  She laughed at him.

  Laughed at the look on his face. A face which had once inspired fear but now seemed utterly foolish.

  When his body was a mess of sodden meat over barely-hidden bone, she stood over him. Night dress torn and soaked completely through. Blood running off the hem and dripping around her bare feet.

  Could hear the laughter of Lucy like a bell in her mind. A bell tolling just for her, and she whirled in circles trying to find t
he source. “I can’t see you, Mistress! I can’t see you. It’s so dark!”

  “Oh, Adele. Don’t be silly. It’s never dark. Can’t you see the lights inside your mind? Can’t you see them?”

  “I can’t. Oh, Mistress, what have I done? Please help me. I’m so alone.”

  “Adele. My beautiful Adele. Look again and you’ll see. See the lights.”

  Adele blinked.

  Held her hands up in front of her face. Hands drooling thick blood. His blood.

  “Oh, Mistress! I see. I see it now! They’re beautiful…”

  “Come to me, Adele. Come.”

  “I will.”

  “And will you serve me?”

  “Yes, Mistress.” She dropped to her knees, tears of joy mingling with hot blood riddling down her face. “I’ll serve you forever.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  William Sloper. That’s the name he was born with.

  Might have been a farmer, if things had gone how his father planned. But life usually didn’t. And when the elder William went out one evening to see what had roused his pigs, he expected to find a fox.

  Instead found a creature of the night more deadly than that.

  The vampire tore elder William’s throat. Drained him of every drop of blood before creeping into the house. The vampire had been a young man with strange eyes and a pale round face. Cherubic, a more learned man might say.

  He entered the house with an axe handle.

  Beat the younger William’s mother to death with it. Laughed in time with each sickening blow.

  Then lapped at her wounds while staring at the young boy trying desperately to push himself into the corner of the room.

  “Your mother tastes sweet,” the vampire said. “But I’ll bet you taste sweeter. The young ones always do. There’s something irresistible in their blood.”

  He didn’t have anything to say. What could he say?

  Mouth was numb with terror.

  The vampire stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Grinning. A wild animal.