Mad Bride of the Ripper Page 22

  He could forget himself in the ruby smile.

  Lose himself in the glittering eyes.

  She reached, hands cupping his cheeks. Gentle touch. But cold. So cold they bit with frost’s teeth.

  “Constable Clifford Allen.” Not a question, but he nodded anyway. Creeping sweat soaked into his shirt. “You’re a diligent officer, Clifford. Most attentive to your duties, I know. I’ve been watching you. Watching as you patrol the street.”

  “He’s a right good little blue bottle,” Kipper said. “Up all hours, he is, Mistress. Hardly ever takes a nod. Poking his little stick into every tree and brush. Lifts the lid off every bin, too.”

  “Clifford,” she purred. The sound made his knees tremble and he felt warmth glide into his belly. The kind that came just before a piss. He squeezed eyes shut but her voice tore through him anyway. “Can you see it? The light inside you? Are you aware of it its presence at all? Can you feel it? I can.”

  Each word slid its tips deeper into his soul, searching for the glutinous core.

  Hi shriek was muffled by the gag.

  But it was enough to widen her smile.

  She kissed his cheek, almost sympathetic. Ran fingers through his hair. Like he was a pet she was trying to calm.

  “It’s alright, Clifford,” she said. “You can scream as much as you like. I don’t mind at all. I like screams. Loud ones. Long ones. Screams which go forever. I dream sometimes of listening to all of London scream. That would be amazing, wouldn’t it? It’d be like going to see an orchestra. So many kinds of screams. Everyone screams differently. And do you think they’d hear it in Heaven and Hell? I like to think they would.”

  “I like the high pitch ones, myself,” Kipper said. Put hands to his rough cheeks and let out a squeaky imitation before laughing. “Can’t get enough.”

  Clifford’s pleading eyes followed her hands as they moved down across his shoulders and chest. Two albino spiders. Crawling. He was rigid against her. Spine locked into a single aggressive line. Made aggressive not through rage, but terror.

  Shouting through the gag.

  Please let me go!

  The vampire laughed at him. A musical laugh. One which might have bewitched him into loving her. But the fangs. Twin ivory spikes gleaming with a promise of agony.

  “Oh, Clifford. You’re delightful.” She pressed her body against his and dropped her head between his neck and shoulder. Forehead up against his jaw. Purred into his neck. Nuzzling. Like a cat. “I’m tired, Clifford. Do you know, I feel tired all the time lately? I do. I just want to crawl into my coffin and sleep. I could sleep forever, I think. Do you know why?”

  Her fingers traced the edge of his jaw and over the stubble of his chin. Making it rasp.

  He moaned.

  “Because I dream,” she said. “I dream I’m exploring the city streets. It’s very dark and the fog embraces every home. It holds them all snug and warm. When I float through its veil, it opens in front of me like a spectral gate to reveal a path to the Underworld. I feel like Hecate as every barrier falls to my whim. And I can see wisps. They dance in the shadows of all the houses. They’re so pretty, Clifford. I wish I could show you what it looks like. There’s so many different colours, and each is unlike the one before. I simply can’t help myself. I have to know them. Touch them. Taste them. Every little light begs me to test its flavour.”

  Her tongue snaked out to lick his throat.

  He shuddered, torn between the thrill and horror of it.

  “They’re all delicious. All taste fresh. Each with their own delight. Some sweet. Some bitter. Some are complex and others revel in simplicity.” She grabbed his coat. Pulled him closer. Voice smouldering in his ear. “When I walk among them, I’m like a gardener who has found a wild patch. I can’t just leave it like that. All untidy and infested. I need to clean it up. Need to water the plants. Pull the weeds. Tear out the unwanted roots and rip out the vermin.”

  With each word, she clenched her fists tighter until he could feel the sharp points of her nails dig into his skin.

  Then she relaxed.

  Sighed a breath against his pulsing neck.

  “I watch the best ones grow.” Soft. Lips murmuring against his skin under his ear. Little more than a whisper, but every word loud in his head. “I feed them, Clifford. Feed them what they need. But if I don’t go back soon enough, the weeds can return. The rabbits and worms. The birds will scratch and nothing good will grow. It’s sad, don’t you think? Wouldn’t it be nice if I could spend all my time in the gardens of your mind? Wouldn’t you like me in there, Clifford? I could show you wondrous delights. I could set you all free. All of you. The wisps of London, I’ll call you. And you’ll march for me, won’t you? You’ll spread through the city like vines. Glowing brighter and brighter as you grow and grow. How the world would shine! Brighter than all the stars in the sky. Wouldn’t it be the most amazing thing in the entire universe?”

  She took the lobe of his ear gently between her teeth and touched it with the tip of her tongue.

  “I tell you, Clifford, it would be delicious!”

  His body flooded with adrenaline and he kicked and thrashed against her. Body wriggling like a worm as he tried to get to the door. Chewing on the gag, trying to spit it loose. One scream. That’s all he’d need.

  One good scream.

  And someone would hear.

  Who was patrolling the street now?

  How long before they missed him?

  They’d hear the scream and come running.

  He felt it work at the edge of his mouth. Kept squirming even as Kipper slapped a hand down and grabbed his elbow. He whimpered.

  Kicked. Aimed it at her belly, but she hissed and shot into the air, hovering over him like a vulture. Eyes no longer gentle.

  Mouth no longer smiling.

  Mad hatred bubbling in her predatory gaze, she pulled lips back to show those dreadful sharp fangs.

  He jerked at the grip on his arm, but Kipper wouldn’t let go.

  “You want me to clobber him, Miss?”

  “No,” she said. Icy cold. “Let him squirm.”

  The big man loosened his grip and took a step back. Made his way between the constable and the door. Leaned against the frame and crossed his arms.

  Clifford froze again beneath her gaze.

  A little mouse caught by an owl’s nocturnal glare.

  Couldn’t work the gag free. Even as she slowly glided down to hover just above him. Hands like claws in front of her breasts.

  Reaching for him.

  He tried to roll, but sharp fingers snatched his coat and rolled him onto his back. Pinning his arms underneath his body. Hands pinched under his weight. Yelp of pain muffled, but enough to bring the grin flashing across her face.

  Please, he shouted silently. Don’t let her turn me into a creature like her!

  “I don’t need you anyway, Clifford. Not for that. No. I had no intention of making you beautiful. You’re not what I want. Your light is pitiful and small. Your dreams shallow and uninteresting.” The snarled words made him flinch with each syllable. “The only thing which interests me is this your uniform. That you wear it means you can be of use to me. But first, we need to fix your flaw. Do you know what your flaw is, Clifford?”

  He couldn’t help it.

  He shook his head.

  “You’re still alive.”

  And she dropped on him with savage frenzy. Flung her head high above, opening jaws and then bringing down with a rip and tear. Fangs split the skin of his throat and tore into the tangled veins and arteries within. An explosion of red flooded her mouth and she worked with frantic sucks and gulps to catch every bubbling drop.

  Worrying at his neck like a lion.

  Working herself into him.

  Deep into flesh.

  He could feel each lunging thrust of her face. Each snapping crunch of her jaws. And every shooting blast of his blood was on the back of a series of hammered beats delivered by his desperat
e heart.

  Each weaker than the one before.

  Slowing.

  He writhed under her. Mind soaked in prayer and memories. In fear and agony, he sobbed and begged for a miracle.

  She reared again like a dreadful wyrm. Outline of her body majestic beneath the white dress soaked red.

  Smiling down at him and panting with hunger. Mouth drooling thick reeds of blood.

  His blood.

  Awareness began to blur as he felt himself falling. Falling into a dark embrace which, the more it enveloped him, the more he yearned for.

  Stars burst.

  He caught a glimpse of something.

  A shining light of verdant green.

  I’m sorry, he begged with the voice of his soul. Please don’t take me. I tried…

  Lucy’s eyes widened as she looked down at his trembling body. She grabbed his face in her hands and pressed her nose up against his.

  “What do you see, Clifford? Show me! What do you see?”

  He dropped away into nothing.

  Leaving the vampire to stare into his dead eyes.

  Blood dripping from her lips onto his own.

  Denied, she snarled. Let his head fall with a contemptuous thump.

  Paused.

  Then looked to the door, her eyes fastened on the keyhole of the lock. Drew her cruel wet lips back into a crimson leer.

  Purred; “Hello, Polly. Do you like what you see?”

  Polly, kneeling in the hall, turned and fled.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  “George! Open up, George! Oh, please let me in!”

  She hammered on the door, tears forming glistening trails. Her skin pale with fright and her dress had a thin trail of wet vomit down the front.

  “Hold on,” someone growled from inside and undid the latch. Opened the door. Larkin. He looked her up and down, confused. “Polly? What are you doing here?”

  “Where’s George?” She pushed inside, wheeling in little circles as she entered. Horror and fear making every part of her body shake. “Quick! Close the door. Close it quickly. Won’t you please close it before she finds me?”

  “She? What do you mean?”

  “Her! Miss Lucy! Oh, God, Larkin. I saw. I saw it all.” She looked down, hands trembling violently. “I can’t believe it. I just can’t. But I saw what she did to that poor man. I saw it!”

  Larkin bolted the front door and grabbed a bag on a hook nearby. Fumbled around inside. Threw garlic cloves across the threshold and took out a heavy crucifix. Handed it to her. “Here,” he said. “Keep this with you. Don’t put it down. Not until we know she hasn’t followed you.”

  Polly hugged the crucifix tight. Like a lifeline to safety.

  Still shaking, she looked around. “Where is he? Where’s George? I need to tell him he was right. George? Where are you? You were right. She’s a monster. She’s… I don’t know what she is!”

  “A vampire,” Larkin said. Grim. Took off his coat and dropped it to the floor. Three wooden stakes were in makeshift sheaths around his belt. A heavy mallet on his hip, which he pulled loose. A revolver, too. He stood facing the door. “Don’t worry about old George. He’ll be back soon enough and he can explain things better than I can. But first, did she follow you, Polly?”

  “Oh, God. A vampire. A real vampire?” She threw herself into a chair and looked like she wanted to crawl under it. “It can’t be. It can’t be real. Yes, I must be dreaming. That’s what it is. A dream. I’ll wake at any moment. Oh, my head hurts. It hurts so much. I can’t breathe. I can’t!”

  He ducked down beside her, still aimed at the door. “Polly, listen to me. You must calm down. Try to breathe slowly, girl. Slowly now. There, you see? You can breathe after all. Now, I need to know. Did she follow you? Does she know you’re here?”

  “What? No. I don’t think so. I didn’t see her. Not after…”

  “What about the others? The two brutes of hers?”

  “Kipper and Blasko?”

  “Yes. Did they follow you?”

  “I didn’t hear them. And I didn’t see them. Blasko wasn’t there, in any case. Miss Westenra sent him away. I thought that was strange, you see. She never sent him away before. I was scared. What if the men who were after her tried to break into the house while he was out? It sounds cowardly, I know, but I thought about going to the tavern. Just to feel safe. But then I heard strange sounds from her bedroom, and I looked. I looked through the keyhole. I shouldn’t have. I never should have looked.” She put her face in her hands, body heaving with sobs. “Oh, God. Larkin, what she did to him. She bit him! Her mouth had fangs. Huge white fangs. I hadn’t noticed them before. Why hadn’t I seen them? And then she drank his blood. She was covered in it. That poor man. Oh, I’m going to be sick again.”

  He rushed to grab a large pot and she convulsed over it.

  But there was nothing left in her stomach to bring up.

  Larkin patted her shoulder awkwardly. “It’s alright, Miss Polly. You’re safe now. We’ve been fortifying the whole house for days. Holy water on the windows. Silver and garlic. And plenty of crosses all over the place. She can’t hurt you if you show it to her. Jam it right under her nose and she’ll run so fast it’ll spin your head, I swear. Besides, she can’t come into the house unless she’s invited. And we’re not going to do that, are we? Eh?”

  “No.” Shudders wracked her thin body. “Never! Oh, I don’t want to see her again. It was horrible, Larkin. Absolutely horrible. Oh, what am I going to do?”

  “You just stay here, Miss Polly. I’ll get you some water so you can clean up. And I’m sure we can find you some new clothes.”

  “Clean up?” Then flushed as she noticed the thin vomit down her dress. “Oh, I look dreadful.”

  “Not at all. And it’s completely understandable.” He paused, not sure what to say. “You were very brave.”

  “Was I? I just ran. That’s all.”

  “Not many can say they had the chance to run from a vampire. Even fewer can say they took it.”

  She looked down at her hands. They still didn’t look quite right. Closed her eyes, then opened them and frowned as another thought broke through. “Where is George?”

  “Ah, well. He had to go away. But he’ll be back very soon.”

  “Where?”

  “He’s gone to get some help. To deal with the vampire.”

  “Help?”

  “Yes. You’ve seen Lucy. She’s more powerful than she looks. She can do things to people. You’ve been very lucky.”

  “Lucky?” Her laugh was a nervous bark. “I don’t feel very lucky. My heart is still racing.”

  “Here. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. There’s a room you can use up the stairs.”

  He took her into the bedroom which had belonged to the old lady, Mrs Murphy. Couldn’t help wincing as he let her inside. He’d never quite felt comfortable in the house after learning Sloper had killed the old woman.

  But he was ready to blame the murder on the vampire. At the time, Sloper had done what he’d thought was necessary.

  For the greater purpose.

  “There’s a closet there, look,” he said. “Bound to be something you can use.”

  “But whose is it? Won’t they mind?”

  “No, not at all, love,” he said. “She won’t mind at all. She’s a friend of ours, isn’t she? She’s a generous old soul. Now, I’ll get you some water. You wait here.”

  He came back quickly with a linen towel and some water. Handed it to her and watched as she placed it down it on a little cabinet by the bed. Turned to the window which faced the Westenra house. “I can’t believe it,” she said. “I never noticed. I thought she was just a little odd, that’s all. Who’d believe she was such a creature?”

  “You ain’t the first to fall for a cunning vampire’s tricks,” he said. “Don’t you worry. Here. I’ll close the curtains. Best if you try not to think about it too much.”

  “Thank you.”

  He left her
to clean herself up and went back downstairs to check the doors. Didn’t fancy either of the two big men coming through the front. From the size of them, it wouldn’t take much for one of them to kick it in. Knew the vampire couldn’t enter, but the oafs would be a problem.

  From one of the cupboards, he pulled out a shotgun.

  Loaded it, looking to the stairs.

  Didn’t want to frighten her, so he put the shotgun near the umbrella stand and hoped she wouldn’t notice.

  Heard the first splashes of water as she began to wipe the tears and vomit away.

  “Poor girl,” he said.

  A muffled shout made him look to the basement door. Sighed.

  That could be difficult to explain, he thought. In her condition, who knows what she’d do? Probably get hysterical. Scream. Then there’d be police bashing through the front and that would be that.

  It wouldn’t do.

  Slipping his revolver into his hand, he unlocked the basement door. Looked back at the stairs leading up, then went down.

  “William?”

  “Larkin,” Sloper moaned. Could hardly lift his head. Drooled spit and blood as his slack jaw worked words over split lips. “Thank God it’s you. Listen to me, Larkin. You have to listen. Jesus, my head…”

  Sloper was chained to the wall. Hanging exhausted, legs bent and knees almost touching the ground. He had no shirt. His pants were torn.

  Bruises smudged almost every inch of his skin and his face looked a mess.

  A real mess.

  Larkin shook his head. “Look, William. I need you to quiet down, alright? We’ve got a visitor upstairs. And she knows what Lucy is. She knows all about it. But it wouldn’t do any good for her to know you’re down here. And you don’t want the girl to get hurt, do you? Wouldn’t be fair, would it? She’s not got anything to do with it. Just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “You’ve got to let me loose, Larkin. You’re all making a mistake. I shouldn’t be locked up like this. Can’t you see? This is Harker’s work! Harker! He was jealous of me, that’s all. Jealous of how I was close to the old man. The sick bastard doesn’t care about what we do. He just wants to be in charge! He wants to flounce around his Gentleman’s Clubs and tell everyone what a grand occult group he’s got. I mean, look at me. Look! You know me, Larkin. How many vampires have I killed? A dozen? And how many has Harker done? Any you know of? The one he was sent to deal with, he fucked up! You know him. You’ve seen him around ladies. What the fuck was he doing? I’ll tell you. He was busy trying to fuck Dracula’s Brides! That’s what he was doing.” He tugged at the chains. “Larkin, come on! I know Abraham is out working. But he needs me. You need me. That useless Harker won’t be of any help at all, and you can’t deal with her alone. Let me go and I’ll deal with her myself.”