Mad Bride of the Ripper

by Lucas Thorn

  “Won’t have her,” he hissed. “Over my dead fucking body, James. You hearing me, boy? Over my dead fucking body!”

  Suddenly fuelled by rage, Renfield lashed with the knife, gouging bigger holes in the throat. Obliterating all trace of the bites Adele had left on him. Then stabbing and stabbing the chest. Working down in calculated frenzy. Turning the old man into a shredded semblance of a man.

  Cut a few fingers free.

  A toe.

  Ear.

  All tossed into the cage.

  When he was done, he stood over the mess. Inhaling the stink of old flesh and fresh rot.

  “Oh, Havelock.” He spat on the body. “Don’t you just stink a fright? Strawberries and jam. No roast for me. No duchess for tea. Best go slosh some pretty water on my features first. Rose-scented? Of course, of course.”

  When he left, he locked the door.

  But threw the key into the gutter for anyone to find.

  Didn’t matter if they did.

  Off he hopped.

  Whistling a tune.

  It was a fine day. A real fine day.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “Inspector?” Lucy smiled down from the top of the stairs. “This is a surprise.”

  Abberline lifted himself from the chair and nodded. “Yes, Miss Westenra. I do apologise for not sending anyone ahead, but I was wondering if I might impose upon you to ask a few more questions?”

  “Of course, Inspector.” She glided down the stairs.

  He realised only when she was standing right in front of him that he’d been holding his breath. He gave a small cough and tapped his finger against the head of his cane. “It’s most appreciated. I understand it’s very difficult to talk about.”

  “Shall we go through to the dining room?”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “Kipper?” She turned to the big man leaning against the wall nearby. “Would you get the Inspector some tea? I’m afraid I don’t have the key to my father’s cabinet for anything stronger.”

  “It’s fine, Miss Westenra. I don’t need anything at all. Please don’t trouble yourself. Kipper, was it?”

  “Aye, Inspector. That’s it. My old man had a wicked sense of humour and liked his fish.”

  “Very well,” Lucy said. She opened the door and headed inside. “At least take a seat. My father has gone back to the manor for a few days. I believe he’s entertaining Sir Harold.”

  “Ah.” Abberline understood.

  “It’s no judgement on your capabilities,” she said. “I hope you don’t misunderstand. He was very impressed by your visit.”

  “Not at all. I would most likely do the same if I were in his position.” He took a chair near the window, facing her.

  “Thank you for not taking offence. You’re very gracious, Inspector.”

  She placed two hands across the table. Flat down. Calm.

  Her face a mask of serenity, but he had the impression she was working to keep it that way.

  That some other part of her wanted to scream.

  This, too, he understood.

  “Have you talked to him yet, Inspector?”

  “Doctor Seward?”

  “Yes.”

  “I returned from Whitby only today. An hour ago, to be precise. I came here as quickly as I could.”

  Her fingers twitched. “But did you speak to him?”

  “No.”

  “And Van Helsing?”

  “I spoke to the nurses. They tell me that they both left the Sanitorium a few days ago after a riot involving many of the inmates. The date appears to match the approximate time of your escape.”

  “I do remember the nurses being busy with some rowdy patients. I didn’t think there was a riot, though.”

  “Perhaps it’s nothing, then. It seems some of the staff have also been let go. Presumably those with some knowledge of your presence. They were rumoured to have been paid handsomely. We’ve been unable to locate any of them yet. And those who remain were sure they don’t know of anyone matching your appearance. I believe them.”

  “They’re covering it all up, then.”

  “Luckily, they’ve had to work quickly, so there are too many holes in the story they’re creating, Miss Westenra. Too many gaps which support your own version than disprove it. One of the nurses told me she always felt uncomfortable around the German. She said she never wanted to be alone in a room with him. Others said they suspected he was conducting experiments on patients, but they didn’t know what kinds of experiments. Only that some patients never seemed to recover, and some disappeared who were in no shape to be released. They told me there were also surgical procedures, though none could say for sure what the German was trying to achieve. It all sounds too much like illegal experimentation. It could be argued that Van Helsing, who is not a medical doctor, is most definitely inclined toward repugnant acts in the name of science at least.”

  “And you don’t know where they are?”

  “Not precisely. One of the staff said he overheard Doctor Seward and Ven Helsing talking about coming here, to London. You can imagine I was much concerned for your safety.”

  “Then, you do believe me?”

  “I do.” He held his breath for a moment. Frowned. “Do you read the daily papers, Miss Westenra?”

  “Lucy, please. Call me Lucy, Inspector. And no, I seldom do. I’m not really interested in the day to day antics of politicians. And much of what is written is simply gossip.”

  “But perhaps you’ve heard of the murders in Whitechapel?”

  “Murders?”

  “Yes. Now, this might be distressing, but when I tell you what I know you will hopefully understand why I believe you to be the key to apprehending the man, or men, responsible.”

  Lucy closed her eyes. Steadied herself in her chair.

  When she opened them again, Abberline gave an encouraging nod.

  He felt like standing up and going around to comfort her.

  Hold her. Tell her everything would be fine.

  That he’d protect her.

  “I will do my best,” she said. “And there’s no need to spare me the details. They can be no worse to the very real horrors I’ve already been forced to witness.”

  “Then I’ll continue. But do let me know, Miss Westenra, if you cannot listen any more. I would understand. These crimes have left many a man in my own station unable to do their job. More than a few have left the force entirely. Such is the absolute evil of what we’ve had to witness. For myself, their wicked and abhorrent nature haunt my dreams.”

  “Am I wrong, Inspector, to think you’ve found bodies? Here, I mean. In London. Bodies of other poor girls tortured by Van Helsing?”

  “It is difficult for us to be sure, you understand. We have no solid basis for comparison. If we’d found just one of the bodies in Whitby, we might be able to connect them. At this stage, we only have your description. It’s entirely possible, I suppose, that I am seeing a connection where there is none. It’s also possible there are two heinous murderers with similar methods. Perhaps they are not similar at all. Perhaps the wounds you describe were not clear to you? You said you were in a cell. Was it dark?”

  “It was dark, Inspector. But I have no doubts of what I saw. None at all. What I told you before was exactly what I saw.”

  “Of course. I didn’t mean to give the impression that I doubted you.” He cleared his throat. “Permit me to tell you something of the murders here in London. In Whitechapel to be precise.”

  “Whitechapel? What would they want there?”

  “Have you ever been there?”

  “No. From everything I’ve heard, it’s a beastly place. I think you understand it’s not the kind of place my father would allow me to go unescorted.”

  “In this, I agree with him. You don’t want to go there alone, I assure you. I would not call it evil as such, you understand. But it’s a pitiful area. Poverty has led to the degradation of human life. Morals are only as strong as the coin us
ed to purchase them. Overcrowding and a lack of genuine care has left it to fester. It’s not uncommon for gentlemen to be mugged, or women to be attacked. You’d lose your purse as quick as you could blink. I don’t tell you this to paint a picture of Hell come to Earth, Lucy. But to tell you that when we see a crime so sordid and depraved as these, it shocks us all to our very soul.” He wiped at his brow before continuing. “Murders. The first was a young girl at the end of August. She had her throat cut and her belly was attacked with a knife. Just a few days later, another girl was murdered. Only, this was worse. Whoever killed her slashed her throat, and then her belly. He then removed pieces of her which I shall not describe. We don’t know why, but he took them with him. As you mentioned before, like a gruesome trophy.”

  “Oh my God,” she croaked. Lifted a hand to her mouth.

  “I’m sorry. But you did ask me not to spare the details. While I was at Whitby, I asked many questions. Not just of the nurses and guards. But of the townsfolk who might have had any contact with Van Helsing and Doctor Seward. From this, I’ve learned that the second murder occurred shortly after your escape. Probably within a day or two of you arriving here in London.”

  “They followed me!”

  “Yes. It appears to be the case. Now, it’s entirely possible that they’ve moved on. Perhaps they took ship to Paris. I can’t be sure. I’ve given their descriptions to every constable in London and the ports are being monitored most closely. I’ve advised for now that they’re simply persons of immense interest.”

  “Do you think they’ll come after me, Inspector?”

  “I wish I could be certain. I’ve asked for extra constables to do rounds in this area until we can be sure you’re safe. There’s a chance, after all, they won’t risk capture by coming after you. My request has been approved based on what you’ve told me and what I found during my trip to Whitby. My superiors agree that, despite no direct evidence in Whitby being found, the fact the two men have absconded and appear to have attempted to hide something of their activities from our investigation shows they are certainly engaged in something nefarious, even if it isn’t these Ripper murders.”

  “Ripper murders?” Lucy gave a shudder. “What a horrible way to describe the death of poor girls.”

  “Yes. I agree. But it’s what the papers are calling them, you see.”

  “And what is it you want from me, Inspector? You said you had more questions.”

  “Well, I was hoping you could tell me anything of their conversation. Even the smallest detail. Did they ever speak of London? Do you have any idea where they might be staying?”

  “I honestly can’t say.” She screwed her face up in thought. “John was known to me, of course. But I knew him through Mina, you see. And Jonathan Harker.”

  “Harker?” Abberline pulled out a small notebook. “I know that name. One of the nurses mentioned it. She said he was there the night Van Helsing left the asylum.”

  “Jonathan’s here? In London?”

  “Yes. Does that surprise you?”

  “Well, he was supposed to be in Europe. Mina said he’d been sent overseas by the German. Something to do with one of their little societies. To be honest, when she disappeared, I thought John had killed them both!”

  “She disappeared, too?”

  “Why, yes. Didn’t I tell you? Mina was engaged to Jonathan. They were to be married. We were both happy because we thought we might do something of a double wedding. We were very close, Inspector. But, while he was in Europe, she became close to the foreigner, Count Dracula. She dined with him after I fell ill. She came to me while I was in my bed and told me how wonderful he was. She told me more, but I wasn’t able to think clearly at the time, you understand. Much of what she said is a jumble, but she was definitely very taken with him.”

  “Ah. The Count. Yes, we asked about him, and the villagers said they hadn’t seen him for many weeks. Since just after your funeral, they said. That seems again to support your story. Everything we learn adds weight to your evidence.”

  “Oh.” She blinked at him.

  “Are you alright, Miss Westenra? Lucy?”

  “I think so.” She sighed. “I’m sorry, Inspector. It’s just that while I was in the Sanitorium, they told me Arthur had also gone to Europe. There are times when I believe he might be alive, too. And if Jonathan is still alive, then maybe… But he can’t be, can he? They told me specifically that he was dead. Just before I managed to escape. I can’t think why they would lie about it.”

  “You said Doctor Seward was obsessed with you. Perhaps he wanted Arthur out of the way. There’s still a chance he’s in Europe.”

  “Oh, I wish you were right. But I fear the worst.”

  “Do you think Jonathan Harker could be a part of what they’re doing? That somehow he’s as twisted as they are?”

  “I really couldn’t say. I knew Mina more than I knew him. I only met him the weekend before I was to be engaged. Mina had been very secretive. You know, I’m not sure she really wanted to be married so soon. She had talked about touring France next year on her own. It would be very brave of her, I think. But she was that sort of person. Very adventurous.”

  “Like yourself?”

  Lucy’s laughter was a delight to his ears and he smiled with her. “I was hardly as brave as she was, I assure you. Why, she would have gone to Whitechapel all by herself. No fear!” Sigh. “I miss her. I would like to believe she’s still alive. We were very close. Like sisters. We were to be Brides together…”

  “And you have no idea where they might hide her if she was alive? Or where they might stay?”

  “None. I wish I did.” She looked down at her hands. “I don’t understand what is happening, Inspector. News that Jonathan might be involved is very shocking to me. He seemed to be much in love with Mina. I don’t believe he would have anything to do with anything which might hurt her. Yes, I’m sure of it. He couldn’t hurt Mina. Even if the rumours are true.”

  “Rumours?”

  “Well, it’s probably gossip, so I shouldn’t say.”

  “Tell me. If it’s gossip, I shall of course dismiss it as such.”

  “Some of the guards made jokes. Crude jokes. You know the kind. They seemed to think Jonathan was something of a lad. Now, I was never a sheltered girl, you understand. My father wanted me to know more of the world. He didn’t want me to grow up like a silly rich girl. So, I know the kinds of things which happen in pubs and music halls. I know, also, that there are some women who would sell their time to a man. And not just her time. As you said, some morals can be bought if the price is right.” She looked to the window. At the bright glow of a gas lamp shining in from the street through weaving banks of fog. “It has to be gossip, Inspector. Mina would never marry a man who would entertain such possibilities. But it was said too often by the guards that Jonathan had many friends among the local women interested in such activities.”

  “Prostitutes,” Abberline said. Almost in awe. The word like a ghost across his tongue.

  Like a piece of a puzzle.

  “Yes.” Lucy didn’t appear to notice his sudden excitement. “By their account, there was some trouble with one of them. That’s why everyone in town knew about him.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “As I said, Inspector. It’s very likely just malicious talk. Many people were jealous of him and Mina.”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing.” Edge of impatience swirled through his mouth but he kept it from touching his tone.

  “There was an incident. They said he hurt her.”

  “Hurt?”

  “Well, one of the guards said it was probably an accident, and another claimed she was caught trying to pick his pockets. But whatever the reason, the girl accused him of beating her. That sounds terribly unlikely to me. Jonathan just didn’t seem that sort of man. He was very charming in a spoiled sort of way.”

  “Still,” he said, his mind racing through possibilities. “There does seem to be an un
savoury amount of violence towards women in these men. And that they should be so close to each other. It doesn’t sound very innocent to me.”

  “I suppose it seems that way when you add it all together. I hope it’s not true about him. I really do. For poor Mina’s sake.” Her eyes closed, and she swayed a little in her chair. “Oh, I do hope she’s alive.”

  “Is it possible they just abducted her? Like they did with you? That they didn’t murder her?”

  Lucy stared at him. Her eyes suddenly draining of fear.

  Cold, he thought.

  “Inspector, when it comes to Van Helsing and Doctor Seward, I believe anything is possible. Don’t you?”

  “Yes,” he said. Felt a chill creep down his spine. “Yes, I believe I do.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  After the sun melted into the horizon, Renfield danced through murky streets.

  “A fox may steal yer hens, sir,” he sang. “A whore your health and pence, sir.”

  Skittered down an alley, still singing. Eyes flicking this way and that. Hands twitching at the ends of his worn cuffs.

  “Your daughter rob your chest, sir. Your wife may steal your rest, sir.”

  Didn’t pause as two shapes stepped out of the shadows. One thin and wiry. The other stout and firm.

  “Look what we got here, Gerald. It’s one of them fucking bards, ain’t it? Right out of the stories. Hey, little birdy, sing us a song.”

  Renfield saw the gleam of steel in their fists and whistled brightly.

  Didn’t pause his song as he whipped the pistol from his coat and aimed at the stout fellow’s forehead. “A thief your goods and plate. A thief your goods and plate…”

  “Shit.”

  The thin one croaked; “Look at his eyes, John. His eyes. He’s fucking mad, he is. Mad as a twisted spoon.”

  Knives were quickly dropped to the ground. “Look.” John held his arms out wide. “Weren’t meaning nothing, were we? No need for any unpleasantness.”

  “But this is all but picking,” Renfield crooned. “With rest, pence, chest, and chicken.”

  “Please, mate. I got two kids.”

  Renfield thumbed the hammer back. “If ever was decreed, sir. If lawyer hand is fee’d, sir.”