Mad Bride of the Ripper

by Lucas Thorn

“Van Helsing is, I think, another matter,” she said. “His obsession seemed more for the horror, rather than the victim. I don’t think he cared who I was.”

  “I feel ill,” Adele said suddenly. Wiping at her face. “All this talk. It’s not right. Can’t you just put them away, Inspector? Why all this fear? We-That is, Lucy is the victim here. Is her word so meaningless that these evil men are allowed to walk free?”

  “I agree, Miss Havelock,” Abberline said. “But we have not yet located them. I am doing my best, of course.”

  “Oh!” She put fingers to her lips and tried to hide her shame. “I didn’t mean to doubt you, Inspector. Please forgive me. It’s just… These monsters. They should be locked up.”

  “Hanged,” Kipper put in.

  “Yes,” Adele nodded. “Most definitely.”

  “I promise we are doing our very best. It’s why we want to take no risks. The poor women so far seem to have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. There’s no hint that he knew them before. However, each terrible crime has only reinforced the reliability of your account and so again, Miss Westenra, your observation bears fruit.” He smiled ruefully. “I wish I had ten men with as much skill in the art of observing.”

  “We make do with what we have,” Lucy said. “But if I can be of any help, I would like to be. The sooner you have them put away, the safer I shall feel. And, if Van Helsing is indeed your Ripper, young ladies won’t have further need to fear the dark.”

  “As you say,” he said. Put his hat on and nodded to them. “I’ll send some men immediately. And if you have any sense of being watched, please let me know. Any information, no matter how seemingly insignificant, could lead to the killer.”

  “Or killers,” Lucy said.

  “Exactly.” He turned to the door. Paused as Kipper opened it for him. “Thank you. Goodnight to you all.”

  “As if we’d sleep now,” Adele shuddered, but kept her voice low.

  “Oh, I’ll sleep just fine,” Lucy said when the door was closed. Her mouth curling into a cruel grin. “But not just yet. Kipper, will you ensure no one disturbs my room? I am going out.”

  “Of course, Mistress. I’ll sit myself right down in front. Not even the Queen herself will get in.”

  “No need to be that forceful,” she laughed. “I’m eagerly awaiting a visit from the Queen. Perhaps not the one you’re referring to.”

  Adele winced. Timid little mouse. “Will she want to meet me, too?”

  “I’m sure of it.”

  “What will I wear?”

  “I’ll find you something.” Then led the way upstairs. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

  “I think so. I have the dress you gave me.”

  “You don’t like it? Polly said she thought it was most fashionable.”

  “It itches.”

  “You’ll get used to it,” Kipper said.

  “Never.” Gnashed teeth with a click and grind. “I don’t mean to sound so spoilt, Mister Kipper, but I don’t believe my skin was made for it. It’s much too sensitive.”

  “We’ll visit a dressmaker in a few days,” Lucy said. “And I’ll have something more appropriate for you.”

  “So, it’s only for a few days, love,” Kipper put in.

  “I know. That’s why I’m trying not to complain. I’m sure I’ll have a headache afterwards, though.”

  Lucy closed the door, leaving Kipper outside in the hall.

  Began pulling off her dress. Struggling with the bustle and corset. “Help me with this, Adele, won’t you?”

  “Isn’t it cold outside, Miss Lucy?”

  “I don’t notice the cold anymore.” She leaned in to press her cheek against the young woman’s own. “But I do feel the warmth. Do you think that strange?”

  “It is!” Giggled. “Mistress, what shall I do while you’re away?”

  “I want you to wear my dress and spend some time in the library. Make sure the curtains are open just enough for our watchers to see you. But keep the lights low. Don’t let your face be seen.”

  “You want them to think you’re still at home.”

  “It will keep them from exploring the streets and being caught by an enthusiastic policeman. That aside, we’re doing them a favour. They shouldn’t be creeping about the streets on a night like this. They’d catch a terrible chill.”

  “I don’t understand. Why don’t you tell the Inspector where they are? He could lock them up and we wouldn’t have to worry about them then.”

  “There’s a chance someone will listen to their story. Van Helsing won’t be shy. And he has far too many powerful friends. No. Keep them where they are. We’ll deal with them soon enough. Our hero Inspector will no doubt clean everything nice and spotlessly when the time is right.”

  “How?”

  Lucy cupped the young woman’s face. Kissed her with a gentle brush of lip against lip. “Trust me, Adele.”

  “I trust you, Mistress.”

  “Then, enjoy yourself. Isn’t this fun?”

  “I want to.” She put a hand to her brow. “Sometimes I think about it. About him. And it hurts. I want to scream. I want to shout. I want to run through the streets. I dream about doing it sometimes, too. I dream I’m running through London. My hair’s a mess. My skin is filthy. And I’m naked. I’m howling like a wolf and my hands have blood on them. There’s blood in my mouth, too. I can taste it. Meat. I chew it. Swallow. Oh, Mistress, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of my dreams because when I wake I just want to bring those dreams with me. And what if I make a mistake? What if I say something in front of someone? What if they put me away in one of them homes for lunatics? I couldn’t serve you then.”

  Lucy used her thumbs to push the tears off the young woman’s cheeks. “Oh, my beautiful Adele. You’re a shining light in a dark world of shadow. Do you know that? You can’t make a mistake, darling one. You are what you are. And I won’t let them lock you up. You need to be free. When the Queen is here, you and I will both run through the streets. Hand in hand. And we’ll howl until the moon blazes so bright it will be like night has turned to day.”

  “I want that! Oh, I want it so very much.”

  They clasped hands and kissed with the softest brush of lips.

  Breath mingling.

  Adele’s heart stuttered swift inside her chest. Her mind felt like it was being broken slowly in two. Two shards of shining glass and a million tiny splinters. Each flickering with their own quiet light.

  “You’ll have it soon, Adele. You shall have it all. Everything I promised and more besides. The Queen is coming. Her power is rising. Satan himself can’t bar her from her destiny. The world will fall. You’ll see. And we’ll dance in its ashes.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Lucy scurried inside, her fingers trembling as Amelia closed the door behind her.

  “Where’s Renfield?”

  “He’s in the back, Mistress. Cleaning up. He looked a mess.”

  “Is he happy?”

  “He’s been singing since he got back. And eating bugs.” The Angel-maker screwed her face into a withered look of disgust. “Revolting habit.”

  “He’s happy, though. That’s good. Very good.” She smiled. “He killed two tonight.”

  “That’s what he’s been crowing about, Mistress. On and on, he’s been going. Two in the pot, he said. Thought he’d mucked up the first, so he ran off looking for a second.”

  “Mucked it up?”

  “Didn’t have a chance to give her the Van Helsing rip,” Renfield said, coming into the room. Wiping his hands in a towel. Clean towel. No sign of the blood he’d been scrubbing off. “Wanted to. Tried to. But lights in the tower. Hey ho. Couldn’t get the knife in. Had to look for another, I did. Weren’t quick about it. Nearly did my head, it did. Sorry, Mistress. I nearly fucked it up. But I got there in the end.”

  Lucy rushed to him. Threw arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his cheek. “My Renfield! My glorious savage man. You did a wonderful job. The police are
positive both are the work of the Ripper. In fact, it worked even better than that. They think the Ripper has lost his mind!”

  “Not wrong there,” Amelia grunted.

  “They think he’s getting desperate. They think he’ll come after me next. It’s perfect, Renfield. Utterly perfect.”

  He touched his cheek where her lips had pressed to his skin.

  Was blushing wildly, and his eyes couldn’t meet hers. “Ah, well, Mistress. I did me very best, I did.”

  “I heard you got a trophy?”

  “Clipped her ear, I did. And took a kidney.”

  “A kidney?”

  “Well, it was all I could think of.”

  “He was hungry,” Amelia explained. “And he’s been talking about frying it.”

  “I wasn’t gonna,” Renfield snapped. “Don’t have to tell her that. I wouldn’t eat it. Not now. It’s not fresh. Besides, I know you need it, Mistress. Pox on you, Angel-maker. Pox on your wrinkled old cunny!”

  Lucy laughed at them. “You two. You’re both adorable.” Then, to Amelia; “How many do you have now?”

  “Five, Mistress.”

  “Only five?”

  Renfield snorted. “She killed two.”

  “I didn’t!” The Angel-maker hissed at him like a snake. “You take that back, you foul little man. You take it back!”

  “She did. Strapped up their necks so they couldn’t breathe. Little tykes went out like lights. Blink blink.” He snatched hold of Lucy’s arms and began to spin her round, singing loudly; “If she has a woman’s feelings, she will surely go to wild. She in such a barbarous manner killed her tender infant child! Hee hee ho ho!”

  Lucy’s laughter rang through the cramped room as he wheeled her around so fast they both hit the table and nearly collapsed it under their weight.

  “Oh, Amelia,” she cried, seeing the old lady standing with her hands gripped tight across her apron. “Don’t scowl so hard. Do you think I want to stop you from having what you desire? Didn’t I tell you I want you to be free, too? I only want to know one thing, my lovely Angel-maker. Did the precious little darlings grow wings?”

  Amelia’s hard face showed no emotion other than a rapid tic at the corner of her eye.

  She looked down at her hands.

  Then back to Lucy and a slight predatory smile touched her lips. “No, Mistress. They did not.”

  “That’s a shame,” Renfield said. “Could’ve used some feathers for my pillow.”

  The old woman’s humour was still hesitant as she expected the vampire to rage. “But it weren’t for lack of trying, Mistress.”

  “Perhaps next time,” Lucy said airily.

  “Next time?”

  “We’ll need more than five by the end of the week. In fact, I was hoping for twice that number. Can this be done?”

  “Well, I’m not sure, Mistress. Perhaps. It might draw attention.”

  “It won’t matter soon.”

  “She’s close, Mistress?” Renfield leaned against the table, eager like a dog.

  “Very. I expect she’ll arrive by weekend.”

  “Oh my,” Amelia croaked. “What to do? What to do?”

  “I’ll put my hand in,” Renfield said. “Don’t you worry, Angel-maker. We’ll hoard ourselves a little army of tykes, we will. Two to a bed! Three! Four, even. Stack them on the floor in crates.”

  “Do you need more money?” Lucy asked. “Will that help?”

  “Money always helps,” Renfield said.

  “Helps you at the pub,” Amelia snorted.

  “Aye. Can’t argue that. And don’t go tossing your nose, Angel-maker. You’ve been known to slug a pint or two.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Shook her head angrily. “A sherry, perhaps.”

  “Or three.”

  “Mind your manners!”

  “Look at who you’re talking to.” He rolled his eyes and took the other chair. “I ain’t a well-mannered man.”

  “Nor a well-looking one.”

  He blinked. “What do you mean by that? I’ve got ladies pouring all over my hand, I do.”

  “Ladies?” Amelia’s laugh was a quick gnash of teeth. “Strumpets. Harlots.”

  “So? A lady is a lady.”

  “Wait,” Lucy said. Put a hand on the table. An old table. Deep rough grain which felt sharp under her touch. “Please wait. I can’t keep up. The lights are flashing so fast I can’t see. Look at me. I’m shaking. Can’t you see my hand? You’re both so bright. Terribly bright. I’m dizzy. I can’t think.”

  “I don’t see anything,” Renfield said. “It looks fine, Mistress.”

  “Don’t be such a pig, Mister Renfield,” Amelia said. “Look at her. She’s gone all pale, she has.”

  “She’s always been pale. Always been. Always. What is wrong with your eyes?”

  “Not this pale.”

  “How can you tell, if she’s always been pale?”

  “You’re not very observant.”

  “And you’re making me want to go out and do me a third.” Sighed and stood, rolling up his sleeves. “Would you like a bath, Mistress? I can pop down the road for the water. Boil it in pots. It’ll be a delight. Fill with scented flowers? Corrupted flesh? Blood of tykes? I’ll get you a tyke. Plenty outside. With the cockroaches. The spiders. Flies. Delicious rats. Rats rats rats!”

  “No, thank you, Renfield.” She said. Felt the shimmer of lights from inside their brains. Her stomach was churning. A ribbon of nausea made her stagger, hands to her face. “I don’t know what’s come over me.”

  “The excitement?”

  “Sometimes it’s too much. Looking around, I can see them all. All the pretty lights. And they call to me. All of them wanting attention.” She covered her eyes. “They flash so bright. And you were doing that just a minute ago. Both of you. Blinking so terribly bright. Honestly, I just wanted to kill you both.”

  Renfield looked at the Angel-maker.

  She looked back at him.

  He looked down at his worn boots and faded trousers.

  Sighed.

  “Aye,” he said. “Well, I understand that bit.”

  “Oh, Renfield,” Lucy smiled at him. “I didn’t mean it. I never want to lose you. It’s just a feeling, that’s all. It fades quickly. See? Now all I want to do is hold you like a baby. Cradle you in my arms and whisper into your ear. I’d say terrible things to you. Horrible things.”

  “Ah, Mistress. Now I’m all a-shiver.” He let out a small primitive hoot. Flushed deep scarlet.

  “And then, for some reason, I want to peel the skin from your flesh and turn it into a rug.”

  “Now that I understand,” Amelia grinned.

  “With thoughts like that, I ain’t going anywhere near your head. Not even when I’m dead,” he sneered at her. “Angel-maker, Angel-maker. Fluff and disgust.”

  “You wouldn’t get a choice.”

  “We’ll see about that!”

  The Angel-maker looked about to snap back at him. Instead chose to click her teeth together and turned back to Lucy. “Perhaps you’re just hungry, Mistress? When did you last have a drop?”

  “Last?” Lucy pondered for a moment. Pushing her finger to her mouth. “A few days ago, I think. Wasn’t it?”

  “If that last thing you had was the little boy with pretty curls, then that was indeed two nights ago.”

  “Oh, my. I’ve been so busy, you see. Preparing everything. I had to buy dresses. Buy a carriage. And a new place for you. Did I tell you about it?”

  “A new hole.” Renfield looked around the filthy little crib. “Scrub and scour. What’s wrong with this? It’s got character.”

  “It smells of old boots,” The Angel-maker muttered.

  “The Queen is coming,” Lucy said. “You don’t want her to see you here. I even bought you new clothes, Renfield. A clean shirt and everything.”

  “New clothes?” Plucked at a stain on his shirt. “I could just cover it up a bit, you know. Renfield needs no finery.�
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  “And for you, Angel-maker. A new dress. All prim and proper. A little lace. Nothing too much. Just elegant. Appropriate for a respected lady.”

  “Too good for her, then,” Renfield said.

  Amelia almost spat at him. Held it in. “Oh, stick it up your hole, you ugly little man.”

  “There you go.”

  “Wait until you see the house,” Lucy said, eyes bright. “I bought a little estate on the edge of London. A little out of the way. Quiet and peaceful. With a nice garden and an adorable pond. I’m told ducks visit it sometimes. And there’s the river quite close, too. The children will love it.”

  “Children?” Renfield squinted. “Not babies? Tykes. Tykes with their smells and their loose tongues?”

  “Well, it’s an orphanage, Renfield. It will need all kinds of children of all ages. For many reasons.”

  “I don’t really like children, Mistress,” he said.

  “They don’t much like you, neither,” Amelia said. “You should see the poor darlings when he’s around. They cry all the time. Must be his warty nose.”

  “Warty? It ain’t got a single wart on it! You’re mad, you loathsome bitch. Seeing things what ain’t there.”

  “Ain’t there? Why, it’s as big as a nose.”

  “Fool woman. That is my fucking nose!”

  Lucy wound her finger through her hair, eyes focussed on nothing. Her mind wandered from thought to thought and she felt like her brain was the arms of an octopus.

  Curling outward.

  Reaching.

  Touching tips to the glowing orbs madness illuminating the skulls of everyone in the city.

  Everyone had them.

  Some small.

  Some large.

  Some steady.

  Others flickering or fading in and out with gentle pulse.

  With each passing day, her mind seemed to slip further from her body and deeper into the void between stars.

  What would happen, she thought, if she chose not to come back? If instead she roamed the garden of insane delight?

  She reached again, denying exhaustion. The very act of reaching with her mind was almost as physical as reaching for a cup.

  Found the Inspector.

  He was standing aside from a ruined body in the street. His brain fizzing and popping as it tried not to succumb to the utter horror of what he’d been looking at. The shredded remains of a human.