Hunting Down the Darkness

by European P. Douglas

  “But I do,” she insisted. “For years now you’ve been doing things for my benefit, going out at night and hunting the Dolocher, keeping me safe whenever you could and now letting me live under your roof and keeping an eye on me during the day so that no harm can come to me.”

  “It sounds like more than it is,” he said blushing.

  “No, it couldn't ever sound as much as it is. I want you to know how much it means to me and how thankful I am for all you have done for me.” Now his face was burning red and he looked down at the ground.

  “Well, Mary, you’re very welcome,” he said and then he turned back to look into his scrap heap once more. Mary smiled at his bashfulness and she felt good that she’d done this. He was a very good man and there was no harm in telling him he was appreciated.

  After he’d gone back in, Larry came out and spoke to Mary,

  “That was a nice thing you said, earlier, to Mullins.”

  “It was the truth,” Mary said.

  “I suppose I should say something similar to him myself,” Larry said, “He’s been very good to me too.”

  “He’s been very good to a lot of people,” Mary said, “And a lot more people than appreciate it owe him their lives.” Larry nodded at this.

  “I’ll tell him thanks another day,” he smiled, “I don’t want his head getting big.” They both smiled at this and each got back to work.

  Chapter 76

  The day’s drinking at the clubhouse on Francis Street had dulled Edwards’ eyes long before the dusk fell on Dublin City. He rambled from the house and waved off his coachman joyfully,

  “I won’t need your services, this evening,” he called out as he walked by, "There are a great many taverns, pubs and clubs I want to visit this evening!” The driver knew better than to question Edwards no matter what state he appeared to be in and only tipped his hat to his boss and watched him walk on.

  Edwards was in a good mood and also a mischievous one. On seeing that it was growing dark, he thought he might walk the streets a little in the hope of running into Alderman James on his useless night patrols. He could wind the lawman up about the killer and watch him get angry and try to get rid of Edwards.

  This plan didn’t last, however, and he stopped in to the first tavern he came to which was on Plunkett Street only feet from Francis Street. It was while he was here drinking with a man he knew from the Parliament staff, that he first felt the eyes on him that night.

  At first, he paid it no heed; he was a man who always drew eyes his direction wherever he went. He was used to that and generally, he would be able to tell if any eyes were of any risk to him. This time however, as he casually scanned the room in parts at a time long after he first felt the eyes, he did not find the owner of the ones he was looking for. It wasn’t overly concerning to him though and the drink was making it less so.

  After leaving and heading down to Nicholas Street, that same sense of being watched came to him. He didn’t look around but when he rounded the corner on to Nicholas Street, he pressed himself against the wall and drew his sword. Whoever it was would have to come around soon after and they would meet him ready.

  More than two minutes had passed and nobody had shown its shape to him. Whoever it was they could not have expected to let him this long out of sight and still be able to pick up his trail soon after. As this thought came to him, Edwards realised something. The whole time he’d been standing there the feeling had not diminished or left; it was just he’d been focusing on action and preparing his body and now he didn’t feel the need to do this anymore. He recalled what Olocher had told him about the man on the roof and he looked up. No face save the moon greeted him and no eyes save the twinkling stars looked back at him.

  “You’re getting jumpy, Edwards’” he said smiling and then walked on down the street.

  The smile didn’t last long and the fear crept back into his body like poison. Fear was not something Edwards was used to and as such, it boiled in him worse than those more accustomed to it. Now he did look behind him and all around searching out whoever it was who made him feel this way. The idea of what Spencer had gone through with his ‘Devil’ came to mind and Edwards understood how a feeling like this over a long period could drive a man insane. What was worst of all was that when he looked there was nothing, only darkened corners and doorways where anything could hide a moment. No one at all walked the streets and he felt alone in the world, a terrible silence falling all around him.

  “Who is it?” he barked angrily, his fear taking hold of his tongue for a moment. He instantly regretted this show of weakness and he felt new fear come into him- he well knew how fear in the prey could embolden the hunter.

  Edwards turned and briskly walked on. His feet slapping hard on the stones as he moved away. It was hard not to run; every ounce of his fear told him to flee as fast as he could. The terror mounting in his heart started to make him feel light headed and he worried about falling faint. His shins began to hurt from the way he was walking but he didn’t stop or even slow down. Something was coming after him and he needed to keep on going at all costs.

  Peering over his shoulder, he saw once more that there was nothing there, but the feeling of his pursuer getting closer and closer would not lift from him. He could almost feel the icy grip of death on his collar, the fingertips almost there tickling the skin at the back of his neck.

  Now he did break into a run and right there and then he did not care who might see him. He just wanted to be rid of this feeling and the only thing his body could think of to do was to try to outrun it. Get back to the busier streets, or else get home, that was what was on his mind.

  Before he knew where he was running, he saw with horror that he was on Back Lane heading in the direction of Newgate Prison. Of all the ill-fated places in Dublin to be right now, this was the worst. He didn’t want to become the third person murdered here in recent times! Knowing the lane as he did he ducked into the narrower run that led past the dwellings of the poor and led back to Nicholas Street or Francis Street depending on which turn you took at the split. Francis Street was the safer option and there he fled, jumping over sleeping animals and ducking under drying clotheslines.

  No matter how fast he ran, though, he couldn't escape the feeling that he was just about to be caught, that he was inches from death. His lungs ached and his thighs scorched like fire but still he ran, careening out onto Francis Street and almost losing his balance on the new surface here.

  A new idea came to him now, an idea he would never have thought possible. There was a small church near Market Hall not far from here. If he kept up this pace, he might make it. Would it be enough to stave off this death that followed him, perhaps not but it was all the idea he had and he had nothing left to lose.

  The church door was mercifully open as he burst up against it and he fell inside onto the cold floor. Looking up he saw that there was nobody there, but some candles had been lit off to the left, those for the dead if he recalled correctly. Was one of them for him?

  Scrambling to the front pew, desperation took over; the feeling of fear nauseating him and scattering his mind. He didn’t know if anyone had come in after him and he didn’t dare turn around. Facing the altar and kneeling he clasped his hands in prayer- something he’d not done since his boyhood in earnest. He shut his eyes tight and called on God for protection from this dark evil he knew was there.

  A footstep, heavy on the floor of the church and then one more. He, it, was inside now. The slow steps came closer along the aisle and Edwards couldn’t turn to face it. He felt the very life draining from his body like it was being drunk by this presence.

  “Mr Edwards?” a Germanic voice enquired from behind. Edwards turned in surprise and looked through wide eyes at Daniel Deek who stood towering in the aisle.

  “You?” Edwards said. Deek shook his head in what looked like pity.

  “I saw you run in and followed you,” he said, “I don’t understand,” he motioned to the church
around them. Edwards felt some of his sanity creep back and shame was not long to follow it. He rose but his legs were so weak he had to sit back down.

  “I can feel it,” Deek said breathing deeply. Edwards looked at him,

  “I did to,” he sighed.

  “You have spent your whole life running towards the Devil, Mr Edwards, and now when you feel him, you run away?” Deek sounded disappointed but he could never be as disappointed as Edwards felt just then. He didn’t answer the German but sat there happy to still be alive.

  Chapter 77

  Muc did not show up at Mullins’ house the night he chased Kate’s attacker. Though Mullins wasn’t worried about the veteran brawler he did think it odd that he didn’t come to the house later on to let them know what had happened. The following day Mullins went to Muc’s house on a couple of occasions but there was no sign of him all day. Now a little worry crept in and he began to ask people about the street if they had seen him. Most said of course that they had but didn’t know if it was in the last day or two days so it wasn’t of much use to Mullins. Was it possible the man had killed him after all? No- that couldn't be, that kind of a thing would be big news all over and there would be no way it wouldn’t have reached his ears by now. Still it was worrisome that he hadn’t shown up since the chase.

  When the knock came on his door two nights later, the heavy hand relieved Mullins and he sprang up to answer.

  “What the fuck happened?” he asked Muc who stood there looking a little the worse for wear. It was clear at once that he had been both drinking and fighting since Mullins last saw him.

  “I didn’t get him,” Muc said with a wave of his hand. Kate was beside Mullins now and she put her arm around his waist. Muc saw this and smiled knowingly at both of them. “All’s well, that ends well, eh!” he laughed. Mullins blushed and then could hear Mary and Sarah shuffling around behind, eager to hear what Muc had to say.

  “Come in,” Mullins said making way.

  “Would you not rather talk in the Cabin?” Muc asked.

  “I’m looking out for these at the minute,” Mullins said indicating Kate and the girls and Muc nodded in understanding before reluctantly stepping inside. Mullins was about to offer him a seat but he saw Muc didn’t intend staying; this was a room much too small to hold two men of their size comfortably.

  “Well, I won’t keep you from your evening,” Muc said, “I ran after him as you know, we crossed over the river and I started gaining on him but as we went along a laneway near Ormonde Street I lost him, he climbed up on the roof and kicked away the boxes he jumped up on. By the time I got up there, he was nowhere to be seen and that was the end of it. I never got a good look at him and that stupid cape he was wearing was flowing out all over the place, making it hard to even make out his size!”

  “You did your best,” Kate said, “and we very much appreciate it.”

  “He didn’t hurt you in the end?” Muc asked looking her face over.

  “A couple of bruises is all,” she said looking away from his gaze shyly.

  “So who did you end up fighting?” Mullins asked; he was sorry to hear the chase had been completely fruitless.

  “Some of the old Ormonde Boys,” Muc laughed, “You should have seen their faces when I came into their pub!”

  “I’m sure it was quite a scene,” Mullins smiled along. Memories of seeing those old gang fights came back to him and then the feelings he’d had in the one he took part in shot through him and he was surprised to feel he missed that feeling now.

  “It was,” Muc agreed, “After that I went celebrating with some of the old gang I rounded up!” Mullins could only imagine how that had went and how the establishment owner felt about it. “A few of the lads went on to Madame Mel’s after that but I wasn’t in the mood for that.” The mention of the brothel keeper was enough to send shivers of shame up Mullins’ spine and he could only hope it was not showing on his face.

  “I hate that woman,” Kate said and he was glad the focus came away from himself. “I met her a few weeks ago and she tried to make me jealous telling me about Tim’s new apprentice.”

  “Don’t be worrying about her,” Mullins said putting his arm around her shoulder and squeezing her a little. Kate leaned in him and smiled then saying, “She then started going on about her brother, saying he used to be an acrobat in the circus and now he’s a sailor!” She laughed at this.

  “That’s an odd mix,” Mullins smiled along with her.

  “She said he was in town about a month ago and was gone off again,” Kate recalled.

  “I wouldn't mind meeting a French sailor!” Sarah joked from behind and they all laughed.

  Mullins was thinking of how Mel had tried to sleep with him and how bad his bender had been after it. He vaguely recalled seeing Muc during that stupor but he thought it best not to ask in front of Kate. He glanced at Muc and saw a look of concentration on him he’d not seen before. Muc met his eyes and then seemed to snap out of it.

  “Well, I better be off to the cabin or some tavern,” he said and then to Mullins, “I can’t change your mind?”

  “Not tonight, Muc,” he shook his head, “But I have to say thanks to you for going after that man the other night.”

  “Think nothing of it,” Muc said, “Thanks would be fine if I’d have caught him, but I only ended up going for a run in the end,” he smiled. Mullins could see the genuine disappointment in Muc’s face and it was very endearing.

  “You very much deserve our thanks,” Kate said looking at Muc

  “You are always willing to help when we find ourselves alone at night and in danger,” Mary said recalling the night she ran into Muc.

  “Only if I’m sober enough,” he laughed and they all joined him in this.

  Chapter 78

  Since writing his letter to Alderman James, Spencer had moved about the city looking for avenues to explore to prove his innocence. A full beard hid his face now and he cloaked himself in the clothes of the poor in the hope of avoiding detection. He’d made a list of those men in the Hellfire Club and had made it his business to seek them out covertly and listen in on conversations they had in the street. He took up residence at the bar or in a corner of some of the taverns he knew the club congregated and listened. Even seeing the men’s faces again was bringing back memories to him of times spent with each that may exonerate him from more of the murders. He couldn’t risk talking to anyone of them, they would turn him in for sure, he felt, but if he could somehow get access to their diaries that might be the key to it all. The only thing was he had no idea how to do this.

  In desperation, he decided to go to Edwards to talk to him. Edwards was a strange fellow and more likely to leave him loose for fun than turn him in. Spencer did not think Edwards was behind this- he recalled Edwards’ reaction when Spencer told him about the Devil following him- but it was possible he knew something that might be able to help him. If not he might be just the man to come up with a way to get his hands on the diaries he needed instead.

  It took some time skulking near the service entrance of Edwards’ house but finally he mustered up the courage to go and knock on the door. He was getting quite used to these servant entrances and moving around in the dark- all skills that would have been useful if he had indeed been the killer he was accused of being.

  The man who answered the door made some work of it, but finally he went off to tell Edwards someone was here to see him. Spencer had said the man would be in a lot of trouble later on, if Edwards knew he’d been there and he’d not been informed. It was better not to use his name right now in case he had to flee.

  It came as a surprise when Edwards arrived at the back door himself. Spencer had expected to be brought inside or else told to leave.

  “Ah, if it isn’t the Shadow of the Dolocher!” Edwards exclaimed smiling. Spencer winced at this and looked around to see if anyone might have heard this but no one was around.

  “Please don’t call me that,” he said taking E
dwards offered hand.

  “Come in then,” Edwards said tugging on his arm. They walked into the house and Edwards ordered a servant to make up something to eat for Spencer and bring a good bottle of wine beforehand. Spencer felt he should decline this but he had eaten so poorly of late, he relished the idea of anything from Edwards’ kitchen.

  “So you’re on the run,” Edwards said when they were finally seated in a living room.

  “I’m trying to clear my name.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes,” Spencer said, “The madness is gone off me now and I know I didn’t kill anyone.”

  “You’ll have a hard time convincing anyone of that,” Edwards said with a mocking grin.

  “Be that as it may, I intend to do it.”

  “What has you turn up at my door? Do you imagine I can help you in some way?”

  “Maybe,” Spencer said, “I think the real killer was a member of the club.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “The man who tormented me was made up just as the Devil from my painting. The only people who ever saw that were in the club.”

  “I don’t think that’s true,” Edwards said, “I can think of at least three people who saw that painting who were not members of the club and that's before we look at your household staff.”

  “My staff had nothing to do with it and those people you talk of saw the painting after the person started tormenting me!” Spencer snapped.

  “No need to be so testy, Spencer,” Edwards grinned.

  “My life depends on this,” Spencer said, “That’s a lot of pressure to have on your shoulders.”

  “I think you are wrong about the killer being a member of the club, but what of it? What do you want from me?” Edwards said.

  “Have you heard anything, or thought someone was acting strangely, either at the time or now that the killings have started again.” Edwards looked to be in thought a moment and then shook his head.