by Mat Ridley
He continued. “My unwelcome visitor was proof enough that even without the wormy words of the witch’s curse eating away at my essence, time was short. By this point, I was feeling distinctly unwell, but whether that was because of the hex or because my toothsome assassin disagreed with my digestion, I could not tell you. Suffice to say that when I approached my next paramour a few days later, I had not properly recuperated, and it was an ill-judged effort. My loathsome quarry snuck out of her lair late at night, at the hour my fever burned its brightest, brighter than the moon, brighter even than Devorah’s smile. I hurried after her as swiftly as I could, not stopping to think if the moment was right, for time was running out for Jack, tick-tock-tick-tock, and there was still so much left to do. I soon caught up with her, but barely had time to get started before things went wrong. Certainly there was no time to do a proper job, to separate the cursed parts of her body wide from each other so they could not be rejoined. Just as I was getting warmed up, I espied a movement out of the corner of my eye, and looked up to see a tiny winged figure darting away from the vicinity, hate flashing in its emerald eyes. A homunculus! Not quite stealthy enough though, your escape, eh, master imp? Come, sweet Devorah, quickly, we must catch this one before he brings reinforcements!
“A mad dash through the streets ensued, as poor Jack coughed and stumbled his way after the familiar. Always just out of grasp, but never too far away to discourage. I should have known it was a trap, but the fever, ah, it dulled the instincts. After a merry chase, the goblin finally alighted on the shoulder of another woman, hastily whispered something in her ear, and then disappeared in a wisp of smoke, blending with the fog. I stepped up quickly towards the woman, and at an even more lively pace when I saw her starting to mumble and twitch her fingers in those arcane patterns I knew so well. Close thing! Just as the air began to crackle around us—and not from no storm, neither—up popped Devorah and glided gracefully across Madame’s throat, spraying her putrid red essence across my face. I could see the life fading from her eyes, but there was a devilish smile on her lips, and I knew that I had not been quick enough. She embraced me close, smearing me with her blood, and it was all I could do to get me knife up to try to cut myself free. I chopped and I hacked at her wicked face, but I was ensnared good and proper. And she wouldn’t be still! Whatever spell she had cast had given her the power to fight long after a decent human would have been at rest. Even when I eventually managed to wrestle myself free from her clutches, her hands continued to twitch and grasp their way towards me. I wanted to flee, aware that at any moment reinforcements could come, but I had to finish the job. Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live, remember, and although it was not life as you or I know it, still she moved. Such a mockery of the divine spark steeled my resolve! She must be dispatched!
“I was still sawing away at her belly when I became aware of the others. They loomed out of the shadows like the night ships down at the dear old Docks. Too many of them to fight, and all of them with spells on their lips. Ah well, Jack, ye had a good run, I thought to meself! I’m ready for the end, but no, what’s this? ‘You must be the one they are calling The Ripper,’ one of them says. ‘Prudence would suggest that we deal with you here and now before you turn on us, Witch Slayer, but we must admit to being somewhat impressed by the chaos you have wrought on our dear friends in the Rotting Log.’ The way she said ‘dear friends’, I knew they were anything but! ‘Perhaps you may be of use to us. We could make it worth your while, and relieve you of the curse that we can see afflicting you. But here is not the place for bargains to be struck. Come, sisters, let us leave this waste’—she kicked at what was left of my latest conquest—‘and take our fancy gentleman back to more convivial surroundings.’
“She was a well-spoken one, that’s for sure. Lilith was her name, head of the Five Sisters Coven, although there were a lot more than five of them and none of them were sisters, least not by any decent reckoning. I was placed into the care of a fair creature called Mary Jane, who was to be my nurse and my gaoler until I had been brought back to health and until the Sisters had decided exactly how best to use me. Ah, she was cunning, that Lilith, for it was told to me from the start that Mary Jane did not suckle at the Devil’s breast, and not being a witch, therefore, I had no grounds on which to think bloody thoughts towards her. Quite the opposite, as it turned out, for she was a comely maid; it’s a good thing my hands were bound, for the way she spooned that look of hers into my eyes as she spooned food into my mouth, well, that was a witchcraft all of its own. Or maybe the other Sisters had spiced my rations with one of their philtres, who knows. Either way, it wasn’t long before old Jack was besotted with his keeper, despite the company she kept. All my furious thoughts of escape rolled over and purred at her words, and I grew strong again under her ministrations.
“Ah, but I should have known that Adonai would not approve of Jack’s soliciting with the Devil’s brood, nor of the blasphemous thoughts that came as my strength and confidence returned. Perhaps, I reasoned, I could continue to wage war against the dark forces right enough, but leave those witches dear to Mary Jane in peace. Surely that would still be acceptable, better than nothing, hm? But kind Adonai showed Jack the error of his ways!
“One day, about a month after my capture, I fell asleep, the sweet sound of Mary Jane’s singing in my ears as she sewed, the sweet sight of Devorah nearby, shining in the firelight. Jack and his ladies, what a charming domestic scene! But another voice disrupted the melody, and Jack’s brain swam lazily to wakefulness as this one came into focus. Lilith! From the low and urgent tone of her voice, I knew that a pretence of sleep should be maintained, the better to learn what low and urgent business she had in mind. Ah, and then the deception unfolded: it became clear that Mary Jane’s purity was all a lie, merely a ruse designed to keep old Jack well behaved, and her charms—both natural and unnatural—were apparently well known amongst the Five Sisters for keeping menfolk on a short, gilded leash. As each vile word of their conversation plunged into my mind, wounds opened, poisoned with the truth, more lethal than any that Devorah and I had perpetrated when about our work. And there was naught I could do but lie there, and accept the lesson. Your work is not done, Jack, and this woman is not for you; you must obey My commandments, not your own. She is to be destroyed!
“I thank the Lord for whatever He did that evening that brought me back to timely consciousness—both literally and metaphorically! Mary Jane’s affections might have been a safeguard designed to prevent the dog from turning on its masters, but little did my ‘masters’ know that the dog was wise to their game, and mindful of who its real master was! Yes, the shards of Jack’s heart were tumbling to the ground, but with his placid appearance, the witches suspected nothing was wrong, and their treachery filled me with a purpose that soothed the pain. Unlike Christ, recoiling from His divine appointment on the cross and pleading for the cup to be passed to another, I gladly accepted the task that Adonai commissioned to me. By the time Lilith came to leave, no regrets remained about what I had been shown I must do, only anxiety about the intricacies of the execution. Ha ha, a fine pun, don’t you think?
“In the silence after Lilith’s departure, I was careful to maintain a steady pattern of breathing for a while. Slowly, the sleeping giant awakened, turning to gaze into his beloved’s eyes, a reassuring smile on his lips. He radiates love when all that is within him is hate and crushed dreams. His look says yes, it is safe to approach, dear Mary Jane; his mouth says he is hungry. Perhaps I could trouble you for a little food? Thank you. What’s that? No, I was paying attention, I was merely distracted by the firelight reflected in the blade of my knife. You say you are going to free me? Now? I thought the plan was for me to regain my strength before venturing forth, and in truth, I am still a little fatigued (see how cunning I am not to let her know my true strength!). Forget the plan, you say? You cannot stand by while the Five Sisters treat me this way; let us flee this nest of vipers!
“As you ca
n imagine, Jack was sorely puzzled by this sudden and unexpected development. Oh, that it were true, that dear Mary Jane was as much a prisoner as I, and that I could free her from this infernal company! But as she untied the knots that held me, her talk of escape did not ring as true as the conspiratorial plotting with her bloody sister had done, and Jack knew, he knew, that it was a trick. God had not commanded me to run away from these abominations, but to engage with them and purge them from society! So confident in her black art is Mary Jane that she even presses Devorah into my now-unbound hands, urging me to help her open the window and slip away into the night. For a moment, standing dumbfounded behind her as she rattles at the latch, I almost succumb to her sweet temptation, but then Devorah began to sing, and with that, the enchantment was finally undone! With all the strength of the angels of Adonai, I plunged my blade into Mary Jane’s neck, and not just once, either; with my release, a torrent of emotion swept Jack into a frenzy. He hates; he loves; he sings; he sobs; but at no point does his holy knife pause in its work, its gleaming blade furiously sending this most deceptive of harlots to oblivion, piece by piece.”
Jack lapsed into silence, and the familiar sounds of the battle in Purgatory eagerly leapt in to fill the gap. I realised just how little I had noticed their absence; Jack’s story had captivated me just as surely as the witches’ spells he described, and coupled with the fatigue that swam through my body, the whole experience of listening to him was like living through somebody else’s dream. That might be exactly what it was, of course—it was still quite possible that my rescuer had merely deluded himself into thinking he was Jack the Ripper—but if he was who he said he was, then it certainly wouldn’t be the strangest thing I had come across in the afterlife. And if he wasn’t… well, what did it matter? There was no way I could possibly tell truth from madness, and the state I was in, I was happy not to try too hard anyway. My brain had already had enough to be getting on with for one day, thank you, and was doing its best to wrap itself up in the telling of Jack’s story, rather than dwelling on the fact that I had lately been judged beyond redemption.
I was still trying to get my head around the years—the decades—that Jack must have been trapped in Purgatory, when he resumed his tale once again. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I could hear tears in his voice.
“I made sure she was dead before I left. Oh yes, nice and sure. Not just because I needed to make amends to Adonai for my transgressions. Not just because I was angry at her deception. And not just because I exalted in being able to practice my craft again, neither, although that was a bittersweet pleasure. No, I had to send a clear message to the rest of the sorceresses: Jack would be no witch’s pet! And they’d better be ready when their time came!
“I left the room all neat and tidy—after a fashion, heh heh—and stole away into the night, right out the front door. There were no other guards to hinder my passage, and the fact of their absence proved Mary Jane’s mendacity. Why else would she encourage us to leave through a window, if a perfectly good door was to hand, unless it was to lend credence to her deception? You may say she did not know, and wished to avoid any risk of being seen as we escaped, but I will hear no such words. I know I was right!
“My soul sang at the rediscovery and revalidation of its purpose, ah, but perhaps a little too loudly, for I did not notice the sound of my approaching doom until it was too late.” I felt myself lifted high as Jack took a deep breath and let it out in an enormous sigh. The part of my mind that was not entirely consumed by Jack’s tale noted that as my body shifted, there was now only a resentful mutter of pain instead of an urgent scream. “Yes, that very same night, I, too, met my end. Not at the hands of the coven, no. I like to think my sudden disappearance led them a merry dance. Instead, a humbling, inglorious way for Jack to die. After all his struggles against the armies of the unholy, after all the battles in his crusade, he meets his end in a dim Whitechapel alleyway at the end of the knife of a common cutthroat. How’s that for cruel irony? One moment I am the sharp point of God’s wrath, the next I’m flat on me back with a knife hole in my gut and some vagabond whistling off down the street with what little money he found in my pockets.
“I lay there in the dark, bleeding, dying, weeping, life ebbing out of me, I know not how long for, and all the while wondering what I had done to invoke Adonai’s wrath so shortly after He had freed me to resume His work. But I should have known better than to doubt Him. Jack was not being removed from the battle, no, but was being promoted instead, here, to the front lines, in Purgatory! This is where the real war is fought! My work in Whitechapel was all well and good, but here, ah, just look at the banquet of opportunities there is to feast on! Praise God for His blessings! Praise God!”
I myself felt disinclined to do so. I could not tell whether the ache in my chest was due to the sword I had so recently stuck through it, or because the chances of seeing Jo again looked smaller than ever, but it didn’t seem to matter either way. The cold fact remained that God had completely abandoned me, and despite all the progress I thought I had made during my time in Purgatory, I was right back where I’d started from. Or worse. The conclusion to Jack’s tale filled me with a leaden sense of despair. I had hoped that his story would give me some kind of hope or understanding, but in the end, his was just another case of someone who had placed all his faith in God, and for what good? If he hadn’t already been mad before he came to Purgatory, then the decades trapped here had done the job instead, and if this was the fate that I had to look forward to now that I was stuck here too, then perhaps I was no better off than if Jack had left me to the demons after all.
Chapter 20
I must have passed out around that time, because the next thing I knew, we were back inside the city again. Jack gently lowered me to my feet and stood back. I fully expected to collapse in a bleeding heap, but my legs were steady. I took an experimental breath. No trace of pain remained. If it hadn’t been for the glut of half-dried blood across the front of my armour, I wouldn’t have believed I had ever been injured, let alone close to death. I looked up at Jack, my disbelief clearly written on my face, judging by his joyful laugh.
“Amazing, is it not? As good as new! But now you must promise me that you will take better care of this body of yours, this gift from Adonai. He did not give it to ye to squander, but to serve Him with. Suicide is not the answer!”
“I hate to disappoint you, Jack, but God doesn’t care what I do with this body anymore. Right before you came to my rescue, one of the angels told me that God won’t save me ever again. I’m damned if I’m going out there on the battlefield again; quite literally, if any of the demons catch me.”
“Pah, what do the Silvertops know? They told me long ago that Jack was out of favour with God, but just look at me! Every day I cut a swath through Satan’s rabble, and every day I return safely to Jerusalem.” A sly look came into his eyes. “You know something? I suspect the Lord is testing us, my friend; only the greatest of His warriors are challenged to face such impossible odds. But with faith, prayers and a good blade in your hand, how can you fail?”
“No offence, Jack, but I had enough of God’s ‘tests’ in my old life, and none of them did me any good. Forgive me if I’m having trouble seeing this latest development as somehow being the best possible thing that could have happened to me.”
“But it is, don’t you see? A sword does not become strong without being plunged repeatedly into the fire and beaten with the hammer. It is not that Adonai hates you, sir, but that He wants to forge you into a mighty instrument of His will! I recognised that spirit of steel in you the first day we met, and what I’ve seen of your work on the battlefield since that day—yes, I’ve been watching—only confirms it.” Jack laughed. “Even a stupid thing like sticking a sword through your own ribcage takes the kind of courage that few men ever know! Ah, if only I could get it through to you. All ye need do is recognise that your hardships are what bring you closer to God; that’s precisely why he pu
ts you through them. Once you understand that, you can release the resentment that you harbour and fulfil your true potential. The demons would not stand a chance!”
“Maybe, maybe not. But I’m in no rush to get myself killed fighting for a God who’s given up on me.”
Jack’s frown was like a winter cloud. “Such fear does not suit you well, sir.”
“It’s not fear—at least not of what’s out there. It’s pragmatism. I don’t have the kind of faith in God that you do, Jack, and Him having just turned his back on me doesn’t exactly make me want to burst out singing ‘Jesus loves me, this I know’. I just can’t figure it out. I really thought I was beginning to understand what He wanted of me, but then suddenly He turns everything on its head again and leaves me feeling like shit. The only thing I’m certain of at the moment is that running around a field full of demons without any kind of safety net is a good way to get myself killed, permanently, and I’m not going to be any good to my wife like that. That’s the only thing that scares me, Jack: that I won’t ever get to see her again.”
“Ah yes, the woman I see fighting by your side so often. I understand your concern. You are a lucky man!”
“No, that’s not my wife, that’s Harper. My wife’s name is Jo. She went to Heaven almost straight after she died, whereas I got stuck here instead. I’ve been trying to figure out how to get back to her ever since. I know what you’re going to say, and it’s the same thing as everyone else in this damned place: trust in God, make your peace with Him and everything will work out just fine. Believe me, I’ve tried. I really have. And what do I get for my trouble? ‘Sorry, Dan, not good enough. Game over.’ Now all I’ve got to look forward to is Hell, or an eternity trapped in this fucking shit heap, which amounts to pretty much the same thing.”