by Tim Marquitz
Scarlett glanced at me and mouthed the name, giving a subtle shake of her head. I shrugged.
“Good morning, Joseph. Call me Thomas, please. Can I speak to your father?”
His eyes drifted from me to Scarlett, suddenly widening. While I’d had her stash her blades so she wasn’t walking around town like Blackbeard the pirate, I doubted the kid would even notice if she were dragging a cannon along behind her. He was enthralled in a heartbeat, and hadn’t even noticed the bit of blood that stained my jacket. I couldn’t blame him for being so smitten, but I could, however, take advantage of it.
“My associate here,” I gestured toward my cousin, “Scarlett, would love to speak to your father.” With a shooing motion, I ushered Scarlett inside, right past the awestruck boy who barely managed to get his feet working well enough to step out of the way. “If you don’t mind, Joseph, fetch your father, please.”
He nodded dumbly and stood there staring at Scarlett until I nudged him down the hall.
“We’re in a bit of a hurry, boy.”
Finally he managed to pry his eyes off her and darted down the hall, nearly running into the wall.
Scarlett sighed once he was gone. “Did you have to tease the boy like that?”
I raised my hands. “Don’t blame me. God made you beautiful, I just made you useful.”
She growled low in her throat but swallowed it back, Joseph bounding down the hall.
“My father will see you.” He smiled, his gaze locked on Scarlett like he’d forgotten I was even there. “This way, please, ma’am.” Joseph latched onto her arm and led her off to George’s study. “He’ll join us in a moment.”
Scarlett cast a sideways glance at me, and I could help but smile as I strolled after the cute couple. At the study, Joseph helped her inside and into a seat, hovering just behind her. He was doing his best to be a gentleman, but I could see his eyes wandering over and over toward her chest and the loose collar that threatened to reveal them.
“No, don’t worry, I’ll find my own seat, Joseph.” I chuckled and dropped into the chair beside my cousin. The boy didn’t even notice I’d spoken, but Scarlett glared at me.
A few moments later, George came into the room. “Thank you, Joseph. We’ll be fine.”
The boy held his ground as though he might defy George, casting one last desperate glance at Scarlett before his father chased him from the room. He shut the door with a sullen thump.
“I apologize for my son,” George said as he sat across from us, his gaze drifting to Scarlett as if just noticing her, unconsciously sizing her assets up. There was an awkward pause before he went on, forcing his eyes from her chest and over to me. “Would either of you care for a drink?”
“No thanks.” I’d always imagined God added magnets to the recipe when He made Scarlett because everyone’s eyes were drawn to her tits and ass. George was no different. He kept looking at me but it was like he couldn’t help but cast wayward glances at my cousin.
To her credit, she just smiled and ignored it.
“This is Scarlett,” I told George, giving him the opportunity to look at her without feeling guilty. “She works for me.”
Scarlett rolled her eyes my direction and gnawed at her lip as if getting ready to say something.
I ignored her and went on. “We have reason to believe Jack the Ripper is one of your people, George, one of the Vigilance Committee.”
George stared at Scarlett a moment, and then snapped his head to look at me as if what I’d said finally registered. “One of us?” He slumped into his seat as though deflated. “I can’t believe—” His hand drifted to the desk drawer.
I nodded. “Take a drink if you need one to process all this, but I’m serious.”
He pulled his bottle from the drawer and offered it to us. We both waved it off, so George popped the seal and drank straight from the bottle. After several lengthy swallows, he set the brandy down and let out a slow, deep breath. The liquor wafted across the room. Scarlett wrinkled her nose at the scent.
“How do you know it’s one of us?” George asked. His voice was barely a whisper.
“Actually, we’re pretty certain that it’s more than just one person,” Scarlett said.
George grabbed the bottle at hearing her words, chugging down another mouthful. His chin drooped toward his chest when he was done, the bottle hanging from his fingers.
“I stumbled across a suspicious man,” I told him, “but lost him when my associate and I were attacked by a group of men claiming to represent the Committee. After we’d picked up his trail again, we found him hiding in a derelict home.”
“You captured him?” George sat upright, nearly losing hold of his brandy.
Scarlett shook her head and pointed at my coat. “No, he managed to get away after wounding Fra—Mister Yardlow, here.” She winked at me.
George noticed the blood on my jacket for the first time. “You’re hurt. Do you need—” He started to get up.
“Just a graze. The coat will need more stitches than I will.” I waved him back into his seat “Alongside Jack were several men who’d attacked us earlier; ones claiming to be part of your organization.”
George’s eyes closed. He took another sip and set the bottle aside, running his hands through his hair as he stared at the face of his desk. His lower lip quivered, and he bit down on it. This wasn’t something he wanted to hear.
“How well do you know Charles Braun?”
“Charles?” Lusk looked up at me, surprise etched across his features. “He’s a good man; a moral, family man. He wouldn’t condone these murders or the attack on you. There must be some mistake.” George shook his head in defiance.
I raised my hands to pacify him. “I’m not casting blame, just simply eliminating suspects.” Which was somewhat true. I had no idea who was behind the killings but it didn’t take a genius to realize that Braun’s men were far more likely to be behind the attack than Lusk’s followers, planting the spotlight squarely on Braun, regardless. He might not be directly connected, but his people sure wanted Scarlett and me out of the way. That didn’t exactly paint him in a positive light.
“Is Charles a stocky man?” Scarlett asked. “Middle-aged; of average height and strong build?”
George shook his head. “No, no, not even close. Charles is middle-aged, certainly, but he’s thin as a raven, with hair as dark as one. Quite tall, as well. He’s stands above me by half a head.”
Scarlett smiled then, reaching across the desk to pat George’s trembling hand. “Then it isn’t Charles we seek, so rest easy.”
George let loose a quiet sigh, his gaze locked on Scarlett’s pale hand.
“That settled,” though I wasn’t really sure it was, “we need your assistance to root out Jack and his followers.”
“How do you propose to do that?”
I smiled. “I’ll tell you.”
Twelve
“Do you really think this is going to work?” Scarlett asked.
I shrugged. “Maybe.” It wasn’t like I’d had a grab bag full of options. The plan was the plan, for better or worse.
After telling George what I wanted him to do, I let him in on the latest killing, giving him the location and just enough details to make sure he was angry that yet another woman had been murdered under his watch and so he could inform the police. Believing his people were in on it would light a fire under his ass and have him hustling to help set the trap convincingly enough. And while Lusk might trust Braun not to be involved, I certainly didn’t. But even if he wasn’t, it was clear his people were somehow.
I’d left out my suspicions of the murders being ritualistic to keep George from asking too many questions, but I’d provided him enough information to be sure he’d spread it around, and quickly. I wanted Braun’s lackeys to know that it was me who discovered the body, and that I was closing in on the killer. Wherever Jack was, he and his associates needed to feel like they were under the gun. I wanted them cagey.
&nbs
p; Scarlett and I watched from a neighboring rooftop as the members of the Vigilance Committee gathered and filed into the local meeting hall where they always met. George had passed the news on without hesitation, and his people were responding just as I’d hoped. With barely sixty some-odd members to their credit, it would be easy to account for who wasn’t there, and that was George’s job.
I didn’t figure any of the thugs who’d attacked us would show up, let alone ol’ Jacky himself, but you can never be too certain. That’s why we were camped on top of a nearby roof where we could get a clear view of the only entrance into the hall. If Jack popped in, we’d take him down on the street. If he didn’t show his face, well, he would likely pop up soon enough.
“I saw someone fitting Braun’s description go inside, but I don’t recognize any of the men from the alley or the house,” Scarlett said.
“Me either.” That fact made me feel a little better about the plan.
If the thugs couldn’t be bothered to show up for appearance’s sake, they were more likely to be out looking for Scarlett and me. And seeing how George had made it clear we had information that would reveal who the Ripper was, it was only matter of time until they showed up, whether Braun was involved or not.
I checked my pistol, making sure it was loaded and ready to go, and slipped it back into my coat pocket, my fingers reluctantly releasing it. “Guess it’s time.” The fun part was just beginning.
Scarlett nodded.
A quick breath steadied my nerves as I crossed the rooftop and jumped to the building beside it and made my way down several blocks of rooftops before I stopped above a battered tenement building. I surveilled the nearby area to make sure I was alone, and then hopped over to the one story apartment we’d rented after leaving George’s in the morning. We’d prepared a quick entryway in the roof, allowing me to slip inside without being noticed, the only door to the apartment at the back of the dark alley separating it from the building next door. With all the windows boarded up, the door was the only apparent entrance.
Once inside, I pulled the roof panel shut and bolted it down. The darkness settled over me.
Dust wafted up as I moved about the small room, settling atop the shallow pool of liquid that puddled near the door as I examined the last minute preparations I’d made. Scarlett had provided cover while I hauled in pieces of wood and metal to provide some miniscule measure of cover once shit went down. I’d erected a couple of makeshift walls that I could duck behind, since I was certain Jack would bring his gun. His pals would probably have a couple, as well. And while I could handle being shot once or twice, more than that would slow me down too much. The last thing I needed was Jack adding me to his list of victims. That would just be embarrassing.
With as much confidence as I could muster, I stood in the middle of the room and waited, hand buried in my pocket, fingers massaging the pistol grip. I figured Jack would wait until George’s emergency meeting started before trying anything. He wouldn’t want to the Committee to see him taking me out, so it made sense to would wait until they were busy. And seeing how Lusk told folks I had a description of the Ripper but wasn’t ready to divulge it to anyone just yet, not even George, Jack would be desperate to make sure I never did. I just hoped Lusk had been as subtle as I coached him to be. If Jack thought I was luring him into a trap, my little surprise could come to a horrible conclusion.
My heart thumped loudly in my chest as I stood there wondering what the hell I was doing. I’d planned for a quick escape if things went bad, but I just couldn’t get comfortable being the bait. It wasn’t a good feeling.
I glanced up at the roof panel and contemplated climbing out and surprising Jack outside, but I knew that was a mistake. Out on the streets, there was plenty of room to run and hide and disappear. Inside the tiny apartment, there was nowhere for him to go. We might exchange gunfire, but I was betting I could take more bullets than he could. The odds were in my favor inside, I kept telling myself. The nagging voice of reason, however, reminded me they weren’t good, no matter how I fudged the numbers.
A quiet creak at the front snapped my attention back to reality. Someone was leaning against the door, listening. I held my breath and eased my revolver out. Things were about to get real hectic.
Then there was an odd scratching noise outside, as if a cat were clawing at the door to get in. It went on for a minute or so, a slow, methodical scrape. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what the hell it was. If Jack was trying to kill me with suspense, he was doing a damn good job of it. The scritching sound deepened for an instant, and then I felt the cold draft of magic tingle against my senses, a phantom itch that prickled the hairs on my arms. I recognized the feeling immediately. Jack had cast a ward on the apartment.
I drew a deep breath as the reality of what he’d done sunk in. Unlike the silencing sigil he’d set in the wall at the murder scene, this ward was aimed outward, so to speak. I could hear my pulse thrumming through my ears and the creak of my knuckles on the Webley, the quiet shuffle of feet outside, but I’d been sealed inside the magical barrier. Anything that happened in the apartment would be blocked from the ears of anyone on the other side of the wall. Jack had cut me off from the world with an apprentice level spell, and I hadn’t even given it a thought. I sighed. Uncle Lou would be so proud of me. My only thought was to survive long enough to lie to the old man. Jack didn’t give me time for anything else.
Unlocked, the copper knob turned with the barest of sounds, and then the door was flung open, slamming into the wall. The stomp of boots resounded heavily as five men stormed inside, and I could see the shadows of several more lingering outside. Jack might to realize he was walking into a trap, but he was ready, regardless.
My eyes shifted from the door to the men in front of me. I recognized several of them from our encounter in the alley. An instant later, I was staring down the dark barrels of a handful of pistols, a serenade of hammers being cocked back in unison.
“Evening, gentlemen.” Only fifteen feet from the impromptu firing squad, I questioned just how fast I could dive behind my ramshackle barricades before I got my balls shot off. Reason laughed its ass off in the back of my brainpan.
None of the men so much as batted an eyelid at my greeting. They stood without moving, guns pointed my direction without saying a word. Their faces were screwed up into forced sneers, and their hands quivered behind the triggers. I met them with a smile. For all their willingness to beat a man down in a dark alley, none seemed very comfortable behind their pistols. These men weren’t murderers by nature. They were here because they’d been made to come here.
“Where’s Jack?”
A quiet chuckle answered my question. Jack sauntered into the room, easing the door shut at his back, sealing his rear guard outside. His pistol hung at his side in a casual grip. Unlike his partners, there was no stiffness in how he held it. The gun was an extension of his massive arm. Jack was a killer, through and through.
He stared at me through narrow, dark eyes, his gray bowler set high on his head. He was every bit as large as I remembered, his thick chest rising and falling with an easy cadence. His face was neatly shaven and his clothes immaculate, something I hadn’t noticed the last two times I’d seen him. Despite that, there was no hiding the pugilist beneath all the civilized decorum.
“Nice to know you’re as stupid as you look,” I told him. Baalth’s advice about keeping my mouth shut echoed in my head, but I pushed it aside and smiled. Sometimes you just needed to tempt the bull. I just hoped I didn’t get the horns all up in my squirrely bits.
“And this is from the man who trapped himself with no way out except through us. You think your girly can get through my men?” He shook his head. “I’ll add her to my collection before the night’s out, be sure of that, mate.” Jack grinned as he stepped toward, easing between his men whose guns never faltered. He added his to the array. “You should have minded your own business. Now you’re going to be just one more mutilated b
ody for the police to scrape up. I wonder if you’ve a cunt to cut out so I can leave it dripping on the doorstep.” Jack laughed, baring his teeth.
I met his cold eyes. He knew I’d set him up, but he had no clue who I was or what I was capable of. Better still, he didn’t have the slightest idea about Scarlett. She was just a pretty face he wanted to carve up. I’d like to see him try.
“Actually, I’m sure my girly can do exactly that.” I only hoped Scarlett wasn’t waiting on the sound of gunfire before she decided to make an appearance.
Then, as if on cue, there was a loud thud right outside the tiny apartment, the sound followed by a tattoo of meaty thumps. I smiled, glad that my cousin had been watching rather than listening. The drumming ended in muffled grunts that went silent immediately after. Then something heavy fell against the door.
That’s when hell broke loose.
Jack didn’t wait to see what happened. He just started pulling the trigger.
Bullets flew, and I ducked for cover. One grazed my thigh as I slipped behind my makeshift shield, but a second shot slammed into my shin. I felt the bone splinter as I hit the ground. A gush of blood warmed my leg and spilled into my boot before the pain registered. It was if someone had started a fire under my skin. I growled as bullets pinged against the metal covering and thunked into the wood. Splinters rained down over me as I crawled to the corner of the barrier where I’d left a tiny space open so I could return fire from safety.
I stuck the barrel of my Webley through the hole and fired. Screams rang out and the flurry of bullets increased. The smell of gunpowder was stifling, an acrid, bitter stink invading my throat and nose. There was nowhere for the smoke to go. It billowed up and grew thick in the air, making it hard to see and breathe. I just kept firing until my revolver clicked empty.
The door burst open then, brightness pushing its way past the hazy gloom. As I struggled to reload in the sudden lull of gunfire, I heard the unmistakable calling card of an abattoir, the blade striking meat. Men shrieked as Scarlett cut into them. They’d crossed the line opening fire the way they did. She was an avenging angel now, doing the Lord’s work, Old Testament style. They’d all be dead in a moment, but I wanted my share of Jack’s ass.
