The Reaper's Kiss

by Robert Southworth

  “She is as well pacing, as sitting in bed,” a voice sounded from the stairs.

  “Miss Bull, is this normal?” Simeon asked, as his face blushed crimson. He knew that he was not cut out for this kind of work. Give him pirates of the coast of Africa, sinking trade vessels around the Horn or salt of the earth crooks raiding his diamond mines. Those were pressures he understood, but women giving birth, he was lost, overwhelmed and feared to make matters worse.

  “There isn’t a normal. A baby doesn’t wear a uniform and march to a military band. Both mother and baby have to work this out between themselves. We are here should the mother need help.”

  “Gruhhhh!” Emily gave an almost beast-like grunt, which made Simeon jump. “I want William. He promised me that he would be at my side.”

  “I’m sure he is trying, Emily,” Simeon replied.

  Emily placed a hand on Simeon’s face, and just for a moment, her smile returned.

  “You look terrified,” she whispered.

  “I am,” Simeon replied. “Is there anything you need?”

  “I just want William back. Find him for me, Simeon, please.”

  “I will, Emily. I promise you that I will bring him back.” Simeon knew that he shouldn’t have given his word. William’s return to Cloveney Hall was out of his hands, but at this point, he knew Emily needed hope, not realism.

  “The last thing we need is another man under my feet,” Miss Bull announced. “Sir Simeon, if you could get that fool Tomkins, to hurry along with the water and towels. Or do I have to pray to God so that he sends the angels to aid this birth.”

  Simeon had the feeling that Mrs Bull was not impressed with him giving his word to bring William home. However, it was the last sentence that lingered in his mind, but he had no reason why.

  “Erm – Yes, I will see to it.” He leaned forward and kissed Emily on the cheek, before going in search of Tomkins.

  Simeon entered Cloveney Hall’s substantial kitchen. Tomkins was seated at the table, nursing a drink. He tried to rise, but Simeon indicated that he should remain seated.

  “Miss Bull was wondering when the towels and water will be ready?”

  “She asked for the water to be boiled, and then allowed to cool,” Tomkins replied. He looked like a man that was struggling to hold his tongue.

  “Such times play on the nerves. I think her bark is worse than her bite.”

  Tomkins sighed and blew out his cheeks.

  “Forgive me. I have to admit that the woman gets under my skin. How a woman can be so caring and gentle to all she meets, and yet, only have scorn for me.” He shook his head.

  “You think that she targets you?”

  “It seems that way.”

  “It has been my experience that people often use scorn to hide their feelings.” Simeon gave a teasing smile.

  “What - no it couldn’t be. Besides, she’s half my age. I mean - she’s an uncommon beauty, but…” Tomkins stuttered.

  “You think she’s beautiful?” Simeon asked.

  Tomkins recovered his composure.

  “On the outside, but within, she is a demon. If you don’t mind me saying, the sooner the baby arrives, the better.”

  “On that we are in agreement.” Simeon suddenly stopped talking as face swam into his mind. “His bones will turn to dust amongst the angels of a false God.”

  “Are you feeling all right, sir.”

  “The man at the brewery said that William’s fate was to die amongst God’s angels,” Simeon replied.

  “How can a man die with the angels?”

  “Unless he meant angels that walk the earth. They would need to be observant of God, and do his work.”

  “Such as a priest?”

  “He said angels, meaning more than one. Tomkins, go to my desk and fetch the papers. They are in the top left drawer.” As Tomkins went to get the papers, Simeon crossed to the pantry. He opened the door and spied a large wooden box. He knew that the box had been Obadiah’s hiding place for his whiskey. Simeon lifted the lid and peered inside. He smiled as his hand grasped a bottle that was half full.

  As Simeon returned to the table, Tomkins re-entered the kitchen. He placed the document in front of Simeon and then made to carry on with his duties.

  “Have a drink, Tomkins.”

  “I have my duties, sir.”

  “One will not hurt. Besides, if I’m correct about the angels, then you will have other duties.” Simeon began searching through the documents. He knew the list was there somewhere. Finally, he smiled as he lifted the note into the air. He unfolded the paper and eagerly searched for the name of a property. It was with some relief that the very last entry on the list was what he wanted to see. “Hartshill Castle.” He victoriously slapped the paper onto the table.”

  “Castle?” Tomkins looked bemused.

  “The name is misleading. It is no more than a fortified collection of buildings. However, and more importantly, Hartshill Castle is inhabited by the Order of Fontevrault.”

  “Uh?”

  “Nuns, Tomkins. Can you ride?” Simeon asked excitedly.

  “Pardon?”

  “Can you ride, man?”

  “Yes,” Tomkins replied.

  “Then I need you to take a message to Ashby St Ledgers. There is no time to lose.” Simeon started to scribble a note.

  “But my duties?”

  “There are more than enough within the household. This task is of the utmost importance. I would not trust its delivery to any but you.”

  Chapter 28

  The day was ignorant of the woes of both William and Emily, and so, relentlessly marched toward night. William had stubbornly refused to meet with Alpha, twice. He had, however, agreed to speak with him as the sun went down. It would be a nervous wait, only broken when Faraday paid a visit to finalise plans. William took the pistol that Faraday had given him previously and tucked it within his jacket. He sat on the edge of his bed in deep thought. He went over the plan within his head. Tiny seeds of doubt began to take hold. Could he trust Faraday? Even with the fallen policeman staying true to his word, it would take a Herculean effort to escape the castle. Two men against at least a dozen enemy, who had no reservations about robbing a man of his life. Perhaps the Ripper had foreseen the attempt, and this was merely one of his games. He was not a man that sort favours from God, but on this night, he gave a small prayer.

  “Just give me the strength to breach the walls and seek safety in the night,” he whispered to himself.

  His mind wandered to thoughts of Emily. Had she been a member of Cronos? Had she taken a blade to Mary Kelly? Or had the Ripper found his weakness, and if so, to what end? William had so many questions requiring answers. However, the footsteps in the hall drew his attention. He lay back and placed his arms behind his head in an attempt to look relaxed.

  Coldridge entered the room, wearing the usual look of disdain for William, but he refrained from aggression.

  “You are required.”

  “No beating today? The meeting with your master must have tamed the savage beast.” William made no attempt to hide his sarcasm. Coldridge did not reply but drew a pistol and waved it in the direction that William should go. Both men walked through the corridors of Hartshill Castle without engaging in conversation. William could feel the burning stare of Coldridge’s eyes upon the back of his head. He wondered how tempted Coldridge was to raise the pistol and pull the trigger. He knew that bloody murder came easy to Coldridge, but doubted that he would risk the enraging his master.

  “Stop!” Coldridge ordered.

  William stepped aside as his chaperone forced his way passed and rapped his knuckles against the door to their front. A voice within called out that they should enter. Coldridge opened the door and then pushed William inside.

  “I have brought Harkness as requested,” Coldridge announced without looking at Alpha, his stare fixed firmly on the floor.

  “Gratitude, you may leave. I am sure that William will offer his wo
rd that no attempt at murder or escape will take place.”

  “I do,” William replied. He then turned to Coldridge and asked, “are you still here?”

  Coldridge stared at William, his face a picture of pure hatred.

  “I will be in the hall, Alpha,” Coldridge announced. He walked from the room and closed the door.

  “I cannot see any other outcome than one of you killing the other.”

  “Charles Coldridge will be face down and bleeding in the dirt before I Leave this world,” William replied.

  “He is a far more dangerous character these days, William. You would do well to stay clear.”

  “I thought you could see into a man’s very soul. You, however, do not know me,” William replied.

  “Oh, I know that you will charge in. Defender of the weak – the man who takes wrongdoers to task. It’s only a matter of time before you get yourself killed, but that doesn’t matter does it. You would readily lay down your life for others, a little too readily.” Alpha picked up his glass of wine and eyed William.

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “I think you want to die. The role of fallen hero, a martyr to be worshipped. Your self-loathing is evident. You just want others to hold you in higher regard, and your death is a price worth paying.”

  “You think so?” William replied.

  Any reply was denied by an explosion that shook the castle. The glass from the windows exploded inward and knocked Alpha from his chair. As the dust settled, Alpha used the table to get to his feet, only to be confronted with William holding a pistol.

  “What now, William? Do you hope to use me as a captive to secure your freedom?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” William raised the pistol and fired. Alpha’s head was snapped back as the bullet struck. He was thrown into the air and then crashed back to the ground. William, however, was not permitted to enjoy his moment of victory as the door was swung open. Coldridge rushed in, brandishing a pistol. William aimed and fired. There was no burst of flame or loud bang; the pistol had jammed. William looked to Coldridge, who was smiling and bringing his own weapon to bear. With no room to manoeuvre, William knew his time was at an end. He looked down the barrel of his enemy’s pistol and then accepted his fate. Slowly, he closed his eyes and awaited death. He heard the small explosion as the gun fired and then felt the white-hot pain in his thigh. He refused to fall; he would face his death standing, and not kneeling before his enemy.

  “Don’t just stand there, you bloody fool,” a voice sounded that did not belong to Coldridge.

  William gradually opened his eyes. Before him, Faraday stood in the doorway with a billy club in his hand.

  “But…” William was struggling to comprehend what had happened.

  “I know you said we would meet in the courtyard, but I doubted you would be able to best Alpha and Coldridge.” Faraday walked towards William as he spoke. He took the cloth from the table and ripped a strip from it. He hastily tied the cloth around his wounded friend’s thigh. The pain focussed William’s mind on the task at hand.

  “We won’t be alone for long, let’s go,” William said as he tested the wounded thigh by taking a stride.

  The two men stepped over the fallen body of Coldridge and took a flight of stairs that led to the courtyard. When they reached the exterior, Faraday stopped. He bent down and collected a number of bottles with small pieces of cloth in the top. He took out the gift from William and lit each of the cloths. He threw them into the stairwell that they had just travelled. He then slammed the door shut. He then rolled a large barrel in front of the door. It was at this point when William realised that the majority of Hartshill Castle was a mass of flames. He could hear men calling out for rescue and dogs emitting high pitched whining as the flames grew with intensity.

  “You have been busy.”

  “It’s amazing what you can achieve with fuse, black powder and coal oil, but we are not out of the woods yet. The main exit, go!” Faraday ordered.

  William moved as quickly as he could manage. Upon reaching the main gate, Faraday once again collected two bottles, and their protruding cloths, which had clearly been hidden away. Faraday smiled as he threw one bottle against the left side of the gate. He raised the second and motioned that William should go through the gate. William stepped beyond the castle’s boundary and turned towards Faraday, who it seemed to William, was enjoying himself. The smile faltered, and William watched with horror as Faraday grasped at the side of his throat.

  In the distance beyond Faraday’s substantial frame, Coldridge was striding across the courtyard. In his hand a pistol fired for the second time. William felt the bullet pluck at the fabric of his jacket, but it caused no bodily damage.

  “Run you fool,” Faraday croaked. William’s attention was brought back to Faraday as the former police inspector began to close the right side of the gate. “Debt paid, William.” The gate slammed shut, and the familiar sound of a heavy bolt being slid into place. Another bottle smashed and then more flames became visible through the gaps of the gate.

  William had no idea how many of the enemy would evade the flames, but he knew that Coldridge would not be slowed for long. He began to run.

  Chapter 29

  Sir Simeon Harkness was worried. Emily had now been in labour for seventeen hours, and even to his untrained eye, he could tell that she was becoming exhausted. He had also observed the concerned look on Miss Bull’s face. He alternated between nervously pacing the floor of Emily’s room, or mopping her brow.

  “Where is William?” Emily asked feebly.

  “He is on his way,” Simeon replied. He could feel Miss Bull’s stare burning into the back of his neck.

  “He should be here for the birth.”

  “I am sure William is doing all that is possible to be at your side.” He lifted a glass of water to her lips.

  She pushed the glass away and then sat bolt upright.

  “He needs you, Simeon,” Emily announced, her eyes were wide as though staring into the pits of hell.”

  “I’m sorry, Emily. What do you mean?”

  “Go to your son. Bring him home to me.”

  “But…”

  She placed a hand on each side of his face, and pulled him closer.

  “Simeon, he needs you.”

  At that moment, despite there being no rational reason to do so, Simeon believed Emily. He rose from the bed; a sense of foreboding filled his soul. His eyes welled with tears as panic began to overwhelm his thought processes. He stepped away from the bed but was stopped by Miss Bull before he could leave the room.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “To get William. Tomkins has returned from Ashby St Ledgers, use him if you see fit.”

  “You shouldn’t give her false hope. Besides, you have no idea where to look.”

  “Tell me, Miss Bull, what happens to Emily and the child without hope? What are the chances of me holding my grandchild in my arms if there is no hope?”

  Miss Bull’s face flushed crimson.

  “Perhaps, I spoke out of turn.”

  “No, it’s madness,” he whispered. “It makes no sense to walk out into the night in search of my son. But Emily needs hope,” he paused and then added, “and so do I.”

  Ten minutes later, Simeon was stood on the steps of Cloveney Hall. He pulled up the collar of his heavy coat as Tomkins approached carrying his master’s hunting rifle.

  “Let me fetch one of the stable lads, sir.”

  “No, I will go alone.” Simeon turned to look at Tomkins. “Stay close to Emily.”

  “I will,” Tomkins replied as he handed over the impressive weapon.

  Simeon slung the weapon over his shoulder and then patted his inside pocket to ensure that he had remembered to pick up his pistol. Part of him wondered why he was carrying out such a foolish act, but Emily’s face swam into his mind’s eye. He remembered her conviction that he should find William.

  “If I am not back
by the time our friends arrive from London, tell them that I intend to travel toward Hartshill Castle. I will go cross country.”

  ***

  William could still hear the occasional explosion from Hartshill Castle. He assumed that Faraday had used copious amounts of black powder and coal oil. He expected that Faraday was now dead. He doubted that the Inspector could have defeated Coldridge while suffering from such a severe neck wound. William dropped down into a ditch and just for a moment, stopped perfectly still, and listened to the noises of the night. Other than the sounds emanating from the castle, William could not detect the enemy. He pressed on, relying on memory to find his way because the only light available was the moon in the pitch-black sky. He picked his way through the trees, making sure he stayed away from any roads.

  He had been travelling for about thirty minutes before he heard the first sound of dogs. He could tell that he had a substantial lead, but he knew that it would not take long before the animals were snapping at his ankles. He dropped down into a stream. It would slow his progress but would make it hard for the dogs to pick up his scent. The water was ice cold, which helped numb the pain of the wound to William’s thigh. Each step, threatened to send him sprawling, as the stream bed was thick with mud. Nevertheless, he persisted until he was left with no alternative but to leave the stream. He clamoured up a steep bank and caught his breath as he leaned against a thick, trunked oak tree.

  He could hear the dogs in the distance. It seemed that he had for the time being given them the slip. It made sense for William to head toward the nearest village but he had decided to go straight for Cloveney. It was only a few miles further, and he could be certain that he could trust those within his home. A village could be filled with those in the pay of the Ripper. He pressed on, moving within the shadows created by the trees. When open ground could not be avoided, he would wait for a time, watching and listening. Then ignoring the pain, he would burst into a sprint and cover the ground as quickly as his injury permitted.

  He tried to estimate how far he had travelled. However, he knew that thinking clearly when exhaustion and pain wracked your body, was not an easy matter. He tried to push on, but lost his footing, rolled down a slope, and then dropped into a ditch. Twice he tried to rise, but energy had deserted him. The cold mud sucked at his body and for a moment, he allowed it to hold power over him. Closing his eyes, he wondered if the ditch would be his final resting place. He gave a half chuckle; the son of one of the most powerful man in the empire, filthy, alone and dead in a ditch. He opened his eyes and observed a thick branch high above the trench.