by R. L. Weeks
He has dehumanized his victims, hating them for their gender. He thinks women vermin of the world although they bring new life and gentleness into the cruel world.
I heard a woman, when the Ripper stories started to circulate, saying that she found it sexy. They have glamorized him. Do they not realize how they would feel if it were their daughters or mothers choked to death for no other reason than they were born a woman with blonde hair? He rips souls from this world. These women had lives. They had futures they were excited about, things they wanted to do, people they loved, a life they wanted to live. How dare someone take it upon themselves to play God?
It is not sexy. It is disgusting. Enough to leave bad taste in my mouth for the rest of my life.
I see the glee in his eyes as the woman he has tricked into believing he was romancing her panics as she realises the truth — that he is about to murder her.
Her big eyes widen more as she begs for her life. Seeing her begging a snake like my uncle forces me into action.
I step out into the light of the gaslit lamps. “Uncle Jack!”
My voice sends shockwaves through him. As his jaw drops, his hands loosen around her neck and he turns his head to look at me.
My heart flutters quicker than the flickering of the lamp next to me.
“It can’t be,” he says. It’s the first time I’ve seen him hesitate in all the time I have been stalking him.
The woman looks at me with big blue eyes. Her lips are trembling, and snot is running from her red nose. Her eyes are watery, and her hands are shaking.
“Let her go!” I shout. “It’s me you want, not some copy.” I hope it’s enough to provoke him. Thankfully my prayers are met. He lets her go. She drops to her knees, too scared to move.
“Run!” I shout to her.
“If you run,” he says, looking down, “I will chase you down and kill you.”
She sobs hysterically, dropping her face into her palms.
He tilts his head and looks at me. “Well, well. Look who’s back from the dead.”
“You knew?”
“Yessss,” he hisses. “I have been waiting for this moment. I have been waiting until I can take you as mine.”
My heart hammers. “Stop this, Uncle.”
He spits on the ground. “I am not your uncle. I was adopted.”
I already know this, but it shocks me that he’s trying to put distance between our relation. That’s when I realise the cold truth. He doesn’t want me dead. He fell in love with me when that other thing took over my body.
“I won’t be yours!” I scream. “It was the thing living inside of me! You knew this.”
His gaze turns colder. “It was still you a little. You knew what you were doing to me. You stamped on my heart.”
How can I reason with a monster?
“The police know I’m here,” I lie. On saying it, I wonder why I didn’t think to tell the police?
“Lies,” he says, and his lips stretch into the most sinister smile I have ever seen on a man. “You’re alone, unarmed,” he says on looking at my hands. Great. “Come with me and I won’t kill the girl.”
Oh Lord, what have I done?
“I have people that will come looking for me.”
“Let them look,” he says without care. “They won’t find us.” He looks at me with the same expression most women reserve for chocolate. “Come with me.”
The woman looks at me with pleading eyes. Her forehead is drenched with sweat.
“Fine, I will go with you.”
He walks over to me, runs his hands up into my blonde waves, and tugs my head back.
“Ouch!” I scream.
“Let me look at you.” He looks at my face, my chest, and my dress. “I have had time to think, Raven, and I realise now that it’s not your death that I wished. It was your love, and you will give it to me whether you want to or not.”
“All those women,” I cry. “You killed them.”
“Socialites with only one goal — money. They deserved what they got. Plus, I had to let my anger out for what you did to me.”
I whimper as he tugs my hair harder. “Now we can be together for an eternity.”
I hear the woman start to run past us. He lets go of my hair, grabs her arm, and pulls her into him.
I start to shout at him to stop, but it’s too late.
“I would have never let you go.” He looks into her eyes, pushes her to her knees, and twists her head until her neck snaps.
“No!” I scream out. She drops onto the ground, limp. Her skull crunches against the concrete, and blood spills over the pavement.
He turns back to me, his eyes greedy. “You’re still coming with me.”
I reach into my pocket and pull out the bottle of venom. I struggle to get the stopper out and drop the bottle.
Suddenly a man drops down from a rooftop. In a blur, my uncle is lifted against the wall and his eyes are gauged out, then the man sinks his teeth into his neck. Blood gushes down his suit until his screams are no more.
“Tom!” I shout. It must be him.
I can’t stop shaking as the man steps out of the shadows and into the light.
Eighteen
“Emmett.” I breathe slowly as I take him in.
His features are perfectly symmetrical, his nose the perfect size for his oval face, and his chiselled jawline is more prominent. His eyes are now darker, almost matte in appearance, filled with intensity and mystery. His slim body is more muscular now, and his lips are pale and thin. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, which is unusual, and his smile is almost carefree. That smile makes me weak at the knees. His hair is not slicked back as I had become accustomed to. It is now tousled, a little wild, and it suits him perfectly.
My heart skips a beat when his gaze meets mine. I can’t find the words to say. I know he’s a vampire now. He doesn’t need to tell me — his appearance and stance say it all.
“Would you like more time to stare?” he asks. His tone is cheekier than before. I know he’s just playing, but I can’t help but flush red.
“Sorry. I…” What can I even say? ‘I’ve been looking for you, hoping you haven’t fallen pray to Amelia’s charms while trying to fend off Tom’s advances’?
“I’ve missed you,” I say, sounding braver than I feel.
His gaze narrows. “Where is Tom?”
I gulp. “Why?”
He looks down at me. “I know you’re back with him.”
“I, uh, w-well.”
He holds a hand up. “It’s fine.”
“Emmett, you’re a vampire.” I could cry. “Why? Why let them turn you into one of them?”
“I had no choice.” The seriousness returns to his face. “I came to say goodbye.”
Bam. That hurt. “Why? Are you with her?”
“It’s not like that.” He pauses. “What’s wrong with your hand?”
I shove it in my pocket. “It’s nothing.” His eyes scan the ground and land on the bottle. “Venom.”
“How’d you know?”
“Vera.”
I swallow hard. “She told you?”
“Yes. That’s why I came back.”
“How did you get her to tell you?”
He scoffs. “Is that really important right now? Or would you like the cure?”
“There is no cure.”
He walks up to me, and my heart pounds so hard that I’m surprised it doesn’t jump out of my chest. He grins. “It’s nice to know the effect I have on you.” He looks down at me and tilts my chin up with his thumb. “What trouble you’ve been getting yourself into.”
“Please.” Feeling him near me makes my body react in ways I’ve never imagined. Everything in me wants to jump on him and kiss him, but his gaze wards me off. “I’m sure they didn’t tell you everything. I had no choice but to go with Tom,” I say simply. “Amelia made it part of her deal — if not, I’d be dead, Emmett — but it looks like none of that mattered. She tried to kill me any
way.”
I see something in his eyes, something I have never seen — fear. “I want you, Emmett.” The words leave my lips before I can swallow them.
Emmett closes his eyes. Do I sense regret?
“I’m leaving still.”
Tears prick at my eyes. No, he will not see me cry! “Please don’t go.”
“I am with Amelia.”
I’m confused. A crease forms on my forehead. “No, she’s not good enough for you, Emmett.”
I reach up and hold onto his arms. I must look desperate right now. “Don’t go.”
His eyes water. I’ve never really seen Emmett show much emotion before. “I know you care for me, Emmett. You told me, remember?” I tiptoe up to him and run my hand down his cheek, stopping by his lips. I look at him wide-eyed. “I’m in lo—”
He looks away. “Please don’t.”
He may as well have ripped out my heart. “So you love Amelia?” I ask through tears. “The bloodsucking whore.”
“Don’t!” he shouts. A tear has made its way down his cheek. “Stop it.”
I must sound jealous, but I don’t care. “She will never love you like I do.”
“I just came back to save you. That’s all.” He pauses. “Tom is a good man. Go with him. He will look after you. He will love you.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
“Fine.” I turn away. “But don’t expect me to ever come looking for you again.”
He places the cure to the venom in my hand, and before I can say anything else, he’s gone.
Nineteen
I sit with my back against a headstone in Highgate Cemetery and uncork the bottle Emmett gave me. I down the blue liquid and cough as it hits the back of my throat. I hiss as the spreading black on my hand retreats like magic and finally disappears. I raise an eyebrow. Well, that was quick.
Ivy creeps over the uneven ground, climbing up the cracked headstones. I sit under a clear black sky and gaze at the twinkling stars. They bring me comfort. I wonder how many people before me, throughout history, have looked up at the same stars, the same moon, and dreamed.
It makes me realise that we are all pretty small in the grand picture, but each thing we do, whether it is dying for a cause, making a mistake for others to learn from, or bringing a child into the world, it all matters. I have to believe there is a reason for it all, one we can’t see and shouldn’t because we couldn’t function as a part of it if we knew the true reason.
I place the empty bottle in my pocket and clench my hand into a fist a few times. It feels much better.
The cemetery whispers under the sullen moon. Leaves dance in the wind, and animals scurry among the branches. The iron gates clunk together as the wind threatens to force them open.
I am alone here, for which I am glad. It’s not that I hate people. I don’t wish for small talk. I hate it. I prefer to be with nature, or with a select few that actually interest me.
A raven swoops down from the branches above and lands on a headstone in front of me. I hear I hear its squawk over the wind. It looks at me, tilting its head. “Hey there, birdie.” I say.
It tilts its head to the other side. “Are you hungry? I haven’t any food. Sorry.”
It jumps off the headstone and makes its way over to me, stopping by my feet. I look down at its ruffled feathers. “Are you hurt?” I say as I spot a wound on its wing. “Poor thing. It must hurt to fly.”
It ruffles its feathers again. I slowly hover my hand over the bird and softly touch its wing. “Poor thing. I wish I could heal you. Perhaps you can come back with me to the house?”
I feel the feathers under my fingertips and take in a deep breath. I can feel the grass under my other hand. It’s almost as if they share a heartbeat.
I remove my hand from the raven and shake my head. The wound is gone. The bird ruffles its feather and flies away.
I look down at my hand, wide-eyed. Did I just heal it?
I laugh. No, that’s impossible. I haven’t had much sleep, and my eyes are playing tricks on me.
I grab the headstone behind me and use it to pull myself up. I wipe the dirt off the back of my skirt and brush my hair behind my shoulders.
I’m walking over to the well-trodden path between the headstones when I hear a crack behind me.
Fire rushes through my blood. I extend my fingers and feel a warmth travel up my arms all the way down to my toes.
I peer into the shadows and see two big, red eyes peering at me through the branches. I jolt back, lean on a headstone, and that’s when it happens.
Just like before.
A memory beckons me into it, of two women screaming as their children are ripped from their arms. The women are covered in lumps. Their lips are dark, their eyes sullen.
“It’s the black death,” someone screams out as I pull myself out of the memory. I open my eyes, look around the seemingly empty cemetery, and pull my hand off the headstone.
Perhaps being here and close to much death has reawakened something in me?
I look around desperately but see no ghosts. I guess it’s not back full-time. I mean, where better to see ghosts than a cemetery?
***
When I finally get back to the house, I throw down my coat and nestle in front of the dying fire. I prod the logs a few times with the poker before I wrap my arms around my legs.
Emmett being so close yet so, so far away sends a fire through my body.
I haven’t allowed myself to think about him too much. Every time he crosses my mind, I do my best to think of something else, anything else. I need a distraction, because the hollow truth that he doesn’t want me hurts my heart too much.
The sun is already coming up. The rays fall into the room, illuminating the dust around me. I hear the front door open and scrape against the post that we have let pile up. “Raven, are you awake?”
“Yes,” I call out. “I’m in the living room.”
He rushes in with Jane in tow. “She agreed to help you.”
I throw my hand up. “No need,” I say, showing off the clear skin. “I got a cure.”
Jane hisses. “I thought you said she was dying!”
I stand up and place a hand on my hip. “Like you’d care. You attacked me last time!”
She laughs manically. “Attacked you how? I tell ya, she’s delusional.”
Tom waves his hands down between us. “Everyone, calm down.” His gaze focuses on me. “What do you mean she attacked you, and where did you find a cure?”
“Emmett,” I say bluntly. “But don’t worry, he’s gone.” I shuffle my feet.
Tom’s eyes slowly turn from green to red. “Why did he return?”
I swallow hard. “To say goodbye.”
Silence hangs between us all until Jane speaks. “I did not attack you.”
I take a step forward, but Tom jumps in front of me. “Don’t get angry.”
“She attacked me with her magic or something. I couldn’t breathe, and she was staring right at me when I looked over at the carriage. When she looked away” — I throw my arms open to elaborate — “poof. It stopped.”
Tom looks back at Jane. “Is this true? I know you have those powers,” he says before she goes on her defence. He gives her a ‘don’t lie to me’ look.
She throws her hands up. “So what? She was never in any real danger.”
“See!” I shout. “Well, it turns out that my sight is coming back.” I look around Tom. “So you’d better watch it.”
She scoffs. “Oh no, I don’t want to be attacked by ghosts I can’t see.” She rolls her eyes. “Get some real powers before you go around threatening people, you stupid girl! I don’t know what he sees in you.”
Tom turns to face her. “Hey, I know you’re upset, but I told you how I felt about her. I’m sorry it hurts you, but I can’t change how I feel.”
Each word is like a dagger in my chest. He really does love me. I look down at my feet. “Enough,” I whisper. “Tom, I need to talk to you.
” I look at Jane pointedly. “Alone.”
Her mouth twists in disgust, but after a nod from Tom, she leaves the room. Once I hear the door to the kitchen click shut, I look up at Tom.
“We need to talk.”
He shakes his head. “Yes, we do.”
Twenty
Tom dishevels his slicked-back hair, which honestly doesn’t suit him. Tom has always been a little rough around the edges. It’s a part of his charm. “Would you like me to give you a minute?” he asks, a smirk lingering on his lips.
I roll my eyes. “I’m just not used to seeing you so sharply dressed.” I look over at the door. “I’m guessing Jane has something to do with that.”
He looks at me, tight-lipped. “I care for Jane. I do.” He pauses and rubs his eyes. “Look, it is nothing to how I feel for you. You know this.” He takes my hands in his and looks down, deep into my eyes. “Tell me you feel the same for me.”
I see the desperation etched on his face. My heart beats steadily. “I don’t know how I feel anymore.” Emmett crosses my mind, but I force him out. “My uncle is dead,” I say quickly. “Emmett killed him. He gave me the cure and left. He found out what Miss Kaye and Amelia’s plans were. That’s when he came to me.” I blink back tears. “He came to say goodbye.” I clear my throat. “So it’s over and done with. He wants to be with her, and I—”
Tom’s eyebrows knit together. “I won’t be a last resort for you.”
I squeeze his hands. “It’s not like that. How I felt for Emmett, it was something strong. I won’t lie to you.”
“I know,” he says. “You won’t lie to me, I mean. Look, perhaps we take things slow. Give each other some time.”
“I think I need to just be friends right now.”
I watch the pain wash over his expression before he regains his composure. “I understand.”
He places his hat down on the table and leaves the room. I know better than to follow him.
***
It doesn’t even feel like I’m asleep, yet I am dreaming. I am looking down on a white beach scattered with pebbles. Waves crash against the rocks below. I am on a cliffside. On it there is a small house. I can’t see any other building for miles around. “We need to kill her,” Amelia says to her mother.
