Page 18 of Taken By the Ripper
When her own self-doubt clung to her clothing like a medicine stain, she wearily climbed the stairs to the upper floor late at night while her patients slept soundly downstairs. For now. More often than not, someone woke in the dreary hours of night screaming for some reason or another. It was so common an occurrence in this household that Mazie and Norma slept right through it. But Clara? No, she could never sleep through it.
One by one, she pulled the pins out of her hair and placed them inside her apron pocket. For once, her hair wasn’t a kinky mass of a mess, rather curling nicely over her shoulders and down her back. If only she got to enjoy them for longer than just a few minutes before she slept on it and made it look like a rat’s nest by morning.
She opened her mouth in a large yawn as she entered her room and set her lantern down on the table beside her bed.
But then she felt the cold, chilling presence of someone else in the room moments before a draft from the open windowcaressed her skin. It was the way gooseflesh crawled across her arms. The way the back of her neck prickled with discomfort. The way every part of her body became alert.
She spun around and pulled out a scalpel from her pocket, holding it in both hands to protect herself from the threat. The knife may be small, but it was better than nothing.
“Who’s there?” she cried, forcing herself to be brave rather than give into the wallowing fear trying to consume her whole.
Her gaze darted along the shadows flickering across the wall with each twirl and bend of the lantern flame. And then she saw him.
T
he creature from the night of the vampire attack stood near the wall, easy to miss when he blended in with the shadows. The spikes on his back appeared more pointed and formidable than ever, and his claws almost seemed to grow longer with the flex of his fingers. The same ripped and broken rags for clothing covered his body, revealing the chiseled muscles blatantly showing beneath.
Black strands of hair fell over his face, but instead of pushing them away from his eyes, he continued to stare back at her with his yellow gaze. Almost as if wary of her. Cautious.
If he wanted to kill her, he most certainly could. After witnessing his lethal speed and prowess against the vampires, she knew one wrong move might be her last.
Despite her quavering voice, she jested, “There is a front door for a reason. It’s rude to enter through a lady’s window.” And to make sure she knew he’d been there before, she added, “Again.”
A deep, gravelly voice spoke back, “I wanted to see if you were well.”
“No fang marks in my neck.” She swallowed as her body chilled with fear when she glanced at the sharp, pointed claws protruding from each finger. “No claws in my chest.”
“I won’t hurt you.”
“Then why are you here?” A part of her thought she might have been hallucinating.
At least until the monster took a step closer into the light, which further illuminated the gray of his skin, the yellow of his eyes, the sharp spines on his back and elbows.
He spoke again, his voice like the deep rumble of a large cart passing outside the window on the street. “A single drop of that blood on your lips could have infected you. I came to make sure that was not the case.”
Nothing made sense anymore. Vampires? Terrifying creatures? Infectious blood? At this point, she might as well check herself into the asylum.
The…thing…took another step closer, further illuminating his body in the lantern light. That’s when she noticed the sharp fingernail-like claws extending from each finger. Except…
Two were missing, each chipped to the nub.
And then she made the connection.
The claw lodged into her door frame. The claw buried in Elizabeth Stride’s abdomen. They were the same. And unless there were multiple of him skulking about the streets…
“You are Jack the Ripper,” she said breathlessly, unsure whether fascination or terror was going to cause her to faint. Because suddenly, she felt extremely light-headed. The Ripper was in her room. He had been there more than once. Perhaps he had come to finish the job from the alleyway.
Despite her frozen limbs, she managed to lean backward enough for her shoulders to brush against the farthest wall of the room. She was trapped. The Ripper had her cornered.
His tail swished back and forth with agitation, though he didn’t advance. “You don’t understand. No one understands. I’m not a murderer.”
“Yet, it wasyourclaw found in one of the victims…wasn’t it?” Her hands shook some more. “Did you mean to kill her?”
This time, his tail fell limp behind him, and his shoulders slumped. “I had no choice. She was infected.”
“With some sort of blood.”
He ducked his head and nodded. “My blood. Those vampires? They kept me captive. Took a lot of my blood. Planned to use it to infect the people of Whitechapel.”
