Page 32 of Taken By the Ripper
“Jack,” she whispered, afraid to disturb the stillness of the moment as her hand came to rest on the sturdy muscles of his chest. But as she lifted her head to meet his eye, she found him staring intensely at the wall instead. “I need to tell you—”
“Hush.” He placed a finger to her lips, and that’s when she made out the sound of quiet footsteps.
Mazie turned the corner, dressed in day clothes despite the late hour with a shawl and bonnet to match. She held her boots in her hands, walking the estate with only stockinged feet as if not wanting to get caught.
Although she was coming rather than going, she was still returning home two hours past dark. And the night was dangerous.
Clara attempted to push away from Jack to confront Mazie, but he shook his head and held her still as her sister slipped past and tiptoed down the hallway. After a few moments, the door to Mazie’s bedroom clicked shut. She hadn’t even seen them. But then again, it was difficult to see Jack in the darkness.
“She’s been going out on her own!” Clara hissed, gesturing down the hallway. “At night. What if…what if…” A shuddering breath escaped her as she envisioned what could happen. Would Jack have todealwith her, too, should the vampires infect her?
Frantically turning her attention back to him, she said, “You can’t hurt her. If she gets infected, you can’t kill her. Promise me. Promise me!”
“Nothing will happen,” he murmured, shifting a strand of hair out of her face with his claw. “I will deal with these vampires, and the streets will be a little bit safer.”
The reminder of the vampires brought her attention back to his wound. Not wanting him to suffer and bleed out any longer, she grabbed his hand, led him down the opposite end of the hallway, and ushered him through her bedroom door.
She struck a tinderbox and lit a lantern, illuminating the room enough to view his wound. It was deep. But perhaps not so deep that he would suffer from internal damage.
Immediately, she got to work as she snatched the chair in front of her vanity and ushered him to sit. His vast size in her little chair amused her, especially when he looked entirely out of place.
Next, she set out clean cloths, a sterilized needle, catgut thread, and carbolic acid as a disinfectant. She threw on an apron and hastily tied it at the back before slipping on rubber gloves. Growing up, her father had never used gloves, as it had not become a practice for physicians until later. But if she could keep her hands clean and her patients safe, she would take whatever precautions necessary.
Besides, if Jack’s blood was capable of infecting women through consumption, she couldn’t dare risk even the slightest bit touching her lips or even the smallest open wound.
“You certainly know what you’re doing.” Jack grunted, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he winced.
“I may have done this once or twice,” she jested as she sat in front of him and began cleaning the wound with water and a cloth. The water was cold, straight from her basin. But she couldn’t risk boiling a pot downstairs lest Norma catch her in the act. It was better to avoid questions altogether.
But as she cleaned the blood away, she frowned at what she found. The wound was straight enough to suggest it had happened from some sort of blade, but slightly jagged to indicate it may not have been a clean, sharp, and well-kept weapon.
“You need to stay.” After checking to make sure the skin was the only thing damaged, she began the first suture. His only indication of pain was a slight wince. “At least until you recover. I can help you here.”
He shook his head. “I can’t stay.”
“Of course.” She sighed and shook her head. “Demons to fight and vampires to slay. Am I wrong?” And then she nodded toward his wound. “Is that how you got this?”
She glanced up briefly to find him pressing his lips together in admittance. One of his sharp canines peeked through those lips. “I was ambushed. Perhaps I was not careful enough because they knew I was coming.”
“This is a knife wound, Jack.”
“And now they have more of my blood.” His shoulders slumped with defeat. “There will be more victims. I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop Whitechapel from being overrun with ghouls after all.”
Silence fell between them as she performed her duties as a physician. Prick, tug. Prick, tug. Until slowly, the wound cametogether nicely, and the bleeding stopped. She finished tying off the last stitch and cut the catgut with scissors before applying the antiseptic paste, layering it on thick. He needed it after what he’d gone through.
After concluding her medical administration, she pinched his burly arm hard enough for him to gasp.
“Clara! Why did you—”
“I can’t tell if you’re brave or an idiot! They got more of your blood because you’re still here. If you left the city, this wouldn’t be an issue.”
“Left this city?” he scoffed. He pushed himself to his feet and began pacing back and forth across the room while she packed her supplies away. “I can’t leave. You don’t understand.”
“Why is the concept so difficult? Why, Jack?”
“Because!” He threw his hands up in the air and spun to face her. “Because you’re here. And I refuse to leave you.”
He moved so suddenly that she could hardly follow his movements with her eyes. One moment, he was across the room. And the next, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pinned her against the wall…
