but it remained dark and
quiet. It being Saturday night, I expected more folks out on the
street but the area was desolate, deserted. There weren’t even any
cats or dogs prowling about. Maybe the ward was working on a
subconscious level to keep the locals away. I was pretty
knowledgeable in sigils, having had them drilled into my head by
Baalth and my uncle, but each instance was influenced by the will
of the caster. There was no telling what twists he’d imbedded when
he slapped it on the wall.
No one around to see us, it was time
to stop skulking and do what I do best: make noise and break
things.
A swift kick to the door split the
wood at the handle and knocked it loose from the frame. The sigil
flickered, burning a reddish-orange before fading to a charcoal
gray. The door swung open with a creak. The tangy scent of charred
metal quickly gave way to something else…something
horrible.
No longer contained by the ward, the
smell of rusty copper and rotting meat spilled from the room in
putrid waves. Scarlett and I covered our noses with our hands and
glanced inside. There on a small cot in the corner of the room was
a bundle of shredded cloth bathed in red. I inched forward only to
realize the bundle was actually a body. My stomach lurched.
Scarlett gagged at the doorway and stumbled off as I just stood
there, frozen in place, staring at the ruin in the bed. There was
no mistaking what I was looking at.
The Ripper had struck
again.
Eight
Up to that point, I’d only seen
photographs of the carnage the Ripper had left behind, the horror
suffused by distance and the grainy nature of the photos. Here,
standing at the foot of the bed just feet from where his latest
victim lie hacked up as if by a deranged butcher, there was no way
to escape the brutality of the act.
Able to tell the body was that of a
woman—due only to the killer’s history and the vaguely recognizable
dress stuck moistly to the legs—I could feel my mother’s disgust
welling up inside me. The woman’s face had been sliced at random
angles, a sharp blade having cut the flesh down to the bone, the
cartilage of her nose hacked away and hanging in shreds. There was
nothing left of her to identify, the damage too extensive. Her
dress had been torn away, her breasts, stomach, and groin cut
apart, bits and pieces scattered wetly about the bed and nearby
floor. A partial set of red boot prints stood out against the
darker shadows of the floor, the toes coming to a bit of a point.
Jack had stood right over the woman as she died.
There was so much blood I could taste
it, so I turned away. As much as it sickened me, there was nothing
I could do for her. She was beyond help. All that was left was
revenge.
Resisting the urge to draw a breath, I
glanced about the room and realized the sigil outside hadn’t been
the only one at work. A number of them had been drafted upon the
walls, but none with the hasty hand of the one outside. The killer
had taken his time inside. Unable to tell what had been done, I
stepped closer to the first and noticed the absolute silence that
enveloped me.
I glanced at the door to see Scarlett
just outside. She held her hand over her mouth, coughing into it,
yet I couldn’t hear a sound. I called out to her, but she didn’t
respond. My pulse thrumming in my veins, I ran over to her. The
moment I cleared the doorframe, her hacking cough slammed against
my ears. She started and spun to glare at me, one of her swords
coming up.
I raised my hands to ward her off.
“Easy, Scarlett.” A glance back into the apartment set a bitter
sickness bubbling up in my guts. “I know how he’s getting away with
it.”
She wiped her mouth with the back of
her hand and hitched her chin at me.
“ He has silencing wards
inside.”
Scarlett’s shoulders slumped, her gaze
rising to the sky. There was no doubt she was thinking exactly what
I was, but I doubted God was on the same page. Turn the other
cheek, and all that.
Able to cut off
quiet. It being Saturday night, I expected more folks out on the
street but the area was desolate, deserted. There weren’t even any
cats or dogs prowling about. Maybe the ward was working on a
subconscious level to keep the locals away. I was pretty
knowledgeable in sigils, having had them drilled into my head by
Baalth and my uncle, but each instance was influenced by the will
of the caster. There was no telling what twists he’d imbedded when
he slapped it on the wall.
No one around to see us, it was time
to stop skulking and do what I do best: make noise and break
things.
A swift kick to the door split the
wood at the handle and knocked it loose from the frame. The sigil
flickered, burning a reddish-orange before fading to a charcoal
gray. The door swung open with a creak. The tangy scent of charred
metal quickly gave way to something else…something
horrible.
No longer contained by the ward, the
smell of rusty copper and rotting meat spilled from the room in
putrid waves. Scarlett and I covered our noses with our hands and
glanced inside. There on a small cot in the corner of the room was
a bundle of shredded cloth bathed in red. I inched forward only to
realize the bundle was actually a body. My stomach lurched.
Scarlett gagged at the doorway and stumbled off as I just stood
there, frozen in place, staring at the ruin in the bed. There was
no mistaking what I was looking at.
The Ripper had struck
again.
Eight
Up to that point, I’d only seen
photographs of the carnage the Ripper had left behind, the horror
suffused by distance and the grainy nature of the photos. Here,
standing at the foot of the bed just feet from where his latest
victim lie hacked up as if by a deranged butcher, there was no way
to escape the brutality of the act.
Able to tell the body was that of a
woman—due only to the killer’s history and the vaguely recognizable
dress stuck moistly to the legs—I could feel my mother’s disgust
welling up inside me. The woman’s face had been sliced at random
angles, a sharp blade having cut the flesh down to the bone, the
cartilage of her nose hacked away and hanging in shreds. There was
nothing left of her to identify, the damage too extensive. Her
dress had been torn away, her breasts, stomach, and groin cut
apart, bits and pieces scattered wetly about the bed and nearby
floor. A partial set of red boot prints stood out against the
darker shadows of the floor, the toes coming to a bit of a point.
Jack had stood right over the woman as she died.
There was so much blood I could taste
it, so I turned away. As much as it sickened me, there was nothing
I could do for her. She was beyond help. All that was left was
revenge.
Resisting the urge to draw a breath, I
glanced about the room and realized the sigil outside hadn’t been
the only one at work. A number of them had been drafted upon the
walls, but none with the hasty hand of the one outside. The killer
had taken his time inside. Unable to tell what had been done, I
stepped closer to the first and noticed the absolute silence that
enveloped me.
I glanced at the door to see Scarlett
just outside. She held her hand over her mouth, coughing into it,
yet I couldn’t hear a sound. I called out to her, but she didn’t
respond. My pulse thrumming in my veins, I ran over to her. The
moment I cleared the doorframe, her hacking cough slammed against
my ears. She started and spun to glare at me, one of her swords
coming up.
I raised my hands to ward her off.
“Easy, Scarlett.” A glance back into the apartment set a bitter
sickness bubbling up in my guts. “I know how he’s getting away with
it.”
She wiped her mouth with the back of
her hand and hitched her chin at me.
“ He has silencing wards
inside.”
Scarlett’s shoulders slumped, her gaze
rising to the sky. There was no doubt she was thinking exactly what
I was, but I doubted God was on the same page. Turn the other
cheek, and all that.
Able to cut off
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