Lady Jessica, Monster Hunter - Episode 1: Heart Of The Empire

by Keith Dumble

  'THIS WON'T HURT a bit,' Cottingley lied.

  Jessica chased the pain as it seared through her jaw. Her fingernails dug into the leather arms of the chair as the Professor continued to poke around inside her mouth, using a drill which felt as though it was the same one used to carve out the Grand Subterranean Palace of Windsor.

  Finally, it was over. 'That should do it.' Cottingley peered into her mouth through his electromagnetic spectacles, adjusting one of the lens dials. 'Here, rinse with this, then spit in the basin.'

  The fluid was warm and tasted of gin. Jessica would have bet her father's fortune on it actually being gin. Nevertheless, she did as instructed. She flicked her tongue to where her tooth had been, feeling the cold metal of the implant Cottingley had fixed into the gap.

  'What does it do?' Jessica's words were slurred, her lips feeling twice their normal size.

  'It is most ingenious.' Cottingley rinsed his hands at the laboratory sink. 'I'm quite proud of this one, I have to confess. It is a transmitting device, my dear. It will allow you to hear the words of another fitted with the same contraption, up to a distance of eight hundred yards.'

  'I can see how that would be useful,' said Jessica, the taste of metal and blood in her mouth. 'Shall you be fitting the rest of the crew with one too?'

  'Good heavens, no!' Cottingley's eyebrows shot up, almost disappearing into his tangled shock of white hair. 'It's made using Scientifica, my dear: and I used the last of our supply to make this one.'

  Jessica sighed. She should have gone to the medical officer at Whitehall, like Flint had said.

  'I'm ready, ma'am.' Atsu entered the lab, wearing a slim red silk dress and a black velvet cape fastened with a golden clasp in the shape of a dragon. The cape's hood was raised, obscuring Atsu's hair and most of her face. Only her mouth and chin were visible, the rest of her features lost in shadow.

  'You don't have to come, Atsu, not if you don't want to.'

  'But Sir Humphrey said I would be useful?'

  'He did, yes. And there is no doubt your abilities would be a great assistance to us. But I do not want you to feel you are under orders, Atsu.'

  'It is for the Empire!' The girl lowered her hood. She had piled her hair into a twirling blue spiral, secured by two thin golden rods. Her black eyes glittered as she grinned and made a well-practiced salute, the metal cuff at her wrist sliding up her forearm.

  'Quite charming!' Cottingley was drying his hands on a suspiciously grubby towel. 'You are an exquisite oriental jewel, young lady.'

  Atsu put her hand to her mouth and laughed. 'Thank you, Professor,' she said, curtsying.

  'And she is far too young for the likes of you, Lancelot Cottingley,' said Jessica.

  The Professor looked offended. 'Can a gentleman no longer pay a lady a compliment in this age of so-called equality? A pox on progress if it is so! A pox, I say!'

  Flint walked into the room, fastening the buckle on his holster. 'What was that, Cottingley? You've got the pox? Again?'

  'Mind your manners, you bloody ruffian!'

  Flint grinned, tipping the brim of his hat as Cottingley scowled.

  'Enough.' Jessica reached for her jacket. 'We have a job to do, remember?'

  'Appleton is certain? Vampyres?' Cottingley opened a glass-fronted cabinet and ran his fingers along the rows of bottles and jars inside.

  'As sure as he can be,' said Jessica. 'The marks on the bodies they have found; the sightings of the ones they'd thought were dead and buried. All signs point to there being a nest of the bloodsuckers, right here in London.'

  'Then you'll be needing this.' Cottingley handed Jessica a tube filled with clear liquid, stoppered with a cork.

  'Holy water?'

  'Highly concentrated acetic acid,' said Cottingley, winking at Flint. 'It will burn the devils' skin right off their bones.'

  __________

  'What's the place called again?' Flint was sitting opposite Jessica and Atsu in the horse-drawn carriage. They had all agreed against taking another trip on the train.

  'The Ratcatcher's Trap.'

  'It doesn't sound very nice.' Atsu frowned.

  'It won't be,' said Jessica. 'We'll need to keep our wits about us.'

  'And what are we looking for?' asked Flint.

  'Anything suspicious. Anyone who looks like they might know something, or have something to hide.'

  'In Whitechapel?' Flint stared out at the passing streets. 'Where even the clergymen look guilty?'

  'I will be able to tell.' Atsu crossed her arms, nodding seriously. 'If I get close enough.'

  'With your sight?' said Flint. 'You can see what they're thinking, correct?'

  'Yes, Mr Flint. And hear them too, if it is quiet enough.'

  'I doubt the place will be silent,' said Flint, shaking his head.

  'We can only do our best,' said Jessica. 'The important thing is that we try to blend in. Don't do anything to make them suspicious.'

  'I should keep Mary in her holster then?' Flint winked at them, spinning the chamber of his revolver.

  'Probably for the best, William. Though it may be prudent to keep your weapon handy.'

  'I always do, Jessica.'

  'Look, there is the Tower!' Atsu pointed out the window. The carriage was passing by the ancient walls of the medieval fortification. It sat like a stone beast, guarding the centre of the city from the lawlessness beyond. The rifles of the sentries poked up between the battlements.

  Jessica stared at the floor, biting her lip. Her father would be in there, behind those very walls. Locked away.

  She glanced up to see Flint looking at her, his expression kind. He took a deep breath through his nose, then wafted his hand in front of his face. 'You can always tell when you're in the East End.'

  'It does have its own peculiar charms,' said Jessica, grateful for the change of mood. The carriage shook as its wheels clattered onto the cobbled streets of Whitechapel. 'Not far now.'

  'We must remain silent, yes?' Atsu pulled up her hood, adjusting the clasp at her throat.

  'That's right. William will do the talking. We are to pretend to be his... acquaintances for the evening.'

  Flint grinned. 'My lucky night.'

  Jessica ignored him. 'See if you can get inside their heads whilst he's speaking to them, Atsu. I'll be on the lookout for anything else suspicious.'

  'Like vampyres!' Flint bared his teeth and shaped his fingers into claws. Jessica shook her head whilst Atsu giggled.

  The carriage stopped and the driver thumped on the roof to indicate they'd reached their destination. Jessica had instructed him to take them to a street some distance from the tavern. She doubted many of its patrons were well-to-do enough to arrive by public transport.

  'Mind your shoes.' Flint helped Atsu out of the carriage. 'Looks like they've forgotten to put out the red carpet again.' He offered his arm to Jessica but she refused, stepping down carefully between the piles of dirt on the street. She paid the driver and they walked into the narrow alley which led to the Trap. A train rattled high above them, steam billowing as it sped across the viaduct.

  Jessica fastened her jacket. 'Are you prepared, William?'

  'I've been in a good many places worse than this in my time. Steady wits and ready fists.'

  'And no unnecessary risks,' said Jessica.

  They walked on in silence. The fog had lifted, but the sky was the bruised purple of dusk. Rickety buildings leaned above them on either side, giving the alley a gloomy atmosphere which the few flickering gaslamps did little to brighten.

  The Trap slumped against the brick pillar of the viaduct as if the building itself was drunk. Light flickered from behind ragged black curtains and Jessica could hear shouting and laughter, as well as the tuneless battering of a mistreated piano. She glanced at Atsu and nodded, then followed Flint towards the door.

  There were around twenty people inside, most slouched at two long benches in the middle of the room. A man who looked older than the Empire its
elf sat at the piano, his fingers stumbling over the keys. Scowling women with too much paint on their faces circled the room, some carrying armfuls of bottles and mugs, others prowling between the tables like she-wolves in search of prey.

  A few of the patrons looked up as they entered, but quickly glanced away. Despite the place's reputation, it appeared that nobody was looking for trouble. An overweight bald man with forearms like a pair of hams was slowly making the greasy surface of the bar even dirtier by rubbing it with a filthy rag.

  Flint fished a coin from his pocket and slapped it down on the bar. The man carried on wiping, ignoring him.

  'A stout and a whisky and a jug of eyewater for this pair.' Flint thumbed over his shoulder at Jessica and Atsu. The barman slid the coin into a pocket in the front of his apron and reached down under the counter.

  'Not from round here, are you?'

  'Who is?' Flint downed the whisky as soon as it was placed in front of him. 'Another.'

  The barman shrugged and refilled Flint's glass. He pushed the jug of gin towards Jessica and Atsu without looking at them.

  'You should find yourself a better piano player.' Flint rubbed his stubble, nodding towards the elderly musician in the corner.

  'Old Frank? Deaf as a post.' The barman grinned, his single tooth dangling proud from swollen gums. 'Right enough though, he makes the rest of us wish we were too sometimes.'

  Jessica and Atsu had agreed on a signal: the girl would cough twice if she'd picked up anything which might prove useful. She was silent, her head lowered.

  'How much did this pair of pretties cost you?' The barman leered at Jessica, his face a scarlet web of burst veins.

  'More than you make in a month, friend.' Flint pushed another coin across the bar. 'Here, have a drink yourself.'

  'Don't mind if I do.'

  'There's another in it for you if you could answer me a couple of questions.'

  'What do I look like? A bloody blower?'

  'You look like a sensible man to me.'

  'Then you've obviously had too much of the rotgut, mate. Maybe you should be thinking of joining that there Temperance Society.' The barman's eyes narrowed, almost disappearing into the folds of his doughy face. 'Might keep you out of trouble.'

  Jessica glanced at one of the benches. A man she hadn't noticed earlier was sitting with his back to them. He was dressed in a light grey morning suit and a matching top hat, a silver-tipped cane lying on the bench beside him.

  'Please yourself,' said Flint. 'I'm sure there are others who will be only too glad to relieve me of my money.'

  'In here?' The barman spat onto the floor beside him. 'Nearly everyone you'll meet... and some you'll never even see.'

  'Cutpurses and cutthroats, you mean?'

  'Aye... and worse.'

  Flint took another coin out his pocket and twirled it between his fingers. 'Worse?'

  'Listen mate, you seem alright. I'd take your lady friends and find somewhere else to wet your whistle if I was you.'

  'You don't want our custom?'

  The barman was about to answer when Atsu's coughing disturbed him. Jessica groaned. She had told the girl to be discreet. Instead, Atsu sounded like she was choking to death.

  When Jessica turned round, it looked as if that's exactly what Atsu was doing. Her eyes were bulging beneath the cowl of her hood, both hands clutching at her throat. 'Atsu! Are you alright?' The girl shook her head, her face scarlet.

  'What's up with her?' The barman leaned across the counter, scowling. 'She better not be about to throw up.'

  The man in the grey suit still sat with his back to them. Jessica noticed his hand was clenched around a glass, his knuckles whitened with the pressure. Atsu was now making alarming gurgling noises, her hands frantically flailing at her neck. Slowly, the glass began to crack.

  Jessica snatched the jug of gin from the bar. She pretended to stumble, let out a cry and flung the contents onto the seated man's back. He roared with anger and whirled round, the glass in front of him toppling onto its side. Atsu collapsed, falling into Flint's arms.

  The man's eyes were obscured by spectacles, the lenses completely black. He reached down and picked up his cane, brandishing it in his hand like a sword. 'You stupid bitch,' he said, his voice a hiss of rage.

  Jessica stood her ground. The man snarled, curling back his lips.

  Then, as he rapped the floor with the tip of his cane, the place erupted.

  Flint ducked as a glass soared through the air towards his head. It smashed into the shelves behind him, sending the barman diving for cover as jugs and bottles crashed to the floor.

  Old Frank hammered even more tunelessly at the piano as everyone in the room got to their feet.

  Jessica held a yell from behind her, then started as a wiry man in a filthy brown jacket thumped to the floor beside her.

  She turned to see Flint rubbing his fist and grinning. His eyes widened. 'Behind you!'

  Jessica spun just in time, managing to dodge the punch aimed at her head. She sidestepped and grabbed the woman's arm, twisting it sharply at the elbow. Her attacker screamed in pain and fell to her knees, nursing her broken limb.

  The music continued, the pianist thumping down on the keys as a trio of heavy-set men clambered over the bench towards them.

  'A welcoming committee,' said Flint, cracking his knuckles. 'Really, gentlemen, you shouldn't have.'

  The first man toppled, felled by a sharp kick to the stomach. Flint crouched, readying himself for the other two assailants. 'Get out of here, Jessica.' He beckoned the men forward. 'I'll take care of our friends here.'

  Atsu was leaning on the bar, her hands still at her throat. Jessica caught sight of one of the painted strumpets, rushing up behind Flint with a chair leg brandished above her head.

  'If it's all the same to you,' said Jessica, vaulting the closest bench and kicking the woman in the face with her boot, 'I'll stay around a little longer, William.'

  'Very well.' Flint ducked down quickly, jabbing his fists upwards into the groins of his two opponents. They crumpled to the floor, screaming in pain. 'On reflection, it is probably for the best.'

  The rest of the patrons hung back, wary. One of them picked up a heavy green bottle and smashed it on a table. Another removed a thin blade from inside his jacket. One of the women reached down between her breasts and drew out a snub-nosed revolver.

  'No need for any further trouble now.' Flint drew his own gun, aiming it at the woman. 'If we're quite finished here, ladies and gentlemen, we'll just be on our way.'

  'William, wait!' Jessica had drawn her sword from its concealed sheath in her parasol. As she held it before her, she noticed everyone in the bar was smiling. Even the pianist had ceased playing and was now staring at them with a maniacal grin on his face. She turned, a sinking feeling in her gut.

  The barman had Atsu gripped round the throat with one massive arm, a stained meat cleaver gripped in his hand.

  'Drop your weapons,' he said. Flint and Jessica glanced at each other, then at Atsu's terrified face. Jessica laid her sword on the floor; Flint dropped his revolver beside it. The mob behind them cackled and jeered.

  'All of you.' The barman released Atsu, who ran to Jessica. 'Drop them.' He raised the cleaver above his head. 'This here's a respectable place and we've had enough trouble for one night.'

  'Go boil your balls, Frogg.' The man holding the broken bottle stepped forward. His black greasy hair was plastered across his scalp and a livid red scar next to his mouth made his grin appear unnaturally wide.

  A glint of metal as the cleaver sliced through the air, then a thud as it embedded itself deep into wall inches from the man's head.

  'I won't tell you again.' Frogg now had a rifle in his hands, slowly moving the barrel from one person to the next. 'I've had my fill of this. Get the hell out of my bar and don't come back, the lot of you.'

  With much muttering and cursing, the group began to disperse, picking up hats and coats and tro
oping out of the bar.

  'You'll regret this, Frogg.' A woman, prettier than the others, sneered at the barman, her long black hair shining like silk.

  'Your kind don't scare me.' Frogg pulled the cork from a jug with his teeth and poured the clear contents into a streaked glass. A flicker of fear twisting the woman's features as he thrust the tumbler towards her. 'Care for drink, dearie?'

  'Damn you, Frogg.' She spun on her heel and walked away, her white dress trailing on the floor behind her. She paused, then glared back at him. 'That won't keep us away forever. And forever... that's precisely what we have.' Her companions laughed and followed her out into the night.

  Only a few people were left in the bar. They had scuttled to the back of the room when the fighting had broken out, and now quietly took their places back at the benches.

  'You handled yourselves well,' said Frogg, his face redder than before. 'That lot are nothing but trouble.'

  'We've seen worse, believe me.' Flint leaned against the bar and wiped the sweat from his brow. 'They're not from round here either, are they?'

  Frogg's laugh sounded like a blocked drain. 'That they're not, mate. Bloody sods took this place over about a month ago. At first, I thought their money was as good as anyone's, but they soon started making a nuisance of themselves, and by then it was too late.'

  'What do you mean?' said Flint.

  Frogg peered into the surface of the bar as if it was a window into a bad memory. 'They've got my lass, that's why. Taken her to be part of their bloody troupe.'

  'Troupe? Odd choice of word.'

  'Well, that's what they bloody well are, isn't it?' said Frogg. 'Actors.'

  'Actors?' Flint stared at him in astonishment. 'Not vam...' He paused. 'Actors?'

  'Aye. They took over the Palace theatre. Some carnival show or the like. Very popular, it is, drawing folks from all over the city. Though it's just a front, of course. They get up to all sorts, after the curtain goes down.'

  'The killings, you mean?'

  Frogg glanced at the door. 'There's no proof they're behind them. But I don't believe in no coincidences neither. The murders started not long after they arrived.'

  'You realise there are rumours,' said Jessica, 'that these so-called actors may not be all they claim.'

  'Oh, I know all about the rumours, lass. Especially after seeing one of them change with my own eyes.'

  'Change? What do you mean?'

  'Into their true form, of course. They're bloody vampyres, aren't they?'

  'You believe in vampyres?' Jessica chose her words carefully. Her orders were strict: no revealing the true nature of things to normal citizens unless absolutely necessary. 'In this day and age? In London?'

  'London's a damn sight stranger than you might think, lass. And yes, I believe in vampyres...'

  'Your daughter? Is she...'

  'No, thank heaven. She's just one of their damn hangers-on. Seduced by them, so she is.'

  'Have you tried to get her back? Talk to her?'

  'Once.' Frogg frowned, spreading his fingers across the bar. 'I went to the theatre, one afternoon. Found her mopping the stage. It was like she was in a trance; didn't even know who I was. I couldn't get an ounce of sense out of her at all. And then he showed up.'

  'Who?'

  'That gent in the grey suit you gave a nice gin bath to.' Frogg grinned. 'Hoity-toity bastard and no mistake. And it was him that whispered his lies into my Cathy's ear.'

  Jessica realised she hadn't noticed him during the fight; as if he had vanished into thin air. 'He's their leader?'

  'Aye. The rest of them jump when he tells them to. Follow him round like bloody lapdogs.'

  'Where is this theatre, exactly? The Palace, you said it was called?'

  'That's right, lass. Just round the corner from here, on Whitechapel Road itself. Grand old place, looks like one of them old Egyptian temples. You can't miss it.'

  'Well, I think we should pay a little visit to the Palace, don't you William?'

  Flint grinned, straightening his hat. 'Thought you'd never ask, Jessica.'

  'And we'll see if we can find your daughter, Frogg.'

  'If you could get her back from those bloody savages, I'd be forever in your debt, lass. You'll know her by her hair if you see her. Fiery red it is.' He rubbed his bald head. 'Just like mine used to be.'

  'I can make no promises. But we shall try.'

  'Thank you.' Frogg picked up the glass he'd offered to the woman earlier. 'Care for a drink now?'

  Jessica took the glass and sniffed the contents. The liquid inside was clear and odourless. 'What's this?' she said, recalling the fear on the black-haired woman's face. 'Holy water?'

  'No, lass, just normal stuff from the tap.' Frogg grinned, showing his single tooth. 'But those bastards don't need to know that now, do they?'

  CHAPTER SIX

  Theatre of the Damned