“Quite,” I said.
“You don’t think … I mean, do you think he wasn’t Jack the Ripper?”
“No, I’m sure he was. I smelled her blood—Mary Jane Kelly’s—on his hands. But that’s what a trial is for, so that all the evidence can be laid out and everyone can see that it’s true. This way, it’s just going to be down to what people believe.”
“And the Star yelling conspiracy,” Crow said gloomily.
“Yes, exactly.”
Sir Edwin was delighted to be introduced to Crow, and he achieved what I had never managed, to get Crow to talk about one of his old cases. Crow would talk endlessly about the history of crime in London, but was reticent to the point of muteness about his own part in the solutions side of it. Sir Edwin—or possibly Sir Edwin’s mustache—induced him to tell us about his tangle with the League of Red-Headed Men and the talented and unscrupulous John Clay. I might have considered the escapades in the bank vault implausible, except that I knew—of course—that Crow did not lie.
We were just finishing the fish when someone started pounding on the door.
“Oh, not again,” said Crow. “It’s Gregson.”
“Perhaps my memorandum did not reach him?” said Sir Edwin. “I assure you, I sent it to Scotland Yard yesterday.”
“I believe you,” I said, and Gregson flung our door open with a bang.
“You’re paying for the plasterwork, Inspector,” Crow said, but Gregson didn’t even hear him.
“Aha!” he cried. “You see, Dr. Doyle, you are not sharp enough to fool old Gregson after all!” His enmity against me was shining in his eyes.
I took a sip of wine and said nothing.
“Good gracious,” said Sir Edwin.
Crow said, “Gregson, you’re about to make a fool of yourself.”
“You can’t evade arrest forever, Doctor,” said Gregson.
“Inspector—” I tried.
“You may have pulled the wool over Lestrade’s eyes, but you don’t fool me! I knew there was something queer about you from the start. Dr. J. H. Doyle, you are under arrest for fraudulently posing as—”
“Inspector!” shouted Sir Edwin, and Gregson jerked to a halt halfway across the sitting room.
“Who are you, sir?” Gregson demanded. “Another of Dr. Doyle’s pawns?”
“I am the very Napoleon of crime,” I said sotto voce to Crow.
“My name,” Sir Edwin said dryly, “is Edwin Ottershaw, and I am no one’s pawn.”
“Indeed,” said Gregson, and much as I disliked him, I wished I could advise him not to sneer at Sir Edwin. “But you can have no idea—”
“On the contrary, I have a very good idea,” said Sir Edwin. “I suppose I shall have to show you my credentials in the matter.” He produced from the inner pocket of his coat the copy of the memorandum regarding my status that he had brought to show me.
Gregson took it suspiciously and scanned it with a deepening frown. “Is this some sort of joke?”
“Oh, Gregson,” Crow lamented. “Always so predictable.”
“No,” said Sir Edwin. “It is neither a joke nor a ruse. Dr. Doyle has done significant and meritorious work in the service of Her Majesty, and does not deserve to be persecuted by the police.”
Gregson looked like a man who had stepped on solid floor only to fall through into a pantomime. Or a man whose speeding locomotive had just encountered a solid wall.
He opened and closed his mouth several times without producing any words, until Crow took pity on him and said, “Come ’round the next time you have something interesting, Inspector. Dr. Doyle and I will be glad to see you.”
Gregson at least had the wit to recognize a lifeline when he was thrown one. “Indeed,” he said. “Good afternoon to you gentlemen then.” He tipped his hat, mostly to Sir Edwin, and retreated heavily down the stairs.
“I’m quite glad I was here,” said Sir Edwin.
“Gregson would have listened to reason eventually,” Crow said. I was glad he believed it; for myself I had doubts.
“Well,” said Sir Edwin, who might also have had doubts, “in any event, we’d best get the Registry paperwork done before this excellent lunch prompts me to forget it.” He gave me a wry look. “I’d only have to come back.”
The paperwork was prying and ill-natured, but the only difficulty came when it demanded the name of a “responsible person” who would vouch for my good behavior.
“I have no family,” I said. “Or, none who would agree to such a thing.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Doyle,” said Crow. “I’m standing right here.”
“And who better than an angel,” said Sir Edwin, “to stand surety for a hell-hound’s behavior.”
“I think you’ve got that backward,” Crow muttered.
“Is this a decision I make?” I said cautiously.
“It isn’t valid without your signature,” said Sir Edwin at the same time Crow said, “If you don’t want it…”
“Are you sure you want it? It does rather tie us together, and we’ve only been rooming together for four months.”
“Which is three months and two weeks longer than any other human being has ever put up with me,” said Crow. “I’m quite sure.”
“All right,” I said. “But I want to read over everything before I sign it.”
“Sound practice,” Sir Edwin said, and produced a sheaf of paper from his briefcase.
While I read, Sir Edwin gossiped with Crow about the Ripper case and the odd mash of politics and reasoning ability that put both Tories and Whigs on each side of the fence about whether or not the alleged Jack the Ripper was the real thing. He also brought the welcome news that the person both sides wanted to get rid of was Sir Charles Warren, so that he was being blamed for an incident at which he had not been present. (And about which he could have done nothing, even if he had been.) Lestrade and Abberline were both free of the hook. “Inspector Abberline is already the Man Who Caught Jack the Ripper, which will do wonders for his career.”
“But it was Doyle,” Crow said indignantly. “The rest of us were just following as best we could.”
“Let Abberline have the credit,” I said. “Here. Hand me a pen, Crow, so that I can sign this.”
I signed, Crow signed, Sir Edwin bowed to us both and tucked the document away. “Well,” I said when our visitor was gone, “I guess you’re stuck with me.”
“I think you’ve got that backward, too,” Crow said, and smiled like sunrise after the nightmare-dark.
Acknowledgments
Firstly, my most profound thanks to my editor and everyone at Tor Books. You people are amazing.
Secondly, thanks to my readers, Elizabeth Bear, Allen Monette, C. L. Polk, and Fran Wilde, for much-needed help and reassurance.
Thirdly, I must acknowledge my great debt to W. S. Baring-Gould’s The Annotated Sherlock Holmes, which has shaped my reading of Conan Doyle for almost forty years. Maddening though it sometimes is, it is an invaluable resource and truly a labor of love.
Fourthly, books about Jack the Ripper that have shaped my understanding of the crimes and their context: Neil R. A. Bell, Capturing Jack the Ripper: In the Boots of a Bobby in Victorian London; Alexander Chisholm, Christopher-Michael DiGrazia, and Dave Yost, The News from Whitechapel: Jack the Ripper in The Daily Telegraph; L. Perry Curtis, Jr., Jack the Ripper and the London Press; Maxim Jakubowski and Nathan Braund, eds. The Mammoth Book of Jack the Ripper; Robin Odell, Ripperology: A Study of the World’s First Serial Killer and a Literary Phenomenon; Donald Rumbelow, Jack the Ripper: The Complete Casebook; Philip Sugden, The Complete History of Jack the Ripper.
Fifthly, for more on the Ratcliffe Highway murders, I point you to P. D. James and T. A. Critchley, The Maul and the Pear Tree.
Sixthly, there are two books about the Thames Torso murders: R. Michael Gordon, The Thames Torso Murders of Victorian London, and M. J. Trow, The Thames Torso Murders.
Seventhly, Crow’s theory about the Bravo mu
rder comes from James Ruddick’s excellent Death at the Priory.
Eighthly and lastly (but so very not leastly), my thanks go to my Patreon patrons, who make more possible than they can ever imagine: Sarah Wishnevsky-Lynch, Hilary Kraus, Jennifer G. Tifft, Meredith Katz, Kate Diamond, Linda Cox, Liz Novaski, Seth Carlson, Gail Morse, Sylvia Sotomayor, Christina Fayz, Meredith B., Jennifer Parrack, Elizabeth Monette, E.S.H., Anna Hedlund, K. Monahan, Marissa Lingen, Lindsay Kleinman, Gordon Tisher, ScottKF, Liza Furr, Lesley Hall, S. L. Ingram, Kris Ashley, Sasha Lydon, Caryn Cameron, Margaret Johnston, Lorna Toolis, Yvonne Lam, Rhiannon B-G, Gretchen Schultz, Bill Ruppert, Laura E. Price, Mary Kay Kare, Anna Davidson, Jennifer Lundy, Laura Bailey, Elizabeth Woodley, Celia Yost, Ruthanna Emrys, Danielle Beliveau, Eleanor Skinner, Mariam Kvitsiani, D. Franklin, Edmund Schweppe, Arkady Martine, Sylvia Hobart, Sarah Ervine, Danielle Beauchesne, Maddie Beauchesne, Lidija Feldman, Kitty, Katy Kingston, Norman Ramsey, Meghan Parker, pCiaran, Emily Richards, Nathaniel Eneas, Irene Headley, Megan Prime, Jack K., Asia Wolf, Amy Miller, Simone Brick, and Jen Moore.
Author’s Note
For those of you who do not know, there is a thing called fanfiction, wherein fans of a particular book or TV show or movie write stories about the characters. Fanfiction, as an umbrella term, covers a vast variety of genres and subgenres. One of those subgenres is something called wingfic, wherein a character or characters have wings. The Angel of the Crows began as a Sherlock wingfic.
BY KATHERINE ADDISON
The Goblin Emperor
The Angel of the Crows
About the Author
KATHERINE ADDISON is the author of the Locus Award–winning novel The Goblin Emperor, and her short fiction has been selected by The Year’s Best Fantasy and Horror and The Year’s Best Science Fiction. As Sarah Monette, she is the author of the Doctrine of Labyrinths series and coauthor, with Elizabeth Bear, of the Iskryne series. She lives near Madison, Wisconsin. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Epigraphs
Part One: The Angel of London
Chapter 1. The Exile’s Reluctant Return
Chapter 2. A Meeting in St. Bartholomew’s Hospital
Chapter 3. The Flat in Baker Street
Chapter 4. The Skull of John Williams
Part Two: The Dissolution Feather
Chapter 5. An Appeal for Help
Chapter 6. No. 3, Lauriston Gardens
Chapter 7. The Constable’s Story
Chapter 8. The Mousetrap
Part Three: An Unexpected Treasure Hunt
Chapter 9. A Visit to New Scotland Yard
Chapter 10. Secrets Shared
Part Four: The Mystery of Captain Morstan
Chapter 11. A Second Appeal for Help
Chapter 12. The Unknown Friend
Chapter 13. The Truth About Captain Morstan
Chapter 14. Tracking by Cerberus
Chapter 15. The Murderer’s Story
Chapter 16. The Social Club of the Hemophages
Chapter 17. The Vampire
Chapter 18. The Master of the Hunt
Chapter 19. The Christian Names of Dr. Doyle
Part Five: The Disappearance of Euphemia Rucastle Hebron
Chapter 20. A Most Unusual Case
Part Six: London’s Night Face
Chapter 21. Dear Boss
Chapter 22. Errands
Part Seven: The Secret of The Mire
Chapter 23. A Third Appeal for Help
Chapter 24. Sir Henry Baskerville
Chapter 25. An Aetheric Interlude
Chapter 26. Baskerville Hall
Chapter 27. Letters
Chapter 28. The Hound of the Baskervilles
Part Eight: The Surrey Vampire
Chapter 29. A New Errand
Chapter 30. Into the Countryside
Chapter 31. A Man with a Mongoose
Part Nine: The Lord Mayor’s Day
Chapter 32. No. 13, Miller’s Court
Epilogue: The Rest of the Story
Chapter 33. The Angel and the Solicitor
Acknowledgments
Author’s Note
By Katherine Addison
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THE ANGEL OF THE CROWS
Copyright © 2020 by Sarah Monette
All rights reserved.
Cover illustrations by Shutterstock.com
A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates
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New York, NY 10271
www.tor-forge.com
Tor® is a registered trademark of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC.
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-0-7653-8739-4 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-0-7653-8741-7 (ebook)
eISBN 9780765387417
Our ebooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by email at [email protected].
First Edition: 2020
The Angel of the Crows Page 42