Mad Bride of the Ripper

by Lucas Thorn

  Mouth open just enough for William to see the terrible fangs.

  He took a step toward the frightened boy.

  And then the door smashed open and a man came flying inside. Crashed into the vampire with a spit and curse. The two tumbled into the table, splintering it beneath their combined weight.

  Rolled across the ground. The vampire snapping with fang and raking claw.

  The man took no notice. Wore a leather collar around his throat.

  An iron mesh coat.

  He beat at the vampire’s head with a large wooden mallet. Cracking open skull.

  William sucked a breath as he caught the vampire hunter’s expression.

  Cold.

  Brittle.

  Utterly emotionless.

  The vampire squealed as the man slammed a wooden stake up hard into his chest.

  “No! Mercy!”

  “Mercy?” The man brought the mallet down. Blood erupted, spraying the man’s face. “There will be no mercy for your kind, Hellspawn!”

  The vampire shrieked. A sound which made the boy cover his ears and weep.

  But it was over fast.

  So fast.

  The vampire’s body convulsed and then pinpoints of bright green light speared from holes in his flesh.

  The man looked to the boy. “Close your eyes,” he snapped.

  The boy did.

  The flash of light was bright even through his lids were squeezed shut.

  And when he opened them again, the man was on his feet. A small bag in his hand, into which he tucked the stake and mallet. Surveyed the room with a glance. Saw the body of William’s mother.

  Sighed.

  “I’m sorry, boy. I’ve been following him for three days now. I was too late to save your parents.”

  William shook his head. “I don’t understand. What was it?”

  “It was a thing which should not exist. By nature’s laws, it should not be. But Hell has its own rules, and Satan works to pervert Order with Chaos.” He nudged the pile of ash with his boot. “It was a vampire, if you want its name by lore. A bloodsucker.”

  “But they’re just stories!”

  The man smiled. No warmth in it at all. “Then your family was murdered by a story. That in itself might be a tale to tell.” He hefted the bag. Looked to the door. “Now, then. You shouldn’t stay here alone. Do you have anyone you can stay with?”

  “No.” The boy’s mind shivered. “There’s no one. It were just us.”

  “Well, then. Do you want to stay here?”

  “What else can I do?”

  “You could join me. There are more creatures like this, boy.”

  “More? How many?”

  “Enough.” He frowned. “I could show you how to kill them. Otherwise, you can forget what you saw. Live your life free of the darkness which infects all those who search for it.”

  “They killed my ma. And pa.”

  “Yes.”

  “I want to kill them.”

  The man nodded. Without emotion; “Then pack what you need. And hurry. We don’t have time.”

  “But I don’t know your name.”

  “Van Helsing,” the man said. “But you can call me Abraham if you like.”

  That was almost twenty years ago and William Sloper never lost the taste for revenge. It still burned inside like a fire. Consuming every other emotion.

  He’d tried to be normal for a time. Tried to settle down.

  Met a girl.

  Thought he could put it all behind him.

  But couldn’t shake the nightmares. Domestic work just never sat right with him. He couldn’t think without the feeling of a hive of bees sitting inside his skull. The idea that vampires still lurked in the shadows was too much for him to ignore. He’d begun to see them in every shadow.

  He stuck it out for almost a year. Then packed his bag one night as his wife slept. Left his ring on the table and left her alone with their child and a small pouch of coin.

  Returned to Van Helsing and his crusade. Which is what it was.

  A holy crusade.

  The world didn’t know what horror haunted the night. But William did. And he was going to do something about it.

  It was, he realised, the only reason he had for living.

  Which is why he was kneeling in a laneway opposite a townhouse, watching a big man lean against the door. A toothpick between his teeth.

  “Move on,” William sighed. He’d been squatting against a wall for an hour and his ankles hurt.

  But the man made no show of wanting to move.

  A cab went past, horses snorting but otherwise disinterested. The cab driver hunched like an ornament.

  The man watched the cab go past. Craned his neck until it was out of view.

  “Shit,” William growled.

  He didn’t have all day. There could only be a few hours until nightfall.

  Frustration dug at his shoulders, so he slid from the lane and went down the street. Counting off the townhouses one by one. Then crossed up and came back across the street behind.

  Stood in front of a quiet lodging. A sign on the front advised a room was vacant.

  Luck, he thought.

  He’d always been lucky.

  Straight up to the door and rapped smartly on the wood.

  Waited.

  A woman in her early fifties cracked it open and offered a smile. “Can I help you?”

  “Yes, I came about the room. Is it still available?”

  “Oh yes!” She hauled the door open to let him inside. “Would you like to see it?”

  “If that’s not too much trouble.”

  “Of course not. You know, I’ve only had the sign out since this morning. I didn’t expect anyone to come knocking so soon.”

  “Well, I was in the area as it happened. I’ve just started a new job.”

  “You’re new to London then, Mister…?”

  “Sloper, Ma’am. William. Yes, I come from Whitby. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of it, but it’s a nice place.”

  “Whitby? A fine place. My old husband, may God rest his soul, took me there on holiday for our fifth. A lovely old place, I thought it. I have very dear memories of the seaside.”

  “I’m sorry, Ma’am.” Hesitated. “About your husband, I mean.”

  “He’s long gone, Mister Sloper. And call me Anne. If you want to be formal, you can call me Mrs Murphy. But Anne really is fine with me. I’m not a formal sort of person. Here, the room is upstairs. Would you like a cup of tea at all?”

  “I’d be delighted,” he said. “There’s just the one room?”

  “Yes. Did you need another? I’m afraid I only have one. The house isn’t as big as it looks. I have a little kitchen downstairs, of course. I wanted to rent out the room because it’s a bit lonely here sometimes. Doesn’t seem much point just cooking for myself. Having some company might help keep me from just doing nothing. Can’t abide doing nothing.”

  “One room is fine,” he said. Let himself be led to the sitting room. A small fire was lit and the little chairs looked comfortable. Everything spotless and clean. “Well, I must say. This is a fine place.”

  “My husband’s choice. He always thought he was a bit of a Lord.” She said it with some affection as she went to a small cabinet. “You see the painting? That’s him. Saved himself all his earnings for two years to have that painted. Liked to think it’d mean something to future generations. Will most likely find itself on a heap for scrap, I shouldn’t think.”

  “It looks nicely done,” he said.

  She took two small cups from the cabinet and shrugged. “It looks ghastly. Makes him look like a cold-hearted monster and he was nothing of the sort. Should have had him smile or something. I told him. I said, Gerald. It doesn’t look like you at all. But he thought it made him look like a Duke. Duke of Stone Mountain, I said.”

  William smiled lightly. Looked down at one of the cushioned chairs. “Do you mind? It’s been a long day.”

  �
��Of course, lad. Take a seat! Here, I’ve got the teapot ready already. I was making one for myself, so you got here just in time.” She sat opposite him and pushed the delicate little pot across the table. Slid one of the small china cups toward him. “I don’t have any sugar, I’m sorry. If you want some, I can make sure to pick some up.”

  “That’s alright,” he said. “I won’t need it.”

  “Oh?”

  His hand slid into the bag. The other grabbed one of the cushions next to his hip.

  “I’m frightfully sorry, Anne, but the future of the world is at stake and I know you wouldn’t understand. I wish I had time to explain, but I don’t.”

  Her wrinkled forehead creased even deeper as she frowned. “Sorry?”

  In one smooth movement, he lifted the cushion in front of her face and shoved the pistol muzzle deep into the feathered bag before squeezing the trigger and sending her brains blasting out across the carpet.

  Her body collapsed like a sack of wet potatoes and William eased air from his lungs in a regretful sigh.

  The noise had been loud, but the cushion had muffled it well enough. A few bloody feathers wafted to the ground.

  He watched them fall.

  Waiting.

  Listening.

  Until sure no one had guessed the origin of the shot. Then he stood, trying not to look at the bloody pulp of the old lady’s head. Moved to the back of the house and let himself out into the small narrow courtyard.

  Crept to the back fence.

  Carefully looked over and could see no one out back.

  No one at the windows.

  He threw his bag over first, then scaled the fence and dropped down into the yard. A little garden with a small outdoor seating arrangement in the centre. Willow tree between him and the back door.

  Licked his lips and darted quickly, keeping his footsteps as light as he could.

  Knew Mister Westenra was out.

  Leaving the vampire upstairs.

  Alone.

  Still, he kept the pistol in his hand as he pressed against the door. Tested the handle and found it unlocked. Eased it open and peered down the hallway.

  Empty.

  He slid inside, pressing his back to the wall. There were two doors down the right side and the staircase was on his left. He crept down the hall, slowly. Pistol held out in front in case the big man decided to come back inside.

  His heartbeat was drumming hard in his ears. They were hot. The hand holding the pistol trembled slightly. It was a huge risk, and he knew it. Death could come for him at any second.

  But still he kept advancing.

  She had to die.

  He passed the first door and looked up. Could hear a clock from somewhere ahead. In the next room on the right. Closed door, but the tick of its mechanism was loud enough in the humid silence.

  Tick.

  Tock.

  He passed the door. Looked up the stairs again.

  Adrenaline washing his veins clean. Pulse running rampant.

  Got one step on the stair when the dining room door was whipped open and someone shot out of the dark. Someone big. A fist slammed into his guts and his finger began to squeeze on the trigger of the gun. But another hand chopped across his wrist and he dropped it.

  A monstrous man almost as big as the one standing out front.

  Panic seized him by the scruff of his neck and he threw himself back. There was nowhere to go. Another fist came out of nowhere, dazzling his brain with a series of knocks about his jaw and cheek.

  He slid down the wall, lifting an arm. Meagre protection. He’d been taken by surprise. Too quick. Too fast. Too hard. “Wait!”

  But another blow thundered into his mouth. Ripped open his upper lip and took a tooth.

  He tasted the crunch of it as it spun inside his mouth. His tongue working to push it over his tongue so he could spit it out on a slug of saliva.

  “Well, mate,” the man said. Almost cheerfully. “Ain’t you broke into the wrong house?”

  “You don’t understand,” he croaked. Managed to spit the tooth out. “You don’t know what she is.”

  “You’re wrong about that,” Kipper said. And William’s blood turned to ice. “I know exactly what she is, mate. And it don’t bother me at all. Not even a little.”

  Then the fist ploughed into his face one more time and William’s world faded to black on a tide of drowning stars.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “William?”

  The voice was chocolate. It was cherries. Sugar and spice. Warm cream. Honey drooling from a spoon. It uncoiled within his ears and licked his soul with warmth and the sickness of plague.

  “Wake up, William.”

  He was floating.

  Breathless.

  Darkness prowled the edge of everything. Murky and fluid as though he was floating in a lake of sludge. He wasn’t cold. Wasn’t wet.

  He was hot. Stifled by lack of air.

  Static electricity crackled inside his skull. Loose sparks popped in front of his vision and he looked up. A sun, bright and warm, hovered above.

  Swinging gently left and right. A twinkling hum. Hypnotic.

  He reached for it.

  Kicked upward through the dark.

  “That’s it, William. Come on. Swim for the light. You can do it. The light will save you. Darkness only leads to damnation.”

  Thoughts charged through his brain; Am I dead? Lord, is that you?

  Feminine giggles answered his inner cry.

  “Oh, William. Do I sound like your God?” A hand emerged from the dark. The alabaster fingers wrapping around his wrist. Tugging. He let himself be pulled upward. Felt his feet drag behind him. “Come on. Try. Kick your feet at least.”

  Wanting to ask so many questions, he opened his mouth.

  Dark fluid flooded across his teeth. Washed his tongue and force a gag as he spat it out.

  Only then did the fear of drowning grip his heart. He kicked and kicked. Sending himself speeding up to toward the light.

  To the surface and its promise of clean air.

  He looked back once. Saw dark shadows shifting underneath. Tentacles writhing like a feast of worms. Some started to unwind from the depths. Reaching. Bladed teeth and saw-toothed suckers twitching as they tasted his passage and sought to sate an endless and ancient hunger with the bounty of his flesh.

  He sputtered, sending bubbles dancing from his mouth. Spun back to the light and clung tighter to the cold hand. Willing himself to go faster.

  Responding, it felt like he was jetting upward.

  The ball of light expanded as though gorging on his fear. With every stammering heartbeat, it grew larger. Brighter. Knifing the dark with glittering shards.

  Something about it repulsed him, but he knew instinctively that light was something he should yearn for.

  Swim, he told himself. Swim to the light

  “Hurry, William,” she purred inside his head. “You’ll run out of air soon.”

  He chased the bubbles which squeezed loose from the corner of his mouth. His lungs burning as they demanded oxygen.

  He stretched harder. Kicked harder. Desperation blurring his vision, but no matter how hazy everything became, he could see the pale arm holding his own with utter clarity.

  More pale than bleached bone.

  Then the gloom melted away and a face rippled out of the dark beyond the shoulder.

  Smiling at him. The smile of a fox. Cunning and hungry.

  He should know her. He knew he should. Who was she? Her name trembled within his memory.

  The light behind her flared. Dazzling and magnetic. Formed a wide halo around her hair. Stunning him with angelic beauty whose majesty weakened his legs and he was unable to kick anymore.

  Yet, instead of luring him, it repulsed him. His stomach roiled at sight of her, but he had to reach the surface. Had to.

  His fingers split the surface first and he erupted with a wet huff of air and explosive splash of dark water.


  Sucking at the crisp atmosphere, he found himself standing in knee-deep water. Wet to his hip.

  Naked.

  Cold. Shivering and teeth chattering. Heaving breath after breath into his punished lungs.

  He spun, saw her standing just as naked. On an island. All he had to do was take a few steps and he’d be on the smooth clean sand with her. He took the first step.

  Then her name hit him with the power of a lightning bolt.

  “Lucy!”

  “Yes, William.” She held her arms out to him. “What are you waiting for? Aren’t you cold?”

  “No!” He wrenched himself away. Tried to run backwards, but no matter how many steps he took, he didn’t seem to be getting any distance between them. Like she was holding him in place, or the island was chasing him. He slapped at the water in frustration. “Let me go, you demon!”

  “You watched her die, didn’t you? Your mother? You saw her torn apart.”

  “By a vampire,” he hissed. “By one of you!”

  “He wasn’t like me really, was he? He was just an animal. I’m not an animal, am I? Look at me. Do I look anything at all like the monster who killed your mother? Why, I’d bet his skin wasn’t nearly as smooth.”

  “I know what you’re trying to do. You’re inside my head, you are. Trying to violate me. He told me some of you could do that. That you could control us. Make us see things which aren’t there. Turn us against each other. But only if we’re weak. And I’m not weak. Don’t you mistake me for a weak man, you monster. I’ll fight you forever! Hear me? Forever!”

  “Control you?” She laughed. A sound like a cacophony of bells. “I don’t want to control you, William! Why would I want that?”

  “You want me to do what you say. You want me to be your slave.”

  “Slave?” Her body swayed gently as she put a foot into the water. “Where did you get that silly idea? From Doctor Seward? Or was it Van Helsing? Tell me what I would do with a slave. What possible use would you be?”

  “Stay back. Keep away from me.”

  “Do you know what they did to me, William? In Whitby? Were you there?”

  “I didn’t care what they did. They should have destroyed you. I told them to!”

  “Van Helsing cut me open. Right here. From my belly to my neck. Look at me, William. This is where he cut me open. He had to break open all of my ribs to get inside my chest, which he peeled open as if I was a piece of fruit. I kept healing, so he had to keep cutting me open. Again and again. He put clamps to keep my chest from closing, but it didn’t work for long. So he chained the wounds open. Do you know how he held them in place? With hooks. The kind you use to hang pigs from a ceiling in an abattoir. Even when I thought I had no more blood to bleed, I kept bleeding. The floor was thick with my blood. So deep that when he moved, I heard my blood splash around his boots. And the pain! The pain was endless. It was agony not felt by any outside of Hell. Then he put his hands inside me, William. He touched me where no man could touch a living woman.” There was a cold hard edge to her voice, and he stared helplessly at her smooth skin where her fingers traced a line up her torso. “You talk of violation, William. But you have no idea what that word even means. You don’t really know what it’s like to have someone inside you so completely. While you scream and scream and scream. And they mock you for it. Laugh at you. Spit in your face and just keep cutting!”